First, I'd like to say that, no, I did not just finish the book at 2am. I finished the book at approximately 9pm (poolside, of course). I then passed out from a migraine - I believe from too much reading and too little water.
Well, I'm not going to tell you what happens. That would be kind of pointless for the people who would actually want to read it too, but I'm sticking to my earlier prediction when I say that it's a vast improvement over Giffin's second and third novels. The book was definitely a page-turner in its own right and I'm always surprised to go to imdb.com and see there have yet to be film adaptations of her books in the works. Maybe they're still in talks, who knows. Anyway, it was a good book and my only criticism is that it climaxed and resolved really quickly at the end - in the last 30 pages or so. It was like it kind of just ran out of gas. Nevertheless it was a pleasure to read, a vast improvement over her last, and a great way to kick off the ChickLit season.
N.B. I am now Emily Giffin's friend on the facebook. Does that make me crazy?
Monday, May 26, 2008
Sunday, May 25, 2008
180 pages down... 160 to go
So I've passed the halfway point in Love the One You're With, and I have to say that even though I know it's formulaic and that one of two things will happen at the end, the book is not bad. I'm intrigued and involved. It's 2:40PM in the afternoon and I keep saying, "One more chapter, then I'll take a shower," and I've been at it since 10am. I fell asleep reading it, I woke up reading it.
ChickLit is honestly refreshing sometimes. I would say that it's better than her second and third novels (Something Blue and Baby Proof), but so far doesn't top Something Borrowed, which was her debut that started me reading her stuff. So, in general, quite good, a fun read thus far and I do want to see how it is going to turn out. Who knows? Maybe she'll throw a curve ball in the plot at the end. A great improvement on her previous novel and, thus far, and a pleasant way to kick off my ChickLit Summer Reading Extravaganza.
ChickLit is honestly refreshing sometimes. I would say that it's better than her second and third novels (Something Blue and Baby Proof), but so far doesn't top Something Borrowed, which was her debut that started me reading her stuff. So, in general, quite good, a fun read thus far and I do want to see how it is going to turn out. Who knows? Maybe she'll throw a curve ball in the plot at the end. A great improvement on her previous novel and, thus far, and a pleasant way to kick off my ChickLit Summer Reading Extravaganza.
Saturday, May 24, 2008
blasphemy, I tell you. blasphemy...
So after a longish morning at the DMV (which resulted in no license at all... did you know you needed proof of your social security number?), I found myself at Barnes & Noble, hoping that the employees had changed up the tables in celebration of Memorial Day. I say this because 2 years ago, I spent the summer in New York writing for a travel guide (Let's Go: New York City 2007).
The job, while being an amazing opportunity to write, was pretty lonely at times. I logged anywhere from six to ten miles a day trekking around parts of Manhattan, the outer boroughs and taking day trips as far as Atlantic City. While a lot of my friends initially voiced their interest in joining me for a day on the job, they quickly realized that it wasn't just eating, drinking, and cavorting for pay. I'd hit 10 galleries in a day, 3 museums, 4 restaurants, make a pit stop back at my apartment for a few hours to rest up, then head back and hit up 7 bars in one night. The fatigue was ridiculous, and no one wanted to join in (not to mention the fact that people rarely agree to venture off the island of Manhattan).
So I quickly found myself flying solo all day everyday around the city. I spent a lot of time on the subway and sitting in restaurants being completely bored since I really could only take so many notes. I lived by Astor Place, down in the East Village where I was subletting an apartment from a friend. She had graduated from NYU that previous May and was traveling that summer, offering up her place (fully furnished) for a cool $975/month. (A note: I have yet to find a deal that good for a New York apartment ever again.) She left a box of books in the corner of her room(I assume, from school), and it was only a matter of days before I found myself digging through it.
One of the first books I read from that box has ended up as one of my favorites of all time: Fast Food Nation. I found it enthralling and I have since described it to my friends as the kind of book that I would want to write: compelling, fascinating, thoroughly researched. It really is an amazing read and makes you think more deeply about an institution in this country that is often taken at face value.
Anyway, Fast Food Nation ended all too quickly, so I continued looking through the pile. Most of the books were too dense for summertime, so I googled Barnes & Noble. Arriving there at 10pm one night, I encountered their "Summer Favorites" table, which was a cornucopia, if you will, of all kinds of books. Everything looked amazing to me, but, most of all, it was the fact that chicklit seemed to have been singled out of the rows of fiction and piled neatly, albeit separately, next to more respected literature. I had an amazing time digging through these piles, and since then, I've looked forward to those tables.
Today, I expected to see them. It's really difficult to find good chicklit on your own because there's so much crap chicklit out there. To be honest, this is a genre that flirts dangerously with mediocrity, and so often bestselling authors fail to recapture the romcom magic they created in their debut novel as they continuously pump out more colorful covers to their publisher's delight. I mean, I get it. It's hard to make chicklit magic without falling into formulaic, boring plotlines, bad writing and mundane characters. Having said that, it's even harder to a) find the good authors and b) select their best works. These tables at Barnes & Noble (or Borders) make this task so much easier, so I was really excited to find some good stuff today.
So, this is the longest setup to a story ever, but I'm plodding around the fiction area which happens to be adjacent to the teen section. A book catches my eye, somewhat because of its lime green cover, but mostly because of its title ttyl. (I am not hyperlinking this because I don't think it deserves any more attention than this.) I pick up the book and turn it over; the plot is something along the lines of "a year in the life of a middle school girl", and I begin to flip through the pages. To my complete and utter horror, this entire book, and its second and third installments were written in the style of instant message conversations. Usernames and different colored fonts were all over the pages and there were insipid abbreviations that I grimace when I use - "g2g" and of course "ttyl", as you would guess from the title.
Now, I get that books have always tried to be hip and I'm sure the Babysitter's Club was contemporary in its time, but should publishers really be scraping the bottom of the barrel this hard? There is no redeeming value in these books, save the fact that some parent can sigh and think to themselves, Well, at least she's reading. Yes, OK, I'll grant you that, but reading what? Reading what she reads everyday on the computer screen when she talks to her friends. How far are we stooping as a society to get kids to read? Are we that desperate? I was in such a
pissy mood that I stormed off to the adult section only to find Who Moved My Blackberry?, which is apparently a year in the life of a man told via email. It had rave reviews all over it. I harumphed to myself, grabbed Angela's Ashes, which somehow felt a little less respected by being on the same table, and moved quickly to the escalator.
I guess what I'm saying is that books are starting to be like movies. Good movies are growing more and more scarce while the blockbuster hits are often pandering to the lowest common denominator. And, to some extent, its the same way with books. Good books aren't nearly as hard to come by, though. It's just that they have to forfeit their table space. Blackberry books get table space while Harper Lee is relegated to the back. Go figure.
The job, while being an amazing opportunity to write, was pretty lonely at times. I logged anywhere from six to ten miles a day trekking around parts of Manhattan, the outer boroughs and taking day trips as far as Atlantic City. While a lot of my friends initially voiced their interest in joining me for a day on the job, they quickly realized that it wasn't just eating, drinking, and cavorting for pay. I'd hit 10 galleries in a day, 3 museums, 4 restaurants, make a pit stop back at my apartment for a few hours to rest up, then head back and hit up 7 bars in one night. The fatigue was ridiculous, and no one wanted to join in (not to mention the fact that people rarely agree to venture off the island of Manhattan).
So I quickly found myself flying solo all day everyday around the city. I spent a lot of time on the subway and sitting in restaurants being completely bored since I really could only take so many notes. I lived by Astor Place, down in the East Village where I was subletting an apartment from a friend. She had graduated from NYU that previous May and was traveling that summer, offering up her place (fully furnished) for a cool $975/month. (A note: I have yet to find a deal that good for a New York apartment ever again.) She left a box of books in the corner of her room(I assume, from school), and it was only a matter of days before I found myself digging through it.
One of the first books I read from that box has ended up as one of my favorites of all time: Fast Food Nation. I found it enthralling and I have since described it to my friends as the kind of book that I would want to write: compelling, fascinating, thoroughly researched. It really is an amazing read and makes you think more deeply about an institution in this country that is often taken at face value.
Anyway, Fast Food Nation ended all too quickly, so I continued looking through the pile. Most of the books were too dense for summertime, so I googled Barnes & Noble. Arriving there at 10pm one night, I encountered their "Summer Favorites" table, which was a cornucopia, if you will, of all kinds of books. Everything looked amazing to me, but, most of all, it was the fact that chicklit seemed to have been singled out of the rows of fiction and piled neatly, albeit separately, next to more respected literature. I had an amazing time digging through these piles, and since then, I've looked forward to those tables.
Today, I expected to see them. It's really difficult to find good chicklit on your own because there's so much crap chicklit out there. To be honest, this is a genre that flirts dangerously with mediocrity, and so often bestselling authors fail to recapture the romcom magic they created in their debut novel as they continuously pump out more colorful covers to their publisher's delight. I mean, I get it. It's hard to make chicklit magic without falling into formulaic, boring plotlines, bad writing and mundane characters. Having said that, it's even harder to a) find the good authors and b) select their best works. These tables at Barnes & Noble (or Borders) make this task so much easier, so I was really excited to find some good stuff today.
So, this is the longest setup to a story ever, but I'm plodding around the fiction area which happens to be adjacent to the teen section. A book catches my eye, somewhat because of its lime green cover, but mostly because of its title ttyl. (I am not hyperlinking this because I don't think it deserves any more attention than this.) I pick up the book and turn it over; the plot is something along the lines of "a year in the life of a middle school girl", and I begin to flip through the pages. To my complete and utter horror, this entire book, and its second and third installments were written in the style of instant message conversations. Usernames and different colored fonts were all over the pages and there were insipid abbreviations that I grimace when I use - "g2g" and of course "ttyl", as you would guess from the title.
Now, I get that books have always tried to be hip and I'm sure the Babysitter's Club was contemporary in its time, but should publishers really be scraping the bottom of the barrel this hard? There is no redeeming value in these books, save the fact that some parent can sigh and think to themselves, Well, at least she's reading. Yes, OK, I'll grant you that, but reading what? Reading what she reads everyday on the computer screen when she talks to her friends. How far are we stooping as a society to get kids to read? Are we that desperate? I was in such a
pissy mood that I stormed off to the adult section only to find Who Moved My Blackberry?, which is apparently a year in the life of a man told via email. It had rave reviews all over it. I harumphed to myself, grabbed Angela's Ashes, which somehow felt a little less respected by being on the same table, and moved quickly to the escalator.
I guess what I'm saying is that books are starting to be like movies. Good movies are growing more and more scarce while the blockbuster hits are often pandering to the lowest common denominator. And, to some extent, its the same way with books. Good books aren't nearly as hard to come by, though. It's just that they have to forfeit their table space. Blackberry books get table space while Harper Lee is relegated to the back. Go figure.
let the games begin
Alright, alright. I know I've been MIA for way too long in terms of posting and I promise I'll do better. Work has been hell with 8:30 (or earlier) to 7:30 (or later) hours and I just haven't felt like reading that much.
The good news is it's Memorial Day weekend, and aside from barbeques and family get-togethers, Memorial Day weekend means one thing in particular: The official beginning of the season of chicklit.
Yes, it is now socially acceptable to be toting around colorful covers that contain the details of Manhattan-based romantic comedies without having people question your general intelligence. OK, maybe that last part isn't true, but at least you'll see more people (mostly women) succumbing to the "Summer Reading" table at Barnes & Noble. I like how the "Summer Reading" table in the young adult section is filled with literary greats, while the "Summer Reading" table down front in the adult section contains titles like "Bitter Is the New Black" and "Confessions of a Shopaholic".
To be honest, I don't have a problem with chicklit. In fact, I love it (or at least the good ones). I do, however, have a problem with people who only read chicklit, so, for this summer, I will be juggling both. This should be fairly easy, seeing as chicklit is, by nature, easily digestible and only takes a few days to read. So for this weekend, while I finish up Bill Bryson's book, I'll be reading Emily Giffin's newest release Love the One You're With. It's plot seems pretty standard: Woman has perfect marriage (or road to marriage), then meets another guy and begins to question whether she really has it all. One of two things will happen: Either she'll realize she's not actually as happy as she could be, and goes for the other man (who is often tall, dark, and handsome - a "bad boy", if you will), or she'll realize how she took her former life for granted, and returns to the miffed, but still loving former male companion. Funny how that works out.
As far as chicklit season goes, I'm not sure I can justify putting legitimate reading on hold for such a frivolous pursuit. So here's my compromise: I'll read chicklit only on the weekends (since it normally doesn't take longer than a few days to finish even a 300 page chicklit novel). Since chicklit is generally a summer activity, you'll only be seeing it on here mostly between Memorial Day and Labor Day and on vacations of course. I can't promise that it won't pop up here in the heart of winter, but I can tell you that you won't be seeing it every week.
The good news is it's Memorial Day weekend, and aside from barbeques and family get-togethers, Memorial Day weekend means one thing in particular: The official beginning of the season of chicklit.
Yes, it is now socially acceptable to be toting around colorful covers that contain the details of Manhattan-based romantic comedies without having people question your general intelligence. OK, maybe that last part isn't true, but at least you'll see more people (mostly women) succumbing to the "Summer Reading" table at Barnes & Noble. I like how the "Summer Reading" table in the young adult section is filled with literary greats, while the "Summer Reading" table down front in the adult section contains titles like "Bitter Is the New Black" and "Confessions of a Shopaholic".
To be honest, I don't have a problem with chicklit. In fact, I love it (or at least the good ones). I do, however, have a problem with people who only read chicklit, so, for this summer, I will be juggling both. This should be fairly easy, seeing as chicklit is, by nature, easily digestible and only takes a few days to read. So for this weekend, while I finish up Bill Bryson's book, I'll be reading Emily Giffin's newest release Love the One You're With. It's plot seems pretty standard: Woman has perfect marriage (or road to marriage), then meets another guy and begins to question whether she really has it all. One of two things will happen: Either she'll realize she's not actually as happy as she could be, and goes for the other man (who is often tall, dark, and handsome - a "bad boy", if you will), or she'll realize how she took her former life for granted, and returns to the miffed, but still loving former male companion. Funny how that works out.
As far as chicklit season goes, I'm not sure I can justify putting legitimate reading on hold for such a frivolous pursuit. So here's my compromise: I'll read chicklit only on the weekends (since it normally doesn't take longer than a few days to finish even a 300 page chicklit novel). Since chicklit is generally a summer activity, you'll only be seeing it on here mostly between Memorial Day and Labor Day and on vacations of course. I can't promise that it won't pop up here in the heart of winter, but I can tell you that you won't be seeing it every week.
Thursday, May 15, 2008
what I'd give for a cubicle...
The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way
You'd think that starting out at the bottom of the corporate ladder would invariably land me amidst a sea of cubicles. Unfortunately, this is not the case for me. Instead, we have tables - big, open, expansive tables - that fully expose us to all the members of upper management that happen to stroll by. There is no hiding.
I'm sure many of you are thinking, Gee, it must be so hard to secretly surf the internet. In fact, it isn't. Yes, I possess an iron constitution, but, like the Soviet newspapers of the Cold War, there are only about three websites that aren't blocked and they all say the same thing. I could continue to vent my frustration over this point, but what I'm trying to say is that I sit at work and think about how I want to read Bill Bryson's book instead of actually getting to do so.
That's my pitiful excuse for the lack of progress I've made, but I'll tell you what I know thus far. I'm about 40 pages in, and I can tell you it's good. It's subject matter that I wouldn't normally investigate and, in that sense, it is refreshing. It's surprisingly historical in nature (so far). I'm learning about the development of language within homo sapien and it isn't close to being as overwhelming as you'd think.
The last time I encountered this type of history in a book was in Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel, and as much as I found his thesis fascinating, parts of the book became too mentally draining for me to continue on. (Yes, Guns, Germs, and Steel sits on my bookshelf in a decorative capacity.) At first, I was slightly worried the same thing would happen here, but Bryson clearly knows his audience, and it probably also helps that he's not after a Pulitzer. He reminds me much of one of my favorite professors in college who, with uncanny ability, taught through widly funny lectures masquerading as conversations. It was only after I left the lecture hall that it dawned on me that I had actually learned something.
If you're interested in the book, here's an excerpt for you to peruse.
You'd think that starting out at the bottom of the corporate ladder would invariably land me amidst a sea of cubicles. Unfortunately, this is not the case for me. Instead, we have tables - big, open, expansive tables - that fully expose us to all the members of upper management that happen to stroll by. There is no hiding.
I'm sure many of you are thinking, Gee, it must be so hard to secretly surf the internet. In fact, it isn't. Yes, I possess an iron constitution, but, like the Soviet newspapers of the Cold War, there are only about three websites that aren't blocked and they all say the same thing. I could continue to vent my frustration over this point, but what I'm trying to say is that I sit at work and think about how I want to read Bill Bryson's book instead of actually getting to do so.
That's my pitiful excuse for the lack of progress I've made, but I'll tell you what I know thus far. I'm about 40 pages in, and I can tell you it's good. It's subject matter that I wouldn't normally investigate and, in that sense, it is refreshing. It's surprisingly historical in nature (so far). I'm learning about the development of language within homo sapien and it isn't close to being as overwhelming as you'd think.
The last time I encountered this type of history in a book was in Jared Diamond's Guns, Germs, and Steel, and as much as I found his thesis fascinating, parts of the book became too mentally draining for me to continue on. (Yes, Guns, Germs, and Steel sits on my bookshelf in a decorative capacity.) At first, I was slightly worried the same thing would happen here, but Bryson clearly knows his audience, and it probably also helps that he's not after a Pulitzer. He reminds me much of one of my favorite professors in college who, with uncanny ability, taught through widly funny lectures masquerading as conversations. It was only after I left the lecture hall that it dawned on me that I had actually learned something.
If you're interested in the book, here's an excerpt for you to peruse.
Wednesday, May 14, 2008
A Fresh Start
Hello and welcome to my blog. As far as an introduction, the description under the title pretty much sums it up. When I packed up my books on my last day in the dorms at undisclosed university, I thought that, if nothing else, the presence of books in my post-college apartment would at least make me appear smart. That's right. Maybe I hadn't read them all (my dad always teased me about the books with barely more than a crease in the spine), but at least they presented a guise of culture, taste, and sophistication. Of course there were some books that I read and loved dearly, but there were so many that I just never seemed to get the motivation to open during my college years (even if they were assigned reading).
And then I graduated. I graduated and I no longer had to read anything. I spent the summer traveling, and during a layover before a 6 hour flight to Seattle, I picked up A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I'd like to think I attended some decent schools, but I had never been forced to read Betty Smith's work. So there, in the airport terminal at JFK, faced with a choice of Danielle Steele, Tom Clancy, or Betty Smith, I chose to read Betty Smith. And it was amazing. No longer was I frantically searching for traces of neoaestheticrealism. No longer was I seeking out supporting evidence for a thesis even I didn't believe in. No longer was the clock ticking as the deadline for a 12 page paper loomed near. Without the pressure, reading was great. And when that book was finished, I needed another (and another and another).
It grew like a drug habit (thank you, A Million Little Pieces) and by the time the summer was over and I had started at my new job, I had read some great books: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, A Death in Belmont by Sebastian Junger, and I couldn't stop. I have an ok job, but it's nowhere near as mentally engaging as learning was, so, ironically, now I need my books. I need my books to meet new people and think new thoughts and see from new perspectives. The once uncreased spines of the untouched books are gradually being bent as their pages are turned for the first time.
In my new fervor for reading, many of my friends have asked me for recommendations or what I'm currently reading. So, in part, this blog is for them. It's for anyone who knows me (or doesn't know me) to check and see what books are good or what I'm up to. I invite anyone to read books with me or read other books or let me know their opinion - the comments section is just for that. On the other hand, this blog is for me to write thoughts and feelings (don't worry, not deep ones) down and track my progress as I wade through the ever-expanding list of books I want to read.
In terms of site navigation, it's pretty simple. On the right-hand side, I have (or will have) a few widgets you can browse: New York Times Book Review and Amazon Bestsellers are the most self-explanatory. The Shelfari application is amazing. You can set up your own profile (as I have done) which easily displays books you want to read, are reading, or have read and you can read what others are saying about them. My current bookshelf over to the side shows the books that are in the literary bullpen, so to speak (that's fancy talk for "those are the books stacked next to my bed"). Click on it, and you can see my entire shelf.
If you want to see what I'm currently reading, look at my daily posts. Tomorrow I'll begin writing about what I'm reading at this moment: The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way by Bill Bryson.
And then I graduated. I graduated and I no longer had to read anything. I spent the summer traveling, and during a layover before a 6 hour flight to Seattle, I picked up A Tree Grows in Brooklyn. I'd like to think I attended some decent schools, but I had never been forced to read Betty Smith's work. So there, in the airport terminal at JFK, faced with a choice of Danielle Steele, Tom Clancy, or Betty Smith, I chose to read Betty Smith. And it was amazing. No longer was I frantically searching for traces of neoaestheticrealism. No longer was I seeking out supporting evidence for a thesis even I didn't believe in. No longer was the clock ticking as the deadline for a 12 page paper loomed near. Without the pressure, reading was great. And when that book was finished, I needed another (and another and another).
It grew like a drug habit (thank you, A Million Little Pieces) and by the time the summer was over and I had started at my new job, I had read some great books: Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides, In Cold Blood by Truman Capote, A Death in Belmont by Sebastian Junger, and I couldn't stop. I have an ok job, but it's nowhere near as mentally engaging as learning was, so, ironically, now I need my books. I need my books to meet new people and think new thoughts and see from new perspectives. The once uncreased spines of the untouched books are gradually being bent as their pages are turned for the first time.
In my new fervor for reading, many of my friends have asked me for recommendations or what I'm currently reading. So, in part, this blog is for them. It's for anyone who knows me (or doesn't know me) to check and see what books are good or what I'm up to. I invite anyone to read books with me or read other books or let me know their opinion - the comments section is just for that. On the other hand, this blog is for me to write thoughts and feelings (don't worry, not deep ones) down and track my progress as I wade through the ever-expanding list of books I want to read.
In terms of site navigation, it's pretty simple. On the right-hand side, I have (or will have) a few widgets you can browse: New York Times Book Review and Amazon Bestsellers are the most self-explanatory. The Shelfari application is amazing. You can set up your own profile (as I have done) which easily displays books you want to read, are reading, or have read and you can read what others are saying about them. My current bookshelf over to the side shows the books that are in the literary bullpen, so to speak (that's fancy talk for "those are the books stacked next to my bed"). Click on it, and you can see my entire shelf.
If you want to see what I'm currently reading, look at my daily posts. Tomorrow I'll begin writing about what I'm reading at this moment: The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way by Bill Bryson.
Subscribe to:
Comments (Atom)
