Crazy Mike's Wacky Book Giveaway Extravaganza!!!
This is the first in a no doubt ongoing series of posts. As I've mentioned before, I buy books. I buy books the way other people buy paper towels or napkins. I'll buy the same book six or even seven times. What this ends up meaning is that I have many copies of things I didn't even really like the first time. Like Absalom, Absalom!.
When asked to explain myself, I can only smile sheepishly and mumble something about covers. And yeah, you can't judge a book by it's cover, but a cover can make all the difference in how much time I want to spend with a book. So if I see a cover I like better than the cover I'm currently reading, I'll buy the same book again just to make sure I've got something prettier.
For example, this? Or this? It's clearly the second one, right?
I kind of love the new Penguin Classics editions, with the sexy black covers. They don't hold up so well to reading, though; the covers get scratched easily and they crease with a quick glance. The Penguin Classics right before these new guys (here's an example) are my preferred covers for reading. They've got an all-purpose prettiness; not too flashy, but easy on the eyes. Sort of like Sandy Bullock.
Oxford World Classics, though? I mean, Jesus. It's like they're not even trying. Not only do they have easily creasable covers, they're not very supple books at all. It's the reading equivalent of wearing burlap. Naked. After a bad sunburn. Two sizes too small.
What follows is an initial list of books that I currently am trying to part with. Here's the drill: you want it, just ask. If you're the first, it's yours. Try not to be a greedy gus about it; don't write to me all Veruca Salt-y with the "Now!" and the "All!" and the "More!" And keep checking back. As I unpack more books, there are bound to be more. I'll try to link to an image of the book that I have, so you know what you're getting into. Also: some of the books have my scribbles in the margins. I don't promise that said scribbles are at all illuminating; in fact, I'm pretty sure a lot of them might be embarrassing.
Mansfield Park (this one's calling Stuckinnv daddy)
I forgot to mention above the Luntzes of the book cover world: the new Modern Library covers. The art tends to be pretty nice. They hold up well to repeated readings. And the Modern Library Anna Karenina (more on that one below) has one of the best essays on the novel I've ever read by Mona Simpson. Why aren't they my favorites? I don't particularly like the color. That goldeny brown? Not so much. Anyway, this is a Modern Library Mansfield Park. As far as I'm concerned, and as I've written before (and will no doubt write again), this is Austen at her best. It's a dense novel with a troubling heroine, and has a lot to say about damage and loneliness, moral rectitude and the fluidity of ethics. Plus, it has Mary Crawford -- and Mary Crawford kicks about 17 different kinds of ass.
Jane Eyre
Another Modern Library edition, the cover image is nicely creepy if a little acontextual ("How do you spell acontextual?" "Uh, a-c-o-n-t-e-x-t-u-a-l." "Yeah, I know that George Thampy." "Was he that annoying Indian kid with the lispy speech impediment?" "Who loved Christ?" "Yeah." "Yeah." "I hated that kid." "So anyway, is acontextual hyphenated?" "No." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." "Because Word doesn't recognize it the way you're spelling it." "Who you gonna believe, Word or George Thampy?" "'Study hawd. Obey your pawwents. And love Jeethuth.'"): I don't think the girl on the cover is what Jane is supposed to look like. Jane Eyre is good; it's not, though, better than Villette in my opinion. And personally, I like the young, lively, locked-in-the-red-room Jane more than I like the "Reader, I married him" Jane. And there's a character named St. John, only it's pronounced "Sin-jin." In case you didn't know that before. I don't want you to be embarrassed that way I was embarrassed.
Wuthering Heights
This is a very weird book. And it's really misunderstood. Lots of girls who wear too much eyeliner and tattered fishnets while listening to gothy music think of this as some kind of timelessly romantic love story.
It isn't.
Wuthering Heights is scary and claustrophobic and not supposed to be romantic at all. Heathcliff? Not a good man. Cathy? Not a good woman. These are bad people, and they're not supposed to be seen as good. Why it gets taught that way again and again is beyond me. They're awful, frustrating, narcissistic and deeply damaged people. I think that's what Emily's trying to get across here.
In Cold Blood (Shula is always busy, yet always has time to take a little Capote off my hands)
I can't read this novel again. It's good; it's better, even, then it has any right to be. But it's harrowing and awful and I can't go through reading it one more time. I have two copies of this -- and I may end up giving away both. One of my favorite things about this book is Mom "Mrs." Clutter (who isn't around for very long, but totally steals every scene she's in). At one point, a young girl is trapped with her in the livng room while Mom Clutter goes on about how she loves tiny things. Another line I'm fond of is the way one of Nancy Clutter's teachers described her: "Nancy Clutter is always busy, yet always has time. And that's the sign of a true lady."
Don Quixote (this one goes out to Tadiera)
It's long. I mean, it's reeeeeal fucking long. And it's frustratingly episodic, rather than a smoothly flowing narrative. However, there are many scenes that made me laugh out loud, and the ending broke my heart for about a week. It's worth reading; it just may not be worth reading all in one sitting.
The Woman in White (Springbarb will help Marian foil Fosco)
This is one of the best books you will ever read. And it is definitely one of my Top 5 Books of All Time. It has everything: murder, madness, poison, a fat man named Fosco and a midget named Pesca. The love story isn't very interesting, nor are the lovers. But Marian Halcombe is the friggin bomb, man, and Count Fosco is one sexy fat mutherfuckin' foul guy. The only drawback is that this is one of those Oxford World Classic editions. Sorry.
Heart of Darkness
This isn't the exact edition you'll get; I couldn't find that, thanks Amazon. Stupid search engine. Anyway: yeah. I don't get the hype around this book. My favorite Conrad is The Secret Agent (which you should totally read). But it's famous, and there's the Apocalypse Now connection which is a good time for a lot of people. If you take it and read it, write me and tell me what you thought. Especially if you liked it.
The Brothers Karamazov (Jules won't have to endure any awkward silences when she runs into Laura Bush!)
There's a married couple, Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, who have been translating a lot of the classic Russian writers of the 19th and early 20th centuries. They're really good when they translate Dostoevsky; they're the only way I can read him. However, they're not so good for Tolstoy (and more on that when we get to Anna Karenina). This is a Volokhonsky/Pevear translation. Also? It's one of Laura Bush's favorite books. My friend Steve and I think that Dostoevsky, who was a Christian, is writing against himself in the "Grand Inquisitor" chapter. Dostoevsky wants us to reach the end of that and say, "Well clearly: God." Instead, you reach the end and think, "No."
The Vicomte de Bragelonne (Shula will nurse this novel's many swordfighting wounds)
This isn't exactly what your copy will look like; it is, though, still an Oxford World Classic. The Vicomte de Bragelonne is part of the Three Musketeers series. They're silly and fun with the sword fighting and the "one for all and all for one!"-ing, and it's interesting to spend that much time with these guys. It's not my favorite Dumas. For that, you'll need to read The Count of Monte Cristo or La Reine Margot.
Absalom, Absalom!
I really don't think much of Faulkner. The Sound and the Fury is pretty exceptional; however, even a broken clock is right twice a day. I haven't been able to finish Absalom, Absalom! (which I used to confuse with O Calcutta!), so I'm only getting rid of one of my copies. If, when I get to it in my reading pile, it turns out that I still can't make it through, then you'll be seeing it on a list like this again.
The Mayor of Casterbridge (since it's going to live with Stuckinnv, this one won't be left on a country road)
I love Thomas Hardy. I would never want to be a character in a Thomas Hardy novel; you're bound for madness, some sort of awful sexual encounter, and death; but still, I do enjoy sitting down with The Mayor of Casterbridge or The Return of the Native, or Tess of the Durbervilles (and no: she isn't raped; and yes: I'll give you a smackdown if you think you can argue otherwise). My favorite Hardy of all time, though, is Jude the Obscure. The Mayor of Casterbridge was my first introduction to Thomas "Hap" Hardy through my high school English teacher (and secret crush) Mr. Bruce Kielsmeier. I hated the book then, much like I hated all assigned books then. Bruce, if you ever read this, I've mended my ways about both Hardy and Austen. Also: call me.
The House of Mirth (this one's gonna make hats for Desideratum)
Edith Wharton is an amazing writer. I don't know if there is anyone writing today who can match her. Lily Bart will captivate you, frustrate you, and ultimately break your heart. The movie version, with Gillian Anderson, isn't bad either.
Anna Karenina (Anna's got a new lover in Stuckinnv)
This is an almost perfect book. (The ending? Wellll...) (And not that train ending, that's not what I'm talking about). However, I'm not a fan of this translation. It's one by that husband and wife team I mentioned above; however, I don't think it does a better job than the Constance Garnett translation and in some places, I think it's actually inferior to the Garnett. It's not as bad as the Garnett/Maude rumble in the Bronx I wrote about earlier; it's just, I don't see the need to have this edition when I like the Garnett translation more.
If you get a chance, though, and you've already read Anna Karenina, do yourself a favor and read the Mona Simpson essay in this edition. I don't think much of Mona Simpson as a fiction writer, but she really gets this novel, and her love of it is palpable in this essay.
When asked to explain myself, I can only smile sheepishly and mumble something about covers. And yeah, you can't judge a book by it's cover, but a cover can make all the difference in how much time I want to spend with a book. So if I see a cover I like better than the cover I'm currently reading, I'll buy the same book again just to make sure I've got something prettier.
For example, this? Or this? It's clearly the second one, right?
I kind of love the new Penguin Classics editions, with the sexy black covers. They don't hold up so well to reading, though; the covers get scratched easily and they crease with a quick glance. The Penguin Classics right before these new guys (here's an example) are my preferred covers for reading. They've got an all-purpose prettiness; not too flashy, but easy on the eyes. Sort of like Sandy Bullock.
Oxford World Classics, though? I mean, Jesus. It's like they're not even trying. Not only do they have easily creasable covers, they're not very supple books at all. It's the reading equivalent of wearing burlap. Naked. After a bad sunburn. Two sizes too small.
What follows is an initial list of books that I currently am trying to part with. Here's the drill: you want it, just ask. If you're the first, it's yours. Try not to be a greedy gus about it; don't write to me all Veruca Salt-y with the "Now!" and the "All!" and the "More!" And keep checking back. As I unpack more books, there are bound to be more. I'll try to link to an image of the book that I have, so you know what you're getting into. Also: some of the books have my scribbles in the margins. I don't promise that said scribbles are at all illuminating; in fact, I'm pretty sure a lot of them might be embarrassing.
I forgot to mention above the Luntzes of the book cover world: the new Modern Library covers. The art tends to be pretty nice. They hold up well to repeated readings. And the Modern Library Anna Karenina (more on that one below) has one of the best essays on the novel I've ever read by Mona Simpson. Why aren't they my favorites? I don't particularly like the color. That goldeny brown? Not so much. Anyway, this is a Modern Library Mansfield Park. As far as I'm concerned, and as I've written before (and will no doubt write again), this is Austen at her best. It's a dense novel with a troubling heroine, and has a lot to say about damage and loneliness, moral rectitude and the fluidity of ethics. Plus, it has Mary Crawford -- and Mary Crawford kicks about 17 different kinds of ass.
Jane Eyre
Another Modern Library edition, the cover image is nicely creepy if a little acontextual ("How do you spell acontextual?" "Uh, a-c-o-n-t-e-x-t-u-a-l." "Yeah, I know that George Thampy." "Was he that annoying Indian kid with the lispy speech impediment?" "Who loved Christ?" "Yeah." "Yeah." "I hated that kid." "So anyway, is acontextual hyphenated?" "No." "Are you sure?" "Yeah." "Because Word doesn't recognize it the way you're spelling it." "Who you gonna believe, Word or George Thampy?" "'Study hawd. Obey your pawwents. And love Jeethuth.'"): I don't think the girl on the cover is what Jane is supposed to look like. Jane Eyre is good; it's not, though, better than Villette in my opinion. And personally, I like the young, lively, locked-in-the-red-room Jane more than I like the "Reader, I married him" Jane. And there's a character named St. John, only it's pronounced "Sin-jin." In case you didn't know that before. I don't want you to be embarrassed that way I was embarrassed.
Wuthering Heights
This is a very weird book. And it's really misunderstood. Lots of girls who wear too much eyeliner and tattered fishnets while listening to gothy music think of this as some kind of timelessly romantic love story.
It isn't.
Wuthering Heights is scary and claustrophobic and not supposed to be romantic at all. Heathcliff? Not a good man. Cathy? Not a good woman. These are bad people, and they're not supposed to be seen as good. Why it gets taught that way again and again is beyond me. They're awful, frustrating, narcissistic and deeply damaged people. I think that's what Emily's trying to get across here.
I can't read this novel again. It's good; it's better, even, then it has any right to be. But it's harrowing and awful and I can't go through reading it one more time. I have two copies of this -- and I may end up giving away both. One of my favorite things about this book is Mom "Mrs." Clutter (who isn't around for very long, but totally steals every scene she's in). At one point, a young girl is trapped with her in the livng room while Mom Clutter goes on about how she loves tiny things. Another line I'm fond of is the way one of Nancy Clutter's teachers described her: "Nancy Clutter is always busy, yet always has time. And that's the sign of a true lady."
It's long. I mean, it's reeeeeal fucking long. And it's frustratingly episodic, rather than a smoothly flowing narrative. However, there are many scenes that made me laugh out loud, and the ending broke my heart for about a week. It's worth reading; it just may not be worth reading all in one sitting.
This is one of the best books you will ever read. And it is definitely one of my Top 5 Books of All Time. It has everything: murder, madness, poison, a fat man named Fosco and a midget named Pesca. The love story isn't very interesting, nor are the lovers. But Marian Halcombe is the friggin bomb, man, and Count Fosco is one sexy fat mutherfuckin' foul guy. The only drawback is that this is one of those Oxford World Classic editions. Sorry.
Heart of Darkness
This isn't the exact edition you'll get; I couldn't find that, thanks Amazon. Stupid search engine. Anyway: yeah. I don't get the hype around this book. My favorite Conrad is The Secret Agent (which you should totally read). But it's famous, and there's the Apocalypse Now connection which is a good time for a lot of people. If you take it and read it, write me and tell me what you thought. Especially if you liked it.
There's a married couple, Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky, who have been translating a lot of the classic Russian writers of the 19th and early 20th centuries. They're really good when they translate Dostoevsky; they're the only way I can read him. However, they're not so good for Tolstoy (and more on that when we get to Anna Karenina). This is a Volokhonsky/Pevear translation. Also? It's one of Laura Bush's favorite books. My friend Steve and I think that Dostoevsky, who was a Christian, is writing against himself in the "Grand Inquisitor" chapter. Dostoevsky wants us to reach the end of that and say, "Well clearly: God." Instead, you reach the end and think, "No."
This isn't exactly what your copy will look like; it is, though, still an Oxford World Classic. The Vicomte de Bragelonne is part of the Three Musketeers series. They're silly and fun with the sword fighting and the "one for all and all for one!"-ing, and it's interesting to spend that much time with these guys. It's not my favorite Dumas. For that, you'll need to read The Count of Monte Cristo or La Reine Margot.
Absalom, Absalom!
I really don't think much of Faulkner. The Sound and the Fury is pretty exceptional; however, even a broken clock is right twice a day. I haven't been able to finish Absalom, Absalom! (which I used to confuse with O Calcutta!), so I'm only getting rid of one of my copies. If, when I get to it in my reading pile, it turns out that I still can't make it through, then you'll be seeing it on a list like this again.
I love Thomas Hardy. I would never want to be a character in a Thomas Hardy novel; you're bound for madness, some sort of awful sexual encounter, and death; but still, I do enjoy sitting down with The Mayor of Casterbridge or The Return of the Native, or Tess of the Durbervilles (and no: she isn't raped; and yes: I'll give you a smackdown if you think you can argue otherwise). My favorite Hardy of all time, though, is Jude the Obscure. The Mayor of Casterbridge was my first introduction to Thomas "Hap" Hardy through my high school English teacher (and secret crush) Mr. Bruce Kielsmeier. I hated the book then, much like I hated all assigned books then. Bruce, if you ever read this, I've mended my ways about both Hardy and Austen. Also: call me.
Edith Wharton is an amazing writer. I don't know if there is anyone writing today who can match her. Lily Bart will captivate you, frustrate you, and ultimately break your heart. The movie version, with Gillian Anderson, isn't bad either.
This is an almost perfect book. (The ending? Wellll...) (And not that train ending, that's not what I'm talking about). However, I'm not a fan of this translation. It's one by that husband and wife team I mentioned above; however, I don't think it does a better job than the Constance Garnett translation and in some places, I think it's actually inferior to the Garnett. It's not as bad as the Garnett/Maude rumble in the Bronx I wrote about earlier; it's just, I don't see the need to have this edition when I like the Garnett translation more.
If you get a chance, though, and you've already read Anna Karenina, do yourself a favor and read the Mona Simpson essay in this edition. I don't think much of Mona Simpson as a fiction writer, but she really gets this novel, and her love of it is palpable in this essay.
posted by Mike at 1:42 PM
3 Comments:
Damn. I recently bought the Maude translation of Anna Karenina. I should have consulted with you first. Duh.
Yeah. I feel a little responsible, too. Stay away from the Maude in pretty much every situation.
The Pevear/Volokhonsky duo are coming out with their own War & Peace. I'll need to see how they handle the Daniel Cooper scene before I commit. I'm pretty sure I'm going to stick with the Garnett.
But I'll totally keep a, uh, open mind about it.
I'd like to give Heart of Darkness a try...I missed most of the classics when we were supposed to read them and I feel the need to redeem myself.
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