BOOK ‘EM, DYL-O

Dylan says I have to do this, so here goes . . .

You’re stuck inside Fahrenheit 451, which book do you want to be?

Hmm . . . something useful; something which could protect the life of the mind in the face of a new Dark Ages . . . I’d have to go with Thoreau’s Walden. You can gag on his insincerity, but at heart, every American is a Transcendentalist wannabe.

Have you ever had a crush on a fictional character?

Yes. Though I’ve finally come to the conclusion that the man’s writing talent is a touch over “hack,” Andrew Greeley has created a number of female characters that I found irresistible. Who better than a celibate to tell us what actually touches our hearts?

The last book you bought is:

I don’t buy new books, usually; Half Price Books loves me. I could not for the life of me tell you what the last new fiction book I bought was. The last not-new one was Shea and Wilson’s Illuminatus! trilogy, and I just bought that today.

Nonfiction is a different story; the last new nonfiction book I bought was James Surowiecki’s The Wisdom of Crowds, which I resoundingly recommend to anyone.

The last book you read:

The Worst Rock & Roll Records of All Time by Jimmy Guterman and Owen O’Donnell. It’s a great, snark, hilarious book, but I’ll spare you the suspense: the worst rock song ever (according to them) is “My Ding-A-Ling;” the worst album, “Having Fun On Stage With Elvis;” the worst artist of all time, Billy Joel. Those are some pretty solid picks.

What are you currently reading?

Shea and Wilson’s Illuminatus! trilogy.

Five books you would take to a deserted island:

As Dylan did, I’m going to claim the Desert Island Discs exemption and assume I get the Bible and the complete Shakespeare. However, I probably won’t read the Shakespeare.

1. The Crucified God by Jurgen Moltmann. It may be the only theology book I really need. Robert Farrar Capon’s The Foolishness of Preaching is another favorite of mine, but without anyone to preach to, its usefulness would be somewhat limited.
2. Living More With Less by Doris Janzen Longacre will help me stave off the materialistic withdrawal pains; perhaps instead of thinking myself deprived on my deserted island, I’ll rejoice that I’m free of the need to keep up with anybody.
3. Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain by Betty Edwards. Sooner or later I’m going to feel the need to conjure up images to remind me of who I was/am; this remarkable book will lessen the frustration that often occurs when translating images from the mind’s eye to two-dimensional reality.
4. The Essential Ellison by Harlan Ellison. This is a big enough book that I can’t just blast through it in a day, plus it contains enough out-of-left-field thinking to inspire my own creativity, which I figure I’ll need to avoid going insane, since even I can’t spend all my time reading.
5. St. Valentine’s Night by Andrew Greeley. Memories of love will probably become incredibly painful, but I still don’t want to forget what it’s like. This book, flawed as it is, captures the feelings of love the way I feel them.

(Yes, yes, I know; I answered this question too literally. If whomever started this meme wanted to know my five favorite books, that would have been an excellent question to ask . . .)

Who are you going to pass this stick to (3 persons) and why?

Steve Casburn, since he’s a librarian, and the other librarian who haunts these parts doesn’t blog; Harry, who reads lots of interesting stuff; and Zombyboy, just because. Oh, and Dave Fried, because I’ll be danged if I’m going to let some meme-writer tell me I can’t issue this challenge to four people.

BOOK REVIEWS, OF A SORT

I’ve officially ejected on Gaiman and Pratchett’s Good Omens. This is the second time I’ve tried to read it, and the second time I’ve failed. Too many characters; I can’t keep them all straight. I mean, I’ve read novels with a lot more characters than Good Omens, but I could keep them straight, because I actually cared who was whom. Not with this book, though. Maybe I’m a little too close to the subject matter, but it struck me as too clever by half. It was sort of like the “Left Behind” books as conceived by Douglas Adams and, while I know this puts me in a minority, I never did care for Douglas Adams’ writing.

Ben Elton’s Popcorn was a different matter, partially because the novel only has five or six real characters, and mostly because the ridiculous plot keeps the enterprise from bogging down. Popcorn tells the story of an Oliver Stone/Quentin Tarantino archetype who makes insanely violent movies, but denies that his films have any effect on society. A pair of mass-murderers suspiciously like Mickey and Mallory from Stone’s Natural Born Killers decide that their only hope for avoiding the electric chair is to get this producer/director to admit that they are his creation; they wouldn’t have gone around killing people if he didn’t make it look so goshdarned cool. It’s an interesting concept, but Elton, a Brit, just can’t hide his contempt for Americans, their guns, and their media. In the end, the whole book gets torpedoed by the thought that TV cameras can do for these lowlifes what they did for OJ or the Menendez brothers. Following a Die Hard-style bloodbath, Elton caps off the novel with a ridiculous epilogue in which, with a heavy hand, he tries to claim that no one, ultimately would claim responsibility–or be held responsible–for the mass-murder spree. One gets the sense that Elton would like to blame Hollywood and gun manufacturers. Popcorn was, to borrow a media cliche, a real page-turner, but the conclusion is so unsatisfying that I can’t recommend it. In the real America, these two killers would fry like chickens.

Back to American authors for me. Next on the docket are Tom Wolfe’s I Am Charlotte Simmons and Robert Shea and Robert Anton Wilson’s Illuminatus! trilogy. Thence it’s on to the Sean Stewart book Zombyboy recommended.

VIGNETTES FROM A MARRIAGE, #(WHATEVER)

He: One of the the stocks in my fantasy stock market thingy is up 21% today.
She: Why don’t we own this stock in real life?
He: [sad, bemused smirk]