Catching up on the classics

I spent most of the summer reading science fiction and fantasy. I read the entire Thursday Next series: "The Eyre Affair," "Thursday Next: First Among Sequels," "Lost in a Good Book," "The Well of Lost Plots" and "Something Rotten." (They're all available from the library.) They are literary-geek, time-travel-twisty, science-fictiony fun.

I also read (on my niece's recommendation) "The Hunger Games." It's a YA book, a quick read and a lot of fun. Then I read "Small Favors," a Dresden Files book (I do love my Harry Dresden). Which, in case you don't know, are kind of noir detective novels with a wizard as a private investigator -- more geeky fun.

So, after all that geekery, I figured I should build up my brain with some classics. Over the weekend I read "Animal Farm" and finished "Jane Eyre." I do hate to admit to never having read "Jane Eyre" before but I have a good excuse. I always mixed it up with Jane Austen and I really don't care for Austen. OK. Not a good excuse, but it's an excuse.

I also downloaded some classics for the Kindle app on my iPod touch (there are a lot of classics available for the Kindle free from Amazon): "The Age of Innocence," "The Wizard of Oz," "Howard's End" and "Middlemarch." What I really like about the Kindle app is I can just sort of keep those books laying around, but they don't take up much space, I can take them all wherever I go, and -- best of all -- they were free.

To cap off the weekend, I watched a couple episodes of "The Angry Beavers" on Netflix. That's a classic, right?

I hate cooking

But Mom tried to get me to like it. One of the things that made me want to cook was this book:Published in 1965, the book was around before I was, so Mom must have bought it for my older brothers. And it was marketed to both girls and boys, which seems pretty progressive for 1965. The book sits on my shelf now. I brought it from Mom's house for the nostalgia -- and because it's actually kinda fun.

The "Bunny Salad" (made with pear "bunnies") was my favorite recipe. I honestly can't remember actually making it, but look how cute.

And pay no attention to that "Rocket Salad" in the upper right-hand corner. I never noticed it as a kid but my (perverted) adult mind doesn't exactly see a "rocket" there.

Bonus:
I just found this cookbook, tucked inside the kids' cookbook: It's Betty Crocker's "Piggy Bank Casseroles; A Special Collection of Penny-Wise Recipes," copyright 1970. Betty writes, "Dear Friend, Feeling the squeeze from the high cost of feeding a family? (Who isn't these days!)"

Betty Crocker has always been relevant, hasn't she. With recipes like Bologna Biscuits with Vegetable, Frank-Bean Casserole and Bean and Wiener Bake (yep, two beans and wienie recipes!), she'll show you how to save money, because "Whatever the reason, when your budget cries 'Help,' it's casseroles to the rescue."

A very Basic book

In the vein of Awful Library Books, I bring you Donated Books Are Hilarious.

Our tutoring program accepts donations for our "trade books" -- little libraries of books kids can take home, read, then bring back to trade for another book. Using donated books means we don't have to worry if the books never make it back to our "library." We've found there are kids who don't have shelves full of books at home -- some don't have any.

That said, I don't think we should try to pawn off crap books to these kids either. Sure, as long as they're reading, I don't care if it's comic books or the newspaper or classics. But yesterday I pulled a book from our trade books shelf that is only appropriate for one thing: Making adults laugh.

It's not that the book is naughty or inappropriate in any "adult" kind of way. It was written in 1985, and while plenty of books from that decade and earlier are still worth reading (I'm thinking Newberry Award winners and other classics), this book is nothing short of ridiculous. It was probably a bit silly in 1985.

I give you "The BASIC Book" by Seymour Simon.

"A computer will do what you want only if you give it exact, step-by-step instructions.
A step-by-step list of instruction for a computer to follow is called a program.
Programs have to be written in a 'language' computers understand.
There are many different computer languages. BASIC is on language most home computers understand."

Just imagine giving this book to a kid today. Check out the "computer" these kids are working on. Not only is it gigantic, it's all in one piece. It's possible some kids grandparent has one of these in the attic somewhere, but unless the kid is a huge fan of the movie "War Games," he probably doesn't know what it's for.

I brought it home to show the S.O. He's kind of a computer geek, you know. I even offered to let a friend take it for her computer class at college. I thought maybe she could get extra credit.

It's a bit of a precursor for text messages. The kids surprise Adam with a birthday message on the computer -- at a party they're all attending together. And Adam writes a program to thank them all.

"Then Adam types RUN and presses the RETURN key. What do you think everyone sees on the screen?

RUN
HELLO, EVERYONE!
THIS IS YOUR FRIEND ADAM
MAKING A COMPUTER TELL YOU
SOMETHING IMPORTANT.
WHAT A GREAT BIRTHDAY!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THANK YOU!
THAT'S ONE THANK YOU
FOR EACH FRIEND."

The very best part? On the back is a message from the publisher. The first sentence says it all:

"Children want to be up-to-date."

I don't think this is the book for them.

What I read: "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant

I really want to tell you something about "The Red Tent" by Anita Diamant, but I can't seem to think of anything of substance to say about it. I read this book like you would devour an entire bag of potato chips while watching a cheesy movie on the SciFi channel. You're full and you're entertained but you don't have a whole lot to show for it (except greasy fingers).

I didn't get greasy fingers reading "The Red Tent" and, although it was a page turner, I didn't really come away with anything meaningful.

My good friend Lisa told me that when this book first came out about 10 years ago, many women's bible study groups read this book. And while the book uses some characters from the bible -- the main character is a minor player in the Old Testament -- I don't think this is really a book for Christians. Many of the men worship "the God of Isaac and Abram," but the women worship their household gods, the river goddess and others.

Of course, I'm not much of a bible scholar. Mention Goliath and I'm picturing a talking claymation dog. As for the Egyptian gods, I'm probably imagining the system lords from Stargate SG-1. So, I guess I'm a poor judge of what constitutes bible study.

I go back and forth as to whether the book is all about female empowerment or just a study in how women have been controlled. Some women are very powerful, while others are naked slave girls. And all have husbands, fathers or brothers to answer to.

The book made me happy and angry in turns, so I suppose it's more powerful than I am giving it credit for. Then again, it has enough "drama" to be a soap opera. I think if I look at this book as a fun read for a snowy weekend, I really like it. If I try to look at it as a serious study of female empowerment, I don't care for it as much.

What I read: "The Amazing Advertures of Kavalier & Clay" by Michael Chabon

Despite my aversion to overdue library books -- instilled in me by the librarian of my elementary school (who I loved and admired) -- I took me longer than the allotted three weeks to read and digest "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay."

I was prepared for a boyish romp through comicbookland. A buddy movie wrapped up in a Pulitzer Prize-winning package. What I got was a love story -- love of family, love of art, romantic love, love lost and found and true, deep, abiding friendship -- heart wrenching and heartwarming all at the same time.

"Late that night, Rosa and her father helped Joe from the taxi to the curb and thence along the narrow lane up to the steps of the Harkoo house. His arms were draped across their shoulders and his feet seemed to glide two inches off the ground. He had not touched a drop all night, on orders from the emergency-room doctor at Mt. Sinai, but the morphine painkillers he had been given had finally taken their toll. Of that journey from the taxi to the curb, Joe was later to retain only the faint pleasant memory of Siggy Saks's kolnischwasser smell and of the coolness of Rosa's shoulder against his own abraded cheek. They dragged him up to the study and laid him out on the couch. Rosa unlaced his shoes, unbuttoned his trousers, helped him off with his shirt. She kissed his forehead, his cheeks, his chest, his belly, pulled a blanket up to his chin and then kissed his lips. Rosa's father brushed Joe's hair back from his bandaged brow with a soft motherly hand. Then there was darkness and the sound of their voices draining out of the room."

Joe's story is both tragic and heroic, as are the stories of Rosa and Sammy. They're punished for loving too much or the wrong person. They struggle to live ordinary lives while dreaming of extraordinary things. Art and writing -- albeit in the form of comic books -- sustain them, give them hope and allow them to escape this world.

"Having lost his mother, father, brother, and grandfather, the friends and foes of his youth, his beloved teacher Bernard Kornblum, his city, his history -- his home -- the usual charge leveled against comic books, that they offered merely an easy escape from reality, seemed to Joe actually to be a powerful argument on their behalf."

And who couldn't use an escape from reality now and then?

What I read: "The Beast in the Garden" by David Baron

I read "The Beast in the Garden: A Modern Parable of Man and Nature" by David Baron for a book club I was recently invited to join. It's not a book I would typically read -- I gravitate toward fiction almost exclusively. It was a difficult read. Although the book is only 240 pages long, I took almost two weeks to get through it.

It's difficult in part because the subject matter hits close to home -- quite literally. The book tells the story of Boulder residents in the late 1980s who are besieged by hungry mountain lions -- mountain lions who have become so bold as to grab pets from enclosed pens and off of decks. The tale culminates with the killing of an 18-year-old man by a mountain lion.

The book covers the history of the founding and taming of the Front Range, then goes on to explain the conflicts between the wild world and civilization, between the Old West and the New West. Boulderites suffered inner conflicts over living with wildlife. There are sacrifices to be made in keeping the wilderness wild, and the book makes a good show of covering both sides.

The author obviously cares about nature and mountain lions, and I don't have a problem with that. We moved into the lions' space, removed their natural predators (wolves), encouraged their natural prey (deer) and allowed them to get used to having us around. It's an interesting subject, combined with a rich history of the state of Colorado. However, Baron's almost clinical descriptions of dogs being eaten and humans being stalked and attacked left me cold.

What I watched: Tear jerker edition

An evening with the TV all to myself and I watched "Bridge to Terabithia" because I am apparently a glutton for punishment. I read the book as a kid but somehow only remember that I loved it, and it was the first book that made me cry. That last part is important, because how did I think the first book to ever make me cry would not produce a movie that would make me cry?

I can't even tell you if the movie was any good because the kids in it were so damn cute and the stupid movie made. me. cry. I pride myself on having a stiff upper lip when it comes to movies (books not so much -- "Cold Mountain" and "The Time Traveler's Wife" made me weep openly). I think because I don't like people seeing me cry (books are more private, thus the waterworks).

It's a kids' movie for goodness sake. And it was a kids' book. What the heck was Disney thinking? What the heck was Katherine Paterson thinking? They had to have known that I would find myself alone with my television on a Thursday night watching this movie and falling in love with its characters. They had to know that I loved this book as a kid and my nostalgia and my (somewhat morbid) sense of curiosity would make me watch it and that being alone when I did, I would cry.

I just have to remember to not watch movies like this alone. Had I watched it with someone else I might be able to offer a coherent critique rather than a rambling about how the movie was sweet and sad. Did I mention it made me cry?

What I read: "Summerland" by Michael Chabon

I began reading "Summerland" without knowing much more about it than the fact that its author, Michael Chabon, is the Pulitzer Prize-winning author of "The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier & Clay." I've been meaning to read that book but can't seem to get it at the library (must remember to request a hold). I picked up "Summerland" because it looked interesting and I'd heard good things about Chabon.

The book is a fantasy -- with giants, fairies and magical moments -- based around the game of baseball. I'm not a huge baseball fan, but was enjoying the story when I got to page 83 (of the hardback edition). A character disagrees with the umpire's call.

"You are blind as a bat, Brody" he was saying. "Always have been! Wandering around half blind in that drugstore, it's a wonder you ain't given rat poison to some poor kid with asthma! How can you say the girl's out when anybody with half an eyeball could see she had it beat by a mile?"

"She stumbled, Albert," Mr. Brody said, his voice a little more controlled than Albert's. But just a little. The two men were standing with their faces less than a foot apart.

"Forget you!" Albert said. "Man, forget you! You are worse than blind, you're stupid!"

It's not as if I need people to use the F word in books I read, but there was something really odd about that last piece of dialogue. "Forget you"? Who talks that way? So, I looked a little closer at the book's dust jacket. There it is, at the very bottom of the inside back cover: Hyperion Books for Children. Oh. I see. Trust me, this book was in the fiction section of the public library -- the regular fiction section. Not the kids' section. Not even the teen shelf (where they did file "The Book Thief," which seems less like a children's book than this one). Now, I don't normally seek out children's books to read. Ok, true, I may have read the entire Harry Potter series (twice) but I don't usually read kids' books for my own enjoyment.

Then again, I did enjoy "Summerland." From an adult perspective, it was light and fun. The team of good guys -- made up of two human (or "reuben") children, a changeling, a giant, a Sasquach, a washed up major league outfielder, a wererat and a fairy(or "ferisher") -- have to defeat the bad guys at a game of baseball to save the world. It has much of what you'd find in this type of book: a young hero and heroine, an absent parent, a journey, a quest, an epic battle (albeit baseball) between good and evil. Adults may find it formulaic, while kids may find it exciting or even scary at times. It was a bit of escape for me. And in this time of economic woes, why the heck not?

When they saw the miraculous ball field that had swirled into existence at their doorstep, the ferishers of Dandelion Hill threw down their tennis rackets and croquet mallets, and left behind the scarred gray patch in the grass where their old field had lain. They dived into the thick, new grass, and swam in it like water, and rolled over onto their back, and floated on it, and sighed.

What I read: "The Falls" by Joyce Carol Oates

It's true. I have to admit it now. I definitely have a thing for Joyce Carol Oates. In the past year, I have read three of her books ("The Gravedigger's Daughter," "Missing Mom" and now, "The Falls"). They're all pretty heavy books -- love, dysfunctional families, tragedy. But Oates weaves her sad tales with beautiful images and intriguing characters. There are characters to hate, to love, to love to hate and to hate to love. But there are very few characters you can feel ambivalent about.

"The Falls" begins in June 1950 and spans the next 28 years of the life of Ariah Littrell, who becomes Ariah Erskine, then Ariah Littrell again and Ariah Burnaby in short order. I don't want to give too much away, but this is an Oates book, so you know there will be joy and pain right from the start.

Set in Niagara Falls, New York, "The Falls" paints a picture of the city, from its tourist sites to the infamous Love Canal. "Love Canal" -- words I remember vaguely growing up, words then-president Carter talked about. I'm embarrassed to say I had to look up more information about the controversy while reading this book. (You can find some information here, here and here. And there's plenty more information out there.) The lives of people suffering illness due to toxic dumping melds with the Burnaby family, which suffers its own toxicity.

I think Oates may be a bit of an acquired taste, as I've said, she deals in tragedy and dysfunction. But I have definitely acquired the taste. I have a hard time putting down her books and seek out new ones and old ones I've yet to read.

What I read: "Watchmen" by Alan Moore and Dave Gibbons

I finished reading "Watchmen" last week and have been putting off writing about it, because, frankly I'm not sure what to say about it. With all the buzz surrounding the upcoming movie based on this graphic novel and the fact that TIME Magazine has named it one of the 100 best English-language novels since 1923, I'm a bit intimidated to say anything negative about it.

I should start by saying this is the first graphic novel I've ever read. And yes, I'm a bit of a snob about it. I don't think a graphic novel should be classified as a "novel" on a list of best novels. I don't think it's fair. Regardless of how great the graphic novel is, I feel like it's a bit of a cheat -- if a picture is worth a thousand words, how many words did this author not have to write to tell this story?

That said, I didn't hate "Watchmen." I found it intriguing and the characters likable and unlikable in turns. Good and evil are not black and white, and there are some funny moments, some scary moments and nail-biting moments.

On the other hand, I can't say I would put this book on par with titles like "1984," "One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest," "The Great Gatsby," "Beloved" and "The Grapes of Wrath." I think the editors of TIME Magazine might have wanted to show how cool they are by including a graphic novel.

I'm not sure if I would have included "Are You There God? It's me, Margaret" either. I always preferred "Tales of a Fourth-Grade Nothing."

Check out TIME Magazine's full list here.

(And no, I haven't read every book on the list.)

What I read: "Water for Elephants" by Sara Gruen

Perhaps I was taken in by the subject matter or maybe it's because I finished this book on a cold snowy day when I was feeling pretty crappy. Whatever the reason, while I normally seem to have a similar taste in books as my friend Kate, on this occasion, I'm going to have to disagree with her.

I once fell inexplicably in love with someone based solely on his love for horses. And although I've never imagined running away to join the circus, there was that one summer when I dreamed of running off with the rodeo.

So, I do think I was drawn in by the subject matter and the romantic nature of the circus and the characters involved. And maybe the writing itself isn't deserving of gushing praise, but I really liked this book -- in an escapist, love-at-first-sight-even-if-it's-wrong, completely-lost-in-the-moment kind of way.

I'm sure Kate's assessment of the lack of character development is correct, but I still liked the characters. I especially cared about Walter, Queenie, Bobo and Rosie -- not to mention the main characters, who I didn't see as completely "good." They made dumb decisions and were lucky enough to have them turn out OK in the end.

Yes, in the end everything does get wrapped up in a too-neat little package. But that's part of why I thoroughly enjoyed the book. As I've admitted, maybe it's just my state of mind today and the snow falling outside the window and maybe I'll come back to this book at a later day and scoff at my own critique.

But not today. Today I'm awash in the warm glow of cotton candy, sawdust and the receding sound of the circus calliope.

What I read: "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak

Recommended to me by several people, "The Book Thief" by Markus Zusak ranks among the best books I've read this year. I had put the book on hold at the library and waited a couple weeks, even though the library's Web site showed several available. When I went to look again, I found that the library keeps this book on the teen shelf. Thinking I wasn't in the mood for a "teen" book, I almost skipped it.

But at a Christmas party, my friend loaned me her copy -- practically forcing it into my hands. Thank goodness she did.

"The Book Thief" was nearly impossible to put down. It's one of those books you can't stop reading, can't wait to see what happens next, yet hope never ends. Finishing the book, I found myself wanting to turn back to page one and start over.

Like the characters in his book, Zusak paints vivid images with his words.

"Their glasses chimed together and the moment Liesel raised it to her mouth, she was bitten by the fizzy, sickly sweet taste of champagne. Her reflexes forced her to spit straight onto her papa's overalls, watching it foam and dribble. A shot of laughter followed from all of them, and Hans encouraged her to give it another try. On the second attempt she was able to swallow it, and enjoy the taste of a glorious broken rule. It felt great. The bubbles ate her tongue. They prickled her stomach. Even as they walked to the next job, she could feel the warmth of pins and needles inside her."

Himmel Street and its inhabitants come to life, struggling with each other, what's happening in the world around them and their own inner demons. I knew little about the book before I read it and I don't want to say too much about the plot or the characters because it was such a joy for me to discover them on my own. I hope you can do the same.

What I read: "Dreams from My Father" by Barack Obama

Our president-elect wrote "Dreams from My Father" back in 1995, shortly after he was elected the first black president of the Harvard Law Review. You can see why I thought this book would be relevant now. Not that everything (or even most of what) I read is relevant.

"Dreams from My Father" is an ambitious book, written by an ambitious young man. And it may have been a bit too ambitious for Obama so early in his career. As he says himself in the Preface to the 2004 edition:

I confess to wincing every so often at a poorly chosen word, a mangled sentence, an expression of emotion that seems indulgent or overly practiced. I have the urge to cut the book by fifty pages or so, possessed as I am with a keener appreciation for brevity.

That said, the book is filled with beautiful images of Obama's childhood in Hawaii and his visit to family in Kenya, as well as a youthful angst based on a search for identity.

Raised by a white mother and grandparents, young Barack never quite fit in. I'm sure we all experience something like that as children, but I can only imagine how hard it would be when you don't even resemble your own family.

Although the book is a bit self-indulgent (and really, what memoir isn't) it's an intimate look at a man with no idea he would one day become one of the most powerful people in the world.

While working in Chicago as a community organizer -- a phrase that was spit out like curse words during the recent campaign -- Obama tried to mentor a friend's teenage son.

I asked him if he was still thinking about the air force, and he shook his head; he'd stay in Chicago, he said, find a job and get his own place. I asked him what had changed his mind. He said that the air force would never let a black man fly a plane.

I looked at him crossly. "Who told you that mess?"

Kyle shrugged. "Don't need somebody to tell me that. Just is, that's all."

"Man, that's the wrong attitude. You can do whatever you want if you're willing to work for it."

Many passages moved me, because hindsight is 20/20, and one slight change in Obama's past would have lead him down a very different path. We've yet to see what kind of president he will be, but this book gives insight into the kind of man he is.

I was especially moved by the tribute to his mother (from the preface to the 2004 edition):

I think sometimes that had I known she would not survive her illness, I might have written a different book--less a meditation on the absent parent, more a celebration of the one who was the single constant in my life. In my daughters, I see her every day, her joy, her capacity for wonder. I won't try to describe how deeply I mourn her passing still. I know that she was the kindest, most generous spirit I have ever known, and that what is best in me I owe to her.

You have to respect a man who loves his momma.

The real reason I have short hair

From "The Zombie Survival Guide" by Max Brooks:

The simple fact is that ghouls attack by reaching out to grab their victims, pulling them in, then biting. Logic dictates that the less material a person offers up for grabs, the better his or her chances will be. Baggy clothing, complete with pockets, straps, or anything that might hang freely, will be a convenient handle for grasping zombie claws. Anyone who has worked in factories or with some kind of heavy machinery will tell you the importance of never letting anything hang loose. Tight clothing, obviously within comfort limits, will help to eliminate this danger. Hair can be a similar hazard. Many times, victims have been seized and even dragged by their hair to a gruesome end. Tying one's hair back before a conflict may work temporarily. However, a short haircut, one inch or short, is ideal for hand-to-hand combat.

True, I think my short 'do makes me look younger and suits my face better and it's easier to care for, and my hair is naturally curly/wavy and has a tendency toward frizz when it reaches a certain length, and I have an awesome hair stylist. None of those reasons are the real reason for my short hair. It's not about fashion, it's all about survival, people.

If you're a Max Brooks fan -- and who didn't love "World War Z" -- he's at it again. "Those who don't learn from zombie history are condemned to repeat it."

The more you know.

What I read: "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck

I know I had to have read "The Grapes of Wrath" at some point in high school, but all I could remember about it was the daughter named Rose of Sharon and the fact that the Joads had to leave Oklahoma. I must have read the book at a point in my life when I thought times would never be tough, or perhaps I really just disliked my teacher at the time and projected that onto this book. Whatever the reason, I didn't remember much about this book, and that's a shame.

I can't believe I didn't remember Steinbeck's poetic prose:

In the middle of that night the wind passed on and left the land quiet. The dust-filled air muffled sound more completely than fog does. The people, lying in their beds, heard the wind stop. They awakened when the rushing wind was gone. They lay quietly and listened deep into the stillness. Then the roosters crowed, and their voices were muffled, and the people stirred restlessly in their beds and wanted the morning. They knew it would take a long time for the dust to settle out of the air. In the morning the dust hung like fog, and the sun was as red as ripe new blood. All day the dust sifted down from the sky, and the next day it sifted down. An even blanket covered the earth. It settled on the corn, piled up on the tops of the fence posts, piled up on the wires; it settled on roofs, blanketed the weeds and trees.

Or the strength and courage of a family plagued by misfortune and tragedy:

Ma looked down at her hands, lying together like tired lovers in her lap. "I wisht i could wait an' not tell you. I wisht it could be all--nice."
Pa said, "Then Granma's bad."
Ma raised her eyes and looked over the valley. "Granma's dead."
They looked at her, all of them, and Pa asked, "When?"
"Before they stopped us las' night."
"So that's why you didn' want 'em to look."
"I was afraid we wouldn' get acrost," she said. "I tol' Granma we couldn' he'p her. The fambly had ta get acrost. I tol' her, tol' her when she was a-dyin'. We couldn' stop in the desert. there was the young ones--an' Rosasharn's baby. I tol' her." She put up her hands and covered her face for a moment. "She can get buried in a nice green place," Ma said softly. "Trees aroun' an' a nice place. She got to lay her head down in California."
The family looked at Ma with a little terror at her strength.

I feel like I just read this book for the first time. It got under my skin. I dreamed about it. I thought about how we would handle such desperate times. Despite today's economic climate, it's hard to imagine having to live the way the Joads did -- 14 people traveling in a truck made by cutting away the back of a sedan, sleeping under a tarp, eating little more than fried bread and black coffee. It often occurred to me the reason this book was so sharply opposed when it was first published.

A kind of insurance developed in these nights. A man with food fed a hungry man, and thus insured himself against hunger. And when a baby died a pile of silver coins grew at a door flap, for a baby must be well buried, since it has had nothing else of life.

Talk of unions and strikes and even a kind of socialism, disguised as helping those less fortunate must have scared the haves and stirred the have-nots.

The great companies did not know that the line between hunder and anger is a thin line. and money that might have gone to wages went for gas, for guns, for agents and spies, for blacklists, for drilling. On the highways the people moved like ants and searched for work, for food. and the anger began to forment.

Above all "The Grapes of Wrath" is beautifully written and worth reading or re-reading.

It was featured in this year's All Pikes Peak Reads, but I was late in reading it and getting in on discussions. I see it as a timely selection.

Four books I want to read by the end of the year

I know I'm being overly optimistic thinking I can get through these. But I'm going to give it a shot.

1. "The Grapes of Wrath" by John Steinbeck
I'm halfway through this one, but it goes on the list because I have to finish it.
2. "Dreams From My Father" by Barack Obama
I want to know more about our next president.
3. "The Audacity of Hope" by Barack Obama
Ok, I want to know a lot more. And I got a discount at Amazon.com for ordering them together.
4. "The Omnivore's Dilemma" by Michael Polan
I started this but haven't finished it. It's not much fun. But I feel it's "important" to read. This is the one book I'm not sure I'll get through. But I'll give it another shot because it comes highly recommended by two different friends.

I can get through these books if I sit down and read, rather than let myself get distracted by what's on TV or some stupid computer game. I do have other things I have to get done (besides TV and computer games) so unfortunately, I can't just sit and read all day. I would if I could.

Blind hope

When I first saw the trailer for the movie "Blindness" I got goosebumps. I loved this book when I read it way back when, right after it won the Nobel Prize for Fiction. But then I remembered what Hollywood did to other books I loved. "All The Pretty Horses" was the worst. The movie practically ruined the book for me. Luckily, I was able to put the movie out of my mind. (I just pretend it never happened.)

Written by Jose Saramago, it was translated from Portuguese. Even though the hardbound copy is only 293 pages long, the book took me a long time to get through. Saramago can be difficult to read. He doesn't signify dialogue with quotation marks, and punctuation is sort of random, so everything kind of flows together. But even now, just rifling through the pages of my copy, I'm drawn to read passages again.

"What are you thinking of, asked the girl with dark glasses, worried when she heard the snipping of the scissors cutting off her hair, If your parents were to return, they would find hanging from the door handle a lock of hair, who else could it possibly belong to but their daughter, asked the doctor's wife, You make me want to weep, said the girl with the dark glasses, and she had no sooner said it, than she lowered her head over the folded arms on her knees and gave in to her sorrows, her sadness, to the emotions aroused by the suggestion made by the doctor's wife, then she noticed, without knowing by what emotional route she had arrived there, that she was also crying for the old woman on the first floor, the eater of raw meat, the horrible witch, who with her dead hand had restored to her the keys to the flat."

Because of the difficulty of the material, and because it's so good, I really worry what Hollywood is going to do with this story. The book isn't a horror story in that it isn't about ghosts or monsters, but it is terrifying, like any apocalyptic book, in its study of human nature. In the trailer, it looks like the movie makers captured the starkness and desperation of the book. I only hope they can keep that desperation as quiet and meaningful as Saramago did.

The trailer looks good. You can watch it here.

I will see the movie. I will try not to get my hopes up. Oh, too late.

What I read: "Independence Day" by Richard Ford

Richard Ford's "Independence Day" won the 1996 Pulitzer Prize for Fiction. It reminded me a lot of John Updike's "Rabbit Is Rich," without the loathsome characters. (Updike won the Pulitzer in 1982 for that book and again in 1991 for "Rabbit At Rest.") The book tells the story of Frank Bascombe's Independence Day weekend. Bascombe, once a short story and sports writer, is now a real estate agent. Divorced and living in what he calls his "existence period," Bascombe goes through the motions of showing houses to a difficult couple, deciding whether or not to end a lukewarm relationship and trying to get to the heart of the matter with his troubled teenage son.

Both books tell a story of the Everyman and a slice of his life. Angstrom is a car salesman. Bascombe is a real estate agent. Both have troubled sons. Angstrom has a seemingly troubled marriage, while Bascombe marriage is over. While Bascombe bears a resemblance to "Rabbit" Angstrom, he's more self-aware and likable. That might also come from "Independence Day" being written in the first person.

The books share a certain tone of despair and hope. The characters seem to despair when things look most hopeful and are most hopeful when all seems lost. But, while I struggled to get through "Rabbit is Rich" or even care about one character in the book, I relished "Independence Day" and found myself hoping for the best for everyone.

It's not an exciting book. You won't find car chases or shoot outs. Although, there is a tense scene involving a batting cage. It's a fairly quiet book, with vivid descriptions of New Jersey towns and the countryside. I finished reading the book last week, and although it has stuck with me, I found I didn't have much to say about it. I suppose that can be said about my own life at times.

What I read: "A Thousand Splendid Suns" by Khaled Hosseini

I have yet to read "The Kite Runner" by Khaled Hosseini. It's on my reading list. I've almost bought it at Starbucks a few times. I look for it at the library, but it seems to be too popular to stay on the shelf, and there's always something else on my list.

"A Thousand Splendid Suns" wasn't on my list, but when I went to look -- once again -- for "The Kite Runner," several copies of this book sat on the shelf. I picked it up, thinking I'd give Hosseini a chance with his second book.

I'm really glad I did. "A Thousand Splendid Suns" is one of the most heart-wrenching books I've read in a long time. It was almost painful to read at times, yet I found myself unable to put it down. The two main characters -- Mariam and Laila -- are so compelling, so tragic, but still so courageous and filled with hope even in the face of hopelessness, I couldn't wait to see what happened to them. And then I didn't want it to end.

Set against the backdrop of Afghanistan through the rise and fall of the Soviet Union to the horrors of civil wars and the Taliban, "A Thousand Splendid Suns" manages to be filled with both hope and despair, beauty and horror. Anyone who has ever believed they wouldn't tolerate the kind of treatment Afghan women endure will come to see that they would tolerate it. Both Mariam and Laila have little choice as to whether they will put up with being beaten, being told when and where they can go out, wearing a burqa or being given away in marriage to a man more than twice their age or marrying a man who already has a wife. In Laila's case, her husband is old enough to be her grandfather. But circumstances don't really allow these women another option.

Despite the raids, the bombings, the beatings, the women experience moments of pure splendor:

"Outside mockingbirds were singing blithely, and once in a while, when the songsters took flight, Mariam could see their wings catching the phosphorescent blue of moonlight beaming through the clouds. And though her throat was parched with thirst and her feet burned with pins and needles, it was a long time before Mariam gently freed her finger from the baby's grip and got up."

Khaled Hosseini was born in Kabul, Afghanistan, but moved to the United States in 1980. Still, he manages to capture what I can only imagine it must be like to be a woman in Afghanistan. Despite the struggles, the losses, the absolute terror of living in a worn-torn land, life -- somehow -- goes on. They still love and find beauty in their country and each other.

What I read: "A Prayer for Owen Meany" by John Irving

Owen Meany is strange. And my experience reading about him was strange. At one point the narrator talks about a class reading stories by Alice Munro. During my last trip to the library I checked out "A Prayer for Owen Meany" and a book of short stories called "Runaway" by Alice Munro. I thought that was a small strange coincidence. "A Prayer For Owen Meany" culminates in a flashback to July 8, 1968. I just happened to finish reading the book on July 8, 2008.

I know those are just coincidences, but what makes it strange is that the book itself is about coincidences and miracles. Irving creates his typical quirky characters and makes us care about them. "A Prayer for Owen Meany" tells a tale of love, friendship and courage. Owen, who never grows to more than 5 feet tall and retains a child's voice throughout his life, teaches others how to overcome adversity despite his own problems.

The book is funny and touching and at times profound. Some may find the characters over the top (it's what Irving does -- see "The World According to Garp"). But that's what I like about it. The characters are eccentric or flamboyant or boisterous or evil in their way. You love them or hate them, but you care about them and what happens to them next.

There's even a bit of a history lesson in the novel, as we learn how many American troops were in Vietnam on a given New Year's Eve and how many had died. The book also gives us some history of the Iran-Contra scandal. It's interesting to compare those times to what's happening in our world today.

In his introduction to the 2002 edition of the novel, Irving says, "I may one day write a better first sentence to a novel than that of 'A Prayer for Owen Meany,' but I doubt it."

It's a long sentence and it opens the book with a bang:
"I am doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice -- not because of his voice, or because he was the smallest person I ever knew, or even because he was the instrument of my mother's death, but because he is the reason I believe in God; I am a Christian because of Owen Meany."

The book hasn't converted me or made me believe in miracles -- I'm too much of a skeptic -- but it was a strange experience. And I, too, am "doomed to remember a boy with a wrecked voice."