#32: White Noise by Don DeLillo

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100 books, book review, books, literature, philosophy, technology

I have made no secret of my strained relationship with technology (see this rant for proof).  As much as I enjoy the ability to procure endless entertainment with minimal effort, I worry about the effect such ease has on our lives.  The old man hiding inside of me looks back to the halcyon days of childhood, when being friends meant more than accepting a request on Facebook.  Playing football meant going out in the front yard and cracking skulls with the neighborhood kids, not turning on the Xbox 360 and pressing buttons.  This wasn’t because technology didn’t exist.  It was because the generations responsible for raising my own recognized the value of actual experience over virtual accomplishments.  My mother limited the amount of Nintendo we could play.  My brothers and I were required to go outside for a certain amount of time each day.  TV was a last resort, saved for family movie nights and rainy days.  The sensibility that limited the impact of technology on my childhood seems to have disappeared at some point in the past ten or fifteen years.  For many people, I suspect it disappeared long before that.  I shudder to think what impact this fundamental shift in our relationship with technology will have on the future.  Apparently I am not alone in my concern. (For the record, I recognize the irony of making such a rant via internet blog post)

Don DeLillo’s White Noise is the story of Jack Gladney, a professor of Hitler Studies at the College-on-the-Hill somewhere in middle America.  Jack’s life with his fourth wife, Babette, and their children is permeated by the omnipresent whine of technology.  The TV and the radio constantly offer commentary and commercials, uniting the family with the rest of America in a great quilt of consumerism.  Jack is happy, only vaguely haunted by the fear of his own eventual death.  This changes when a nearby chemical spill releases a black cloud of insecticide byproduct.  The airborne toxic event forces Jack and his family to evacuate their home.  Although they are allowed to return after little more than a week, the peaceful life the family knew is hopelessly disrupted.  Jack’s possible exposure to the cloud has him focused relentlessly on the possibility of his imminent demise.  Babette is also consumed by her fear of death.  A potential cure for their dread arrives in the form of Dylar, a medication that promises to eradicate the fear of death.  When Dylar fails, Jack resorts to extreme measures to ease his pain.  Through it all the hum of technology continues to surround him.

White Noise is more than a meditation on death.  It is an indictment of the influence of technology and commercialism on our everyday lives.  Jack does not fear his natural death.  It is only when exposed to a manmade disaster that he fears his unnatural demise.  The black cloud seems to rob him of the joy of living.  What DeLillo manages to express is that the white noise surrounding him had already cheapened Jack’s existence.  The black cloud simply makes him aware of that fact.  Jack’s relationships are defined by technology.  The comfort and ease offered by all of the devices surrounding him is enticing but ultimately dulling.  It blurs the line between what is real and what is merely projected.  It is a shame that the internet and social media did not exist in 1985 when DeLillo wrote this book.  I am sure he would have a great deal to say about these developments.

I was immediately captivated by White Noise.  It seems to say so many of the things I have often thought about technology.  What is the price we pay for so much convenience?  Have we given up some part of real pleasure for the appearance of comfort?  These are questions worth considering, and this is a book worth reading. White Noise is like the bastard offspring of Kurt Vonnegut and Marshall McLuhan, full of both dark humor and substantial social criticism.  Turn off the TV and read this book!

The Current Count

32 Read, 68 To Go

#31: The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy by Jacob Burckhardt

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100 books, book review, books, classics, history, Italy

After the excitement of my Jeopardy! appearance last week and a few days without my laptop (thanks to a defective power cord), I finally return to the actual mission of this blog– reading.  I am playing catch up a bit, as I finished number thirty-one last Thursday.  After a string of novels I decided to go for something more academic.  I settled on Jacob Burckhardt’s seminal work of history, The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy.

Burckhardt’s Civilization of the Renaissance is a watershed moment in the treatment of the Renaissance.  Earlier books about this period tended to focus on the great individuals.  Burckhardt changed that by presenting a work of cultural history.  Rather than focusing on specific individuals and their deeds, he focused on cultural trends and societal developments.  The result is both informative and engaging.  Burckhardt explores the Italian Renaissance in a systematic way, considering the development of the state, the individual, the revival of antiquity, advances in science and literature, secular society, and the changing nature and role of religion.  Although more recent books include more depth in certain areas (particularly economics), Burckhardt remains the standard.  What Edward Gibbon is to the end of the Roman Empire, Burckhardt is to the Italian Renaissance.

The Civilization of the Renaissance in Italy is a tremendously informative book.  Burckhardt presents a wealth of information to be consumed by the willing reader.  I learned a great deal and enjoyed the book very much.  That said, there are a few cautionary words I should offer.  First, go into this book prepared to look up various historical figures and facts.  Burckhardt assumes a certain depth of knowledge regarding the Italian Renaissance, and the uninformed reader can get confused.  Despite being reasonably well-studied in this era, I found it necessary to look up many things as i read.  Second, the translation used in my edition (the Modern Library edition from 2002) and every other English edition I can find is that of S.G.C. Middlemore from 1878.  While the book is very engaging, the translation is rendered in Victorian English and comes across a bit stilted at times.  A modern translation would be a welcome gift from the literary gods.  Even with these two caveats, I would highly recommend this book to any individual interested in the Italian Renaissance.  It was an era that continues to exert an influence on our own and is well worth studying.

The Current Count

31 Read, 69 To Go

#30: The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest by Stieg Larsson

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100 books, book review, books, literature

Preparing for the GRE seems to have sapped all of my mental energy and thus more than a week has passed since I finished reading the final book in Stieg Larsson’s Millenium trilogy, The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.  This novel opens with Lisbeth Salander near death after being shot in the head by Russian gangster Zalachenko.  She is accused of attempted murder of Zalachenko and seems certain to go to jail.  Her only hope is for Mikael Blomkvist and an assortment of her friends to uncover a sinister plot within the secret police to keep Salander committed to an institution in order to hide the doings of a small group of individuals known as The Section.  Blomkvist’s investigations put his own life in danger, and he must try to help Salander while protecting his other friends.  Again, this is a very abbreviated summary.  If you have read the book, you know what I mean.  If you haven’t, I have deliberately kept from ruining it for you, so read it!

I enjoyed this book the most out of the Millenium trilogy.  Part of the reason is probably because this is the only one of which I had not already seen a movie version.  I also enjoy espionage novels, and the hunt for the Section reminded me a bit of Le Carre’s Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy.  Larsson’s talent for building suspense is on full display in The Girl Who Kicked the Hornet’s Nest.  It is the longest of the three novels (and could have done without a few sections), but reads like a much shorter book.  I highly recommend the entire trilogy.

The Current Count

30 Read, 70 To Go

#29: The Girl Who Played With Fire by Stieg Larsson

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100 books, book review, books, literature

I knocked out book twenty-nine four days ago, but as usual have been a bit slow in posting my review.  As with The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo, I will keep my summary of Stieg Larsson’s The Girl Who Played With Fire  brief so that I don’t spoil the surprise for the uninitiated.  The second novel in Larsson’s Millenium Trilogy returns us to investigative journalist Mikael Blomkvist and oddball hacker Lisbeth Salander.  When a couple researching a prostitution ring for Blomkvist’s magazine are murdered, Salander is named the prime suspect.  A third murder is also tied to her.  All of Sweden seems certain that she is guilty, and a widespread manhunt ensues.  Blomkvist is certain of his friend’s innocence and launches his own investigation.  There is also a shadowy presence lurking over the crimes, known only by the name Zala.  As Salander prepares to defend herself, her friends risk everything to save her.

I enjoyed this book, but not as much as the first in the series.  The main reason is probably that I knew the big secret of the book before reading it.  I had already seen the Swedish version of this film and therefore knew the conclusion.  That definitely detracted from the experience.  It was enjoyable, but a bit less so as a result of my knowledge.  I would still recommend the book, but mostly as preparation for the third installment (which I am almost finished with!).

The Current Count

29 Read, 71 To Go

#28: The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo by Stieg Larsson

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100 books, book review, books, literature, movies, Stieg Larsson

I have previously discussed my reluctance to read any book that has achieved widespread popular acclaim. I am a book snob, plain and simple. If the common folk like a book, then it must be beneath the intellectual giant that is me (I know, I am a little bit of an ass). This rule has worked to my benefit on several occasions, having protected me from the teenage titillation of Twilight and the harebrained poppycock of Harry Potter (I worked hard on that sentence). It has also very nearly done me a great disservice on multiple occasions. It was this snobbery that almost kept me from Cormac McCarthy (thanks to Daniel and Seth at Surf Waco for setting me straight). It was also this snobbery that almost kept me from Stieg Larsson’s The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo. Despite watching and enjoying both the Swedish and American film versions of this novel, I was hesitant to pick it up. Thanks to my wife’s insistence, I finally did so.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo is part crime novel and part onion. There are several plot lines layered together into an incredibly entertaining whole. The core plot revolves around the disappearance and suspected murder of teenager Harriet Vanger in the 1960’s. Harriet’s uncle, wealthy industrial Henrik Vanger, hires Mikael Blomkvist to look into her case in the hope of turning up new information before Henrik succumbs to his advanced age. With the help of talented but troubled researcher Lisbeth Salander, Blomkvist uncovers a shocking chain of grisly murders that leads him to the truth about Harriet. There are several subplots that explain the psychology and backgrounds of both Blomkvist and Salander, creating sincere and believable characters. I won’t summarize in any greater detail because most of the universe has already read this book, and I don’t want to spoil it for those precious few who lag behind even me in jumping on this bandwagon.

The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo deserves every bit of the acclaim surrounding it. It is both well written and well translated. Although it is graphically violent and graphically sexual in parts, these sections seem neither gratuitous nor glorifying. Larsson’s plot draws the reader in so deeply that it is nearly impossible to put the book down once it is begun. I read the 644 page novel in a day and a half. Despite knowing the plot (thanks to the two movie versions), I was absolutely captivated. This is one case in which I happily acknowledge the error of my ways. If you have resisted this book out of a snobbishness akin to my own, give in to current of popular acclaim. You will not regret it.

The Current Count

28 Read, 72 To Go

#27: Discourse on Method by Rene Descartes

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100 books, book review, books, classics, Descartes, philosophy, religion

Nietzsche has dominated my philosophical readings of late, so I decided to shift gears and try a new thinker.  A quick trip to Half Price Books and I was ready to delve into Descartes.  I had some familiarity with Descartes but had never read any of his writings.  His Discourse on Method seemed like the perfect place to start.

The full title of this work is actually Discourse on the Method for Conducting One’s Reason Well and for Seeking the Truth in the Sciences.  For some reason, it is more commonly known simply as the Discourse on Method.  In this short treatise, Descartes outlines his plan to examine all of the things he held to be true and determine whether they can be known with certainty through nothing more than reason and demonstration.  He distinguishes his efforts from classical skepticism by recognizing that there are some truths that can be absolutely known.  The most basic of these is his famous “I think, therefore I am”.  He goes on to demonstrate the necessary existence and perfection of God, and then to generally discuss certain truths about man, the heavens, and the physical world. 

This book has long been considered one of the most important works in modern philosophy, and with good reason.  Descartes’ method for examining the truths of the world has had a tremendous influence on the methods of later philosophers and the methods of natural scientists.  He writes with a clarity and honesty that is refreshing compared to many other philosophers.  While I disagree with some of the logic he employs to arrive at some of his supposedly incontrovertible truths, I applaud his efforts and admire his methods.  I specifically disagree with his proof of the existence of God.  It is essentially, Anselm of Canterbury’s ontological proof restated in a slightly different formula.  While interesting and apparently sound from a logical standpoint, this method of proving the existence of God requires that the individual making the argument believe in God to begin with.  It is a bit of philosophical reverse engineering.  If you believe that God exists, then the ontological proof seems valid.  If you doubt that God exists, the ontological proof will not persuade you.  This critique is certainly not reason enough to disregard Descartes’ Discourse.  I highly recommend it to anyone with an interest in philosophy.

The Current Count

27 Read, 73 To Go

#26: Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy

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100 books, book review, books, Cormac McCarthy, literature

A few years ago I began trying to put together a list of every book I have ever read.  While I cannot hope to remember all of them (especially those from my childhood), I have done a pretty fair job of recalling most of them.  The list currently stands at 434 different books (not counting books that I have read on multiple occasions).  There are a few books that stand out in my memory as truly great.  Hemingway’s For Whom the Bell Tolls is one favorite.  Shakespeare’s Julius Caesar is another.  Plato’s Republic, Milton’s Paradise Lost, and Nietzsche’s Thus Spoke Zarathustra will have lasting impacts on my intellect.  Vonnegut’s Slaughterhouse-5 will always have a special place in my heart, as will the recently deceased Ray Bradbury’s Farenheit 451.  Yet out of all of these books there is one that has earned the distinction of the best book I have ever read.  That book is Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy, book number twenty-six this year.

Blood Meridian is the story of the Kid, a fourteen-year-old Tennessean who runs away from his abusive and alcoholic father in roughly 1848.  The Kid makes his way to Texas, eventually finding himself at a religious revival in Nacogdoches.  Here he meets Judge Holden, an enormous and entirely hairless man who will emerge as the novel’s antagonist.  Holden accuses the reverend holding the revival of impure acts with both an 11-year-old girl and a goat in Fort Smith, Arkansas, enraging the crowd and inciting them to kill the preacher.  Holden later reveals that he made up the accusations.  The Kid continues his travels, working his way down to San Antonio.  He signs on with an expedition of ex-US Army soldiers intent on reclaiming territory returned to the Mexican government following the end of the Mexican-American War.  Shortly after crossing into Mexico the party is attacked by Comanches and most of the soldiers are killed.  The Kid makes it to Chihuahua, where he is arrested for participating in the illegal enterprise.

The Kid and two other Americans secure their release by signing on with a scalphunting operation headed by a man named Glanton.  The scalphunters have a contract with the Chihuahuan state to protect villagers from Indian attacks (specifically Apache), and are paid for each scalp they bring in.  Judge Holden is Glanton’s unofficial co-commander and is looked at with awe by most of his fellow marauders.  The Kid learns that Glanton’s gang found the Judge in the middle of the desert when they were fleeing from a band of Apaches.  The gang was out of gunpowder, but Holden brought them to a burned out volcano where he proceeded to mix a batch of gunpowder from the elements available.  This allowed the gang to slaughter the Apaches and established Holden as an almost superhuman figure.  The Kid also learns that every other member of the gang (except for Tobin, an ex-priest) claims to have met the Judge somewhere else prior to signing on with Glanton.  The gang proceeds to engage the Apaches when possible, but eventually descend into butchery of anyone who crosses their path, including innocent villagers, peaceful Indians, and Mexican National Guardsmen.  When word gets back to the Chihuahuan authorities, the gang flees to the borderland between Arizona and the Mexican state of Sonora.

In the area around Yuma, Arizona the gang seizes a ferry on the Colorado River.  They use the ferry to rob and abuse travelers headed for California and fortify their position as a base from which to raid the nearby Yuma Indians.  Eventually the Yumas mount an attack and slaughter the gang, scalping Glanton in the process.  The Kid escapes with the ex-priest Tobin, and Holden escapes separately.  Holden encounters the Kid and Tobin in the desert, and tries to talk the Kid out of his gun.  The Kid refuses and sets out with Tobin.  Holden eventually gets two rifles from other survivors and tracks the Kid and Tobin in the desert.  After the Kid passes on several opportunities to shoot Holden, they successfully hide from Holden (although Tobin is shot in the neck).  The Kid and Tobin make their way to San Diego, where they are separated and the Kid is imprisoned.  He is visited in his cell by Holden, who tells him that the authorities belive the Kid to be responsible for the demise of the Glanton gang (due to Holden’s testimony).  The Kid reveals the true circumstances to his jailers and is eventually released. 

The final chapter takes the reader to 1878, where the Kid is now known as the Man.  The Man encounters Holden in a Fort Griffin, Texas saloon.  Holden does not appear to have aged at all.  Holden tells the Man that his sympathy for the Indians was the seed that ultimately led to the demise of the gang.  There is no room for sympathy or clemency in a world ruled by violence and bloodshed.  He implies that the Man exists only for the purpose of doing violence, which the Man denies.  The two go their separate ways.  Later that evening, the Man enters an outhouse to find the enormous and hairless Holden waiting for him naked.  The events in the outhouse are left vague, with two other men later entering and reacting with horror to what they see.  The novel ends with Judge Holden dancing and fiddling back at the saloon, declaring to his fellow revelers that he will never die.

Blood Meridian is not a fun book to read.  It is unbelievably violent and deeply disturbing.  It is also beautifully written in prose that seems Biblical at times.  McCarthy has a singular gift for creating characters and landscapes that seem larger than real life and yet entirely believable.  Judge Holden is one of the most remarkable characters I have encountered in all of my reading.  His seems to represent wisdom and erudition at the same time that he represents violence and depravity.  The best word I can think of to describe him is haunting.  He will stay with you for a very long time.  He somehow exudes a magnetic quality that draws the other characters (and the reader) to him despite his despicable deeds.  The Kid manages to be a sort of hero despite engaging in many of the same violent acts that are so easy to condemn in the Judge.  His ultimate demise at the hands of Holden seems to imply that evil and violence will eventually extinguish even the tiniest shred of goodness in this world. 

Blood Meridian is painful and depressing.  It is violent and horrifying.  It is exhausting and excruciating.  It is also the greatest book from the greatest living American author.  Read it (and then adopt a puppy to feel joy in your life again).

The Current Count

26 Read, 74 To Go

#25: Ecce Homo by Friedrich Nietzsche

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100 books, book review, books, Nietzsche, philosophy

Well over a week ago I finished my twenty-fifth book of the year.  I usually greet this milestone with some sort of fanfare, but this year I let it slip by unnoticed.  The reasons are many, with the end of the school year occupying much of my time last week, beginning to study for the GRE (which I take at the end of this month), looking at graduate schools in earnest, and getting hooked by another book before I had blogged about my previous conquest.  Today I emerge from my technological slumber and finally post about number twenty-five.

Friedrich Nietzsche has been one of my most frequently read authors over the past few years.  His writing is always engaging and entertaining, and his philosophy is always challenging and stimulating.  Ecce Homo is no exception to that rule.  This is Nietzsche’s short intellectual autobiography, written shortly before his descent into madness.  The title is a latin phrase meaning “Behold the man”, which is uttered by Pontius Pilate when he presents the beaten and bloodied Jesus to the crowd shortly before his execution.  The book contains a short preface and four chapters with such bold titles as “Why I Am So Wise” and “Why I Write Such Excellent Books”.  Coupled with the title of the book itself, these chapter titles insinuate a certain amount of braggadocio on the part of Nietzsche.  The text of the book reveals a surprising amount of humility.  Nietzsche presents himself not as some towering intellect or incomparable thinker.  The quality that sets him apart is the courage to take his inquiry to its reasonable conclusion, despite the suffering that can accompany such intense inspection of the belief system surrounding an individual.  Nietzsche believes that the physical and emotional suffering he endured through the course of his life gave him the strength to pursue his philosophy through any intellectual suffering.  He paints himself as a new kind of philosopher, one that actively says yes to all of life.  This is very different from the priestly or purely academic philosophers preceding him.

I found this book to be wonderfully insightful about Nietzsche as a man and a philosopher.  It is definitely one that should be read after most of Nietzsche’s other books, as he offers specific commentary about each of his major works.  There are only a few I have not yet read and I intend to return to Ecce Homo after having done so.  I would recommend this book to any seasoned veteran of Nietzsche but would caution any Nietzsche novices about diving in too soon.

The Current Count

25 Read, 75 To Go

#24: Secrets of the Heart by Khalil Gibran

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100 books, book review, books, classics, Gibran, literature, philosophy, poetry

I went with another quick read for my twenty-fourth book of the year, choosing Khalil Gibran’s Secrets of the Heart.  Based on my previous experience with Gibran, I expected a deeply philosophical book written in beautiful figurative language.  As usual, Gibran did not disappoint. 

Secrets of the Heart is a collection of poems and short stories that reflect Gibran’s general philosophy of renouncing worldly goods in favor of universal brotherhood.  He writes in language that is both wonderfully symbolic and ageless.  My favorite selections from this particular book were “Dead Are My People” and “John the Madman.”  “Dead Are My People” is a poem about the death and suffering of the people of Lebanon during World War I and Gibran’s guilt about escaping that suffering by moving with his family to America.  “John the Madman” is a short story about a young farmer in Syria who reads the New Testament in his spare time (against the orders of local priests).  His observations of the real world and the sermons preached by the priests do not align with his own scriptural readings.  When he (rightfully) speaks out against the corruption and wickedness he sees, he is dismissed as a madman and shunned.  Both of these stories are well written and very profound.  Even if the other selections offered in Secrets of the Heart had no value, I would recommend the book based on these two stories.  Fortunately, the entire book is wonderful.  Although I would recommend The Prophet or The Madman more highly, Secrets of the Heart is well worth reading.

The Current Count

24 Read, 76 To Go

#23: One Hundred and One Famous Poems, edited by Roy Cook

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100 books, book review, books, poetry

Despite being a certified English teacher who ostensibly taught poetry to a group of 10th graders last year, I have read very little English poetry apart from Shakespeare and Milton.  I occasionally get the urge to correct that shortcoming and branch out a bit in my reading.  My most recent selection is one of those efforts.  One Hundred and One Famous Poems is exactly what it sounds like– a collection of one hundred and one famous poems.  It includes some well-known classics I had encountered before, such as Tennyson’s Charge of the Light Brigade, Poe’s Raven, Whitman’s O Captain! My Captain!, Henley’s Invictus, and Kipling’s If.  It also includes several that I had never encountered.  My favorite of these was either I Have a Rendezvous with Death by Alan Seeger or Horatius by Thomas Babington Macaulay.

I enjoyed my brief foray into the world of the poetic.  I appreciate the value of a well-crafted poem, one in which every word must be carefully considered to extract every bit of poetic meaning.  If you are looking for a nice sampling of English poetry, I would recommend this book.  That said, I would much rather read a novel.

The Current Count

23 Read, 77 To Go