Archive for December, 2009

With just hours remaining left in 2009, I think it’s safe to say that I cut it pretty close this year. In fact, were it not for a last minute remembrance of a book I had to read for Sunday school and a handful of young adult books, I don’t think I would have made it. Even as I type, my apartment lies in ruins, the Christmas tree still up, and my eyes are more than a little tired from the marathon reading I’ve done the last two days to make it. I’ll definitely be taking a little bit of a break in January.

Still, 100 books in one year is nothing to be ashamed off (even if some of them were painfully short). This is the first year I’ve ever bothered keeping track of what I read, and I’m very glad I did. I noticed things about myself as a reader (that I tend toward pop fiction far more than is probably good for me) and that will help me to be more deliberate about my choices in the future. I have to admit, it was also fun to glance over the list from time to time and remember what I was doing when I read that: such as reading The Annunciation of Francesca Dunn on my lunch break when I worked at a daycare in early ‘09, or reading through all those bridal books in February right after Nick and I were engaged.

So this will definitely be a tradition I keep up, although I may try to be much more deliberate about my pacing next year so it doesn’t all bunch up in the end like it did this year. But at the same time, I want to be careful that I always read for pleasure or for knowledge, never just for the number on the list. Honestly that wasn’t always the case this year, but it’s one more thing to improve upon.

Also next year, I’ll be joining the Classics Bookclub over at 5minutesforbooks.com. 12 books in 12 months, in addition to the ones that I’ll inevitably be reading for my real-life book club with a former professor, the Saturday morning book club for my husband and myself, and of course, whatever catches my eye at the library.

With that said, time for me to go clean up the apartment. And since I’m done remembering what books I’ve read in 2009, I leave you with a video to remember some of the other things that happened this past year. Enjoy!

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As I’m sure you are well aware (thanks to the ceaseless stream of media reminders), 2009 is swiftly ending. I for one am pretty happy about this; there were some bright spots in this year (like getting married) but a disturbingly high number of dark ones. Good riddance to 2009, bring on the fresh start of 2010!

This year my goal was to read 100 books. I’m pretty darn close to it, but I’ll definitely be pushing it right up to the end. My list was pretty haphazard; I drew from my “to-read” list but I kept it loose and pretty much just chronicled what I read this year. Looking back, I notice that a good chunk of the books were contemporary fiction, and I’m sadly lacking non-fiction and classic/old books.

Luckily, The Classics Bookclub at 5 Minutes for Books may be just the solution. So, along with my general resolution to be more deliberate about reading for knowledge and not just fun, here is my goals list, classic authors and/or books I want to read in 2010:

1. The Canterbury Tales (Geoffrey Chaucer) – We read some of these in college, and I had a lot of fun with them, but I just never got a chance to finish them. I need to find a decent translation, one that–if it doesn’t outright update the language–at least makes a good footnote of it, like the Penguin Shakespeares do. Along the same lines, I’d really love to finish the modern Canterbury Tales, Tokyo Cancelled (Rana Dasgupta).

2. Idylls of the King (Lord Tennyson) – aside from Homer, the only truly epic poetry I’ve ever read has been T. S. Eliot’s The Wasteland and a pitifully small part of Paradise Lost. I need more poetry in my literary diet, and hopefully the theme of one of my greatest childhood passions will help me struggle through it.

3. Anthony and Cleopatra, The Winter’s Tale, and Coriolanus (William Shakespeare) – my lifetime goal of getting through all of Shakespeare needs a kick in the rear; that’s why I’m counting all three of these as just one item. I hope to make it through more than just these three, but even if I don’t read any others, I’ll be satisfied to get through these.

4. The Hitchhiker’s Guide to the Galaxy (Douglas Adams) – I think this counts as a classic? I definitely wanted to get some old-school sci fi on this list, and toyed with something by Asimov or Dick, but I settled on Adams. Although I saw the movie and wasn’t much impressed, my husband and my brother both found it entertaining and scathingly insightful.

5. Lolita (Vladmir Nabokov) – I have tried 4 times to get through this, and I can’t make it without being completely creeped out. Still, I think it’s demonstrated itself to be an important work in literary history, and it would also help fill in my pathetically poor knowledge of Russian literature. 

6. The Brothers Karamazov (Fyodor Doestoevsky) – Several reasons for wanting to read this: recommended by many professors whom I respect, deals with free will/God/ethics, and is a great piece of Russian literature (which I really need to be better at/with).

7. The Lost Girl (D. H. Lawrence) – I’ve heard of Lawrence but never read anything by him; this seems as good as any, and sounds interesting.

8. A Study in Scarlet (Sir Arthur Conan Doyle) – never read any Sherlock Holmes before, but I reason that the best place to start would be at the beginning.

9. When the Sleeper Wakes (H. G. Wells) – I absolutely love dystopian fiction, and this one is largely ignored. Plus it’s H. G. Wells (whom I’ve never read, but I know he’s famous).

10. We (Yevgeny Zamyatin) – Russian AND dystopian – two birds with one stone!

11. Inferno (Dante Alighiri) – I’ve always been a little intimidated by this classic, but the new translation out from Oxford University Press–aimed especially at first-time readers–gives me hope. But, I don’t think I’ll try to pursue the other two volumes this year, even if I do like it.

12. 1 book by  Rudyard Kipling – I’ve studied him as a person in the context of Imperialist history, but I’ve never actually read anything. Since I don’t know much about him or his work, I’m leaving this one open.

Twelve books, twelve months; that sounds reasonable enough. I think that’s a darn good start!

Between work, family, friends, and my gigantic stack of library books, there’s a good chance I won’t get around to posting too much here at Shelf Life for the next few days (though you will definitely hear about it when I reach my 100 book goal!) So, as a sort of early Christmas present, dear readers I am delighted to present to you an exclusive interview with the superbly talented Mr. Alan Brennert. You can visit his website at www.alanbrennert.com

The author of Moloka’i, Honolulu, and Time and Chance, Mr. Brennert is by far one of the finest historical fiction writers of the day. Honolulu was just named one of the Best Books of 2009 by The Washington Post, and a new paperback edition–which will include a photo gallery of the real-life inspirations for the story–will be released on February 2, just in time to pick it up if you didn’t get it for Christmas!

Ashley:The time and setting in Honolulu are incredibly unique; how did you get the idea to write a book like this?

Alan Brennert: It was the people of the era who first intrigued me, people like Chang Apana and May Thompson and Duke Kahanamoku.  These were colorful characters living in a colorful time—Hawai’i’s so-called “glamour days” of the 1920s and 30s.  But those days were far from glamorous for the thousands of workers—immigrants and Native Hawaiians—laboring on plantations or living in Honolulu tenements.  This dichotomy interested me as well, and when I read about the “picture brides” who came to Hawai’i in the 1900s—many of whom were intriguing characters themselves—I found the perfect vessel through which to tell all these stories.

A:One of the aspects of your writing I love best is your ability to cover a wide scope of time through a collection of moments with emotional poignancy. You are one of the few authors who can make a novel feel like it spans an entire life without leaving out anything of significance. Can you articulate your philosophy of writing?

AB: I can’t say I have a conscious philosophy other than that the story should be both historically and emotionally true.  I don’t bend history to accommodate the plot nor do I have my characters behave in a way that isn’t true to themselves just to advance the story.  And in Moloka’i and Honolulu I also strived to be—in the words of my friend, Honolulu writer Cloudia Charters—“Hawai’i true,” that is, accurate in depicting Hawaiian culture, society, and traditions.

A: As a historical fiction author, what would you say the biggest flaw or obstacle authors of this genre struggle with? How do you overcome it yourself?

AB: I want my characters to be products of their time and culture, and not my time and culture; but the tools I have to tell their story are those of someone writing in English in 21st century America, and I try to stay aware of that as I write.  For example, I won’t use words in my narrative that weren’t in use in the time I’m writing about: in Moloka’i I chose not to use the word “zigzag” in describing the switchback pali trail because “zigzag” didn’t come into use until years after that scene took place.  I did have Rachel’s sister call her a “ninny” and Rachel called herself a “blockhead” once, and those words were in fact in use at those times; but sometimes I forget that most readers don’t necessarily know that, and those words might sound anachronistic to them, even though they’re not.  So it’s a fine line you have to walk.  People in the early 20th century really didn’t speak all that differently from the way we do today, and you don’t want them to sound like characters out of Masterpiece Theater; but neither do you want them to sound as if they just stepped in from The Hills.

A: Hawai’i is certainly a different place than it was in Jin or Rachel’s time, but in what ways do you see it still being the same?

AB: The beauty of the islands, the spirit of the people, and the sense of history you feel when visiting ‘Iolani Palace or the Bishop Museum or when sitting under the same hau tree (at the New Otani Kaimana Hotel) that Robert Louis Stevenson sat beneath more than a century before.

A:I was fascinated by the ways the immigrant community in the plantation camps and in the city blended together despite differing nationalities through pidgin and food. Are there remnants of this multicultural heritage still visible in Hawai’i today?

AB: Absolutely; it’s hard to miss.  Pidgin is still widely spoken, though no longer as a way of bridging communication gaps but as an expression of “local” culture.  There are dozens of ethnicities, and combinations thereof, in contemporary Hawai’i, but there is also a common pride in being “local,” in being of Hawai’i—much in the same way that as Americans we may all have our ethnic roots and take pride in them, but we self-identify as Americans first.

A: How did you come to be interested in Hawai’i? Was there anything particularly significant about your first visit that made you think,  “this is what I want to write about”?

AB: No joke: my interest began around 1960 with a comic book called Dennis the Menace Goes to Hawaii. This was one of those fat 25-cent annuals that sent Dennis to various exotic locales on vacation, and both the story and art—by Fred Toole and Al Wiseman—beautifully represented Hawai’i at the time of statehood, and really made an impression on me as a six-year-old kid growing up in New Jersey.  I finally made it to Hawai’i myself twenty years later, and instantly fell in love with it, not just the physical environment but the people and the culture.  But though I always had an interest in Hawaiian history and collected scads of books on the subject, I never thought seriously of writing about Hawai’i until I was asked by NBC in 1997 to write a pilot script set in the islands.  The pilot didn’t get made, but it got me thinking about doing a novel with a Hawaiian background, and a trip to Moloka’i started me reading about Kalaupapa.

A: Do you have plans for another book? If so, will it be set in Hawai’i as well?

AB: I’m working on a new novel set primarily in my home state of New Jersey, about a quirky family who owns a food concession at the legendary Palisades Amusement Park (which I grew up just down the street from).  There will be, however, a couple of scenes set in Hawai’i and the South Pacific, though I won’t be any more specific than that about the connection.  History was very much in the foreground in Honolulu, but in this one it’s more in the background, with the story told against the backdrop of the Great Depression, World War Two, and the 1950s and 60s.

A: A friend of mine is descended from a Korean picture bride who came to Hawai’i at about the time this book was written (I have recommended it to him, of course). How do you think a work like this could change the way people relate to their immigrant ancestors?

AB: I received a fan letter from a reader who said of my books, “I hope to let my daughter and granddaughter read them so they might understand the Hawai’i I once knew,” and I can’t think of a better compliment or a greater aspiration.

A: What is the best book you’ve ever read?

AB: That’s a tough one; every book is different, it’s like asking what’s the best snowflake you’ve ever seen.  Les Miserables and The Great Gatsby are both books that made me sit up and take notice as a young adult, but my favorite novel would have to be the heartbreakingly beautiful Flowers for Algernon by Daniel Keyes, followed closely by Jonathan Strong’s wonderful coming-of-age novel Ourselves.

A: What are you currently reading?

AB: About ten different research books for my new novel.  I find it difficult to read fiction while writing it—or more accurately, to read novels while I’m trying to shape one in my mind.  The last book I read that had nothing to do with my current project was Greetings from the Salton Sea: Folly and Intervention in the Southern California Landscape, 1905-2005 by Kim Stringfellow, a choice that was precipitated by a trip my wife and I made last month to the Southern California desert.  There’s a post-apocalyptic vibe to the Salton Sea (and to the photos in Ms. Stringfellow’s fine book) that also sent me dipping back into J.G. Ballard’s short story collection Memories of the Space Age, which has a similar ruined-retro-future feel to it.  And I confess, after that visit I also had the idea of someday writing something set at the Sea…so I suppose nothing is truly ever just “recreational reading” for a writer!