OK. Obviously not a book for everyone. But if I had to choose one statistics book to take with me on a desert island, this would be the one. (And I'veOK. Obviously not a book for everyone. But if I had to choose one statistics book to take with me on a desert island, this would be the one. (And I've co-authored a statistics book).
Deservedly recognized as a classic. One of the high points of my (professional) life was when I attended a Gordon conference in New Hampshire back in 1984, I got to swim in the same swimming hole with all three authors of this book. Sadly, Bill Hunter died not too long thereafter....more
David Foster Wallace is one awesomely smart guy. This is both his greatest strength and his potential Achilles heel as a writer. Personally, I will reDavid Foster Wallace is one awesomely smart guy. This is both his greatest strength and his potential Achilles heel as a writer. Personally, I will read anything this man writes, because I think he is a true genius with a rare sense of compassion, and a hilarious sense of humor. Even when his writing falls victim to its own cleverness, I still find it worthwhile - perhaps because one senses that the writer is a true mensch (not something I feel when being dazzled by the cleverness of a Dave Eggers, for instance).
Oh hell, I want to be seated next to DFW on a long transpacific flight subject to major delays, OK? I have an enormous intellectual crush on this man. And when I cavil, it is done out of love, pure and simple.
But when discussing this book of his, caviling would simply be out of place. It contains two of the funniest essays I have ever read in my life (the descriptions of his experiences on a cruise liner and at the state fair, respectively). I think you should buy your own copy, because I certainly am not going to loan you mine.
Added on edit: so, I've noticed that goodreads seems to order books listed by review according to the wordcount of the reviews in question, from longest to shortest. A result of this has been that my negative review of DFW's ill-starred "Everything and More" shows up ahead of my 5-star review of this collection. This pains me enormously, as I really admire this writer's prodigious talent immensely - even his occasional misfires beat the pants off many a less talented author's best efforts. So I am shamelessly adding this paragraph in a transparent effort to game the system - the desired result being that my positive review of this quirky, talented author show up before the negative review.
I am guessing that the preceding paragraph will have been sufficient to accomplish my devious ends, so will curtail my empty babbling here. Let's see if I'm right in this conjecture....more
This charming collection of essays is a real favorite of mine. Over the years I must have given close to a dozen copies as gifts. Anyone who is an aviThis charming collection of essays is a real favorite of mine. Over the years I must have given close to a dozen copies as gifts. Anyone who is an avid reader will enjoy these essays....more
My yardstick for excellent writing about a foreign culture is probably Paul Scott's "The Raj Quartet", which was the basis for the BBC TV series "The My yardstick for excellent writing about a foreign culture is probably Paul Scott's "The Raj Quartet", which was the basis for the BBC TV series "The Jewel in the Crown". I think these four books are a real tour de force - he writes in several different voices throughout, but remains - I think - completely sensitive to the political and social complexities and subtleties of the situation in India towards the end of the British occupation. Very nuanced, extraordinarily sensitive writing.
Only space on the shelf considerations prevents me from including all four of the quartet on my top 20 shelf (which is now full, and may eventually need to be expanded to 25). Though I do think, if I had to make a judgement that books 1 and 3 in the quartet slightly outrank the other two. But, overall, if you find yourself with time on your hands (even if you don't), the "Raj Quartet" is a wonderful world in which to lose yourself for a couple of weeks.
Then check out the BBC series on DVD and marvel at just how perfect the adaptation is. A true pleasure. ...more
Immunology is hard. Dr Sompayrac is wonderful. Read this book, if you have even the remotest interest in how your body defends itself in a hostile worImmunology is hard. Dr Sompayrac is wonderful. Read this book, if you have even the remotest interest in how your body defends itself in a hostile world.
You could read it in a weekend. You will be a better, more interesting person, if you so.
Or you could watch Seinfeld re-runs and add that amount to your time in purgatory.
God, I love this book! Where else are you going to find a fascinating exegesis of the use of slang in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a discussion of the spGod, I love this book! Where else are you going to find a fascinating exegesis of the use of slang in Buffy the Vampire Slayer, a discussion of the specific nuances of language within the S/M community, and a discussion of dirty words down the centuries in a single volume? Buy a copy for yourself and several more for your friends who like to explore the back alleys of language....more
This book made me weep when I first read it as a teenager. The sadness of the characters was so overwhelming. But I loved the writing, and the book stThis book made me weep when I first read it as a teenager. The sadness of the characters was so overwhelming. But I loved the writing, and the book stayed with me. When I read it again a few years ago, it still packed an emotional punch. And somehow, for all the sadness in the book, I don't find it in the least bit depressing. Maybe it's the ability of McCullers's writing to remind the reader of the redemptive power of storytelling....more
A wonderful book. Paul Auster's involvement almost makes me want to give him a second chance. But then I remember how pointlessly depressing "The MusiA wonderful book. Paul Auster's involvement almost makes me want to give him a second chance. But then I remember how pointlessly depressing "The Music of Chance" was, and I remind myself that time is valuable....more
Mary Renault is one of those authors for whom I was tempted to give 5 stars to all of her books, because I enjoyed them so much. But in the interests Mary Renault is one of those authors for whom I was tempted to give 5 stars to all of her books, because I enjoyed them so much. But in the interests of maintaining standards (Hi Betsy!), I will give 5 stars to "The Charioteer", a book probably 50 years ahead of its time, but go ahead and recommend all of her historical fiction anyway. With perhaps "The Mask of Apollo" and "The King must Die" being my favorites among her remaining books....more
Quite simply the funniest book I have ever read in my life. Written as a series of letters; as the correspondence mounts, the overall message becomes Quite simply the funniest book I have ever read in my life. Written as a series of letters; as the correspondence mounts, the overall message becomes hilariously clear. Never get between a man and his trees.
Starring Humphrey Mackevoy, a man who loves trees, maybe a little too much. The sudden epidemic of holes bored into local trees, all 33 inches from the ground at an angle of 15 degrees to the horizontal, has everyone in town buzzing. The authorities are outraged at such wanton vandalism, the police are on high alert, the ornithological society is ecstatic, believing that the fabulously rare crested woodpecker has returned to the British Isles. Humphrey is more concerned with occupational hazards like splinter wounds and the toxic effects of the new pesticide being sprayed on the trees.
What with the prison chaplain dedicated to making the Gospel more relevant by rewriting it as a Western (Posse from Galilee), assorted power-crazed local councillors, a sex-crazed sixteen-year-old girl desperate to get laid, and the ever-present Humphrey's Mummy, there is never a dull moment.
Given the spicy gumbo that the authors have concocted, rich with every hilarious village archetype you've ever come across, the tree-porn sections are lagniappe. A certain bewitching laburnum stirs Humphrey to flights of soft-porn eloquence:
"Lasciviously I turned my face, brushing the cold bark with my lips, and began to explore its texture with my tongue. And you couldn't stop me, my laburnum, you with your branches pinioned in the air, leaving your trunk so bare, so bare, so unprotected, so vulnerable..."
I would be happy to loan you my copy, if I hadn't sent it to a certain goodreads member MANY MONTHS AGO (she knows who she is).
Possibly the finest epistolary novel ever written.
This is where Shakespeare takes off the gloves. He brings us right to the edge of the abyss, then kicks us over that edge. King Lear is the most devasThis is where Shakespeare takes off the gloves. He brings us right to the edge of the abyss, then kicks us over that edge. King Lear is the most devastating by far of the Shakespeare tragedies -- this is a play which leaves the reader shattered as the curtain falls.
The play has a kind of primal power, which I find hard to explain. The plot is fairly typically Shakespeare, perhaps a little more complicated than usual, mixing elements taken from legend and from the historical record. At the outset, Lear is a narcissistic, bullying despot. His two older daughters, Regan and Goneril, are a couple of bad seed cougars, both of whom lust after Edmund, an equally amoral hyena. Their goody-two-shoes sister Cordelia behaves with such one-note pointless stubbornness, it almost seems like she's not playing with a full deck. Over in the Gloucester household, Edmund (the bastard hyena) is plotting against both his brother Edgar and his father. Lear’s court is filled with lickspittle sycophants. Only two people have the guts to speak truth to power, and one of them wears the costume of a Fool. There's a nasty storm brewing on the heath.
Fasten your seatbelts - it's going to be a bumpy ride.
Characters in “King Lear” pay dearly for their weaknesses. Gloucester is blinded in order that he might see, but is denied any lasting happiness; after reconciling with Edgar, he dies. Lear will be driven insane before he finally learns to empathize with the poor and the meek. We watch him return from the brink of madness only to discover that’s not enough. Before the curtain falls, Shakespeare gives us what is arguably the most brutal scene in his entire work.
Enter Lear with Cordelia (dead) in his arms –
Howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stone! Had I your tongues and eyes, I’d use them so That heavens vault should crack. She’s gone forever.
Even if, like me, you find Cordelia a saccharine, two-dimensional character*, this scene is shattering. Two pages later, after learning that his fool has hanged himself, Lear dies, broken-hearted. Edgar, Kent and Albany – literally the only characters still standing – are left to bury the dead and move on, as best they can.
Why do I find this the most affecting of Shakespeare’s plays? (I’ve seen seven different stage productions**, and two on TV, and it only gets more powerful upon repeated exposure.) I can’t really pin it down – it’s a combination of various elements. The characters are idiosyncratic, fully realised, and their behavior is highly relatable, so the play is convincing at the level of the individual protagonists. But the fable-like nature of the opening scene also confers a kind of universal quality to its message, and the themes explored within the play – abuse of power, relationships within families, responsibilities of parents and children, the breakdown of the natural order and its consequences, the human capacity for enormous cruelty – are no less relevant today than in Shakespeare’s time. The skillfully constructed parallel plotting of the Lear and Gloucester arcs adds to the power of the story, the breakdown in natural human behavior is further accentuated by the raw fury of the elements during the storm scenes, where Nature echoes Lear’s fury.
Ultimately, there’s no getting away from the uncompromising bleakness of the play’s message. In Gloucester’s words – “as flies to wanton boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport”. The nihilism of “King Lear” has always disturbed audiences, and it was common during the 18th and 19th centuries to stage an altered version, in which Cordelia was allowed to live, implying a more upbeat view of human nature. But, given what the events of the last century demonstrate about mankind’s vicious capacity for self-destruction, one has to think that Shakespeare got it right first time. As usual.
*: the character that Cordelia most reminds me of is the slave-girl, Liu, in Puccini’s “Turandot”. Neither is realised in any great depth, but each serves an important function in the way that their death effects a crucial change in one of the other protagonists.
**: including one particularly memorable performance in Mönchen-Gladbach, Germany, where Regan and Goneril were decked out like biker chicks and roared on stage riding what appeared to be Harleys.
In a field with some stiff competition (Liam O'Flaherty, Frank O'Connor, William Trevor), Seán O'Faoláin is the undisputed master of the Irish short sIn a field with some stiff competition (Liam O'Flaherty, Frank O'Connor, William Trevor), Seán O'Faoláin is the undisputed master of the Irish short story. Of course, that's just my opinion. But I strongly suggest that you see for yourself.
My two all-time favorite stories by O'Faoláin? "Dividends" and "Up the Bare Stairs". To be honest, I couldn't be fully sure if they are included in this particular collection or not. Be that as it may, if you buy this, or any other, collection of his stories, you won't regret it.
Many years ago, when I still lived in Ireland (so in the 1970's), RTE had a series adapting several of these stories for television. The series was masterfully done and did justice to the quality of the stories, no mean accomplishment....more
If you aren't already familiar with the short stories of Frank O' Connor, do yourself a favor, and buy this (relatively fat) collection. His stories wIf you aren't already familiar with the short stories of Frank O' Connor, do yourself a favor, and buy this (relatively fat) collection. His stories will make you laugh ("First Confession"), weep ("Guests of the Nation", one of the most powerful anti-war stories I've ever read), or just lose yourself in the humanity of his characters. Although, in my opinion, the stories of Seán Ó Faoláin are slightly more nuanced and psychologically perceptive, it's a close call. Both authors are to be recommended highly....more
I've always liked Margaret Drabble's work more than that of her (more successful?) sister, A.S. Byatt. This may be just a residual consequence of haviI've always liked Margaret Drabble's work more than that of her (more successful?) sister, A.S. Byatt. This may be just a residual consequence of having "met" her while I was in college. She had been invited to lecture by someone in the English department, and at the time I used to hang out with some of the women in English lit, so we ended up after the lecture having tea and biscuits in Josephine's flat with the eminent speaker, who was totally charming.
I think the reason I enjoy her fiction is that she so often writes about the lives of strong, intelligent women. Her protagonists are interesting people, whose problems and issues I tend to understand and identify with. Sometimes they are academics, but she manages to avoid the parochialism that mars much writing about academia, and because of that her work has a broader appeal, IMO.
Not sure why, but I like her middle novels the best - her recent novels have not engaged me that much, though she does write well, and interestingly, on relations between people of my generation and our parents. But even those of her novels that I've not enjoyed quite as much have stimulated me to think, and they are always well-written. She remains an author whose new work I am always likely to try. ...more
This is an unlikely candidate to be on my all-time list of the 5 best books I've ever read. But it is. An "autobiographical" account of a long-dead RoThis is an unlikely candidate to be on my all-time list of the 5 best books I've ever read. But it is. An "autobiographical" account of a long-dead Roman emperor (not even one of the glamorous, or truly filthy ones), written by a 20th century Frenchwoman - who'd have thunk it?
And yet, I beg, I implore you - if you haven't already - buy, steal, or scrounge a copy of this book. It will draw you in. Can't promise it will change your life. All I know is that I find myself re-reading it every two or three years. Why? Because each time I learn something more about what it is to be human. A sodden cliché, but I don't know how else to put it....more
Another one of my all-time favorite books, this is by the author of "Godel, Escher, Bach". Impossible to categorize accurately, it's a kind of extendeAnother one of my all-time favorite books, this is by the author of "Godel, Escher, Bach". Impossible to categorize accurately, it's a kind of extended riff on the difficulties and challenges of translation, carried out with a kind of beguiling enthusiasm. It shares the playfulness that characterized "Godel, Escher, Bach" but I found it more accessible and more interesting.
Starting with a single unifying thread that winds through the entire book (various* translations of a single 28-line poem by the French author Clement Marot, Hofstadter weaves a fascinating tapestry about the challenges facing a translator. There is a whole chapter dedicated to translations of Eugene Onegin; another discusses various efforts at translating Dante. Along the way there are fun digressions about such challenges as translating lipograms (text written with the constraint that one or more letters of the alphabet are never used), the paradoxical usefulness of writing under constraints of various kinds, be they artificial as in lipogrammatic writing, or metrical constraints, as in Pushkin, Dante, or the sonnets of Shakespeare, difficulties in writing translation software, linguistic issues such as the Sapir-Whorf hypothesis**, how one would translate a 'dirty' joke to a clean version, while preserving the humor.
*: I haven't counted, but there must be at least 50 different translations. Oddly enough, the accumulation of so many is not boring, but fascinating - Hofstadter's boyish enthusiasm helps to charm. **: (very) roughly, the linguistic notion that how we think is constrained by language. Dismissed by Steven Pinker in his book "The Language Instinct", though I think Pinker's case is less than convincing.
A fascinating tour-de-force, it is also the kind of book one can dip in to from time to time and be entertained by any one of its chapters....more
A magical book. I stayed up all night to finish it, and was sad when I did, because I didn't have it to read again.A magical book. I stayed up all night to finish it, and was sad when I did, because I didn't have it to read again....more
Ingeborg Bachmann was an Austrian writer, who died in 1973. I first read this collection of stories in 1978, while preparing for a German language exaIngeborg Bachmann was an Austrian writer, who died in 1973. I first read this collection of stories in 1978, while preparing for a German language exam at the Goethe Institute (the title story of the collection was part of the assigned reading list).
It's hard to describe the appeal of these stories. Often as not, the narrator is well-traveled, European, slightly world-weary, not particularly sympathetic, so that's not it. I suspect it's her exploration of themes such as the choices made by successful people, and the consequences of those choices, difficulties in communicating, questions of language and translation - topics that resonate with me for one reason or another. These stories are probably not for everyone, but I still return to this collection every few years....more
I swore to myself that I would write a review of this book before the end of 2010, so here goes. I should issue a warning - I'm totally stoked up on hI swore to myself that I would write a review of this book before the end of 2010, so here goes. I should issue a warning - I'm totally stoked up on hot Jameson toddies due to this nasty cold that took over my body on Monday (recipe: ample whiskey, cloves, lemons and suagar, all of which you mash together - and this is important - BEFORE you add the hot water; then guzzle as the situation demands). But then, it was unlikely that I would ever be able to review this - one of my top 3 books of all time - stone cold sober. And for those who wonder what kind of difference there might be between reviews on goodreads and those posted on other sites, rest assured - this is the kind of review I am self-aware enough never to post anywhere else. But self-indulgent enough, and trusting enough, to risk here on goodreads.
I think the main reason I love this book so much is that, no matter how many times I read it, every time I do it feels as if Salinger is speaking directly to me. When I first came across it (from reading "Catcher in the Rye", of course) it felt as if I had been stumbling through this enormous library all my life when suddenly I came across this secret text that had been written just for me, and only for me. Now, I'm not an idiot, so of course one part of me knows that this isn't so - there are no "magic texts", nobody is out there writing just for me. But though, on the surface I am this consummate rationalist (I have a Ph.D. in mathematical statistics, for Chrissakes), thank God I am at some level smart enough to appreciate the magic in finding a text that seems to speak to me so forcefully.
"I'm not an idiot". No. In fact I'm super-smart (not arrogance, just a statement of fact). And often, before reading this book, this felt like more of a curse than a blessing. But it was Salinger's story of the hyper-smart Glass children that first offered me a viable way to come to terms with my own gifts. At one level, there's the advice that her siblings attempt to pass on to Franny, who has reached a kind of spiritual crisis triggered by a realisation of her own giftedness. There's the love, concern and humanity with which they try to help her through that crisis, to help her to make the realisation that her talent doesn't have to be something that separates her from the great majority of people. That there is a sacred responsibility to develop and follow one's talents.
And any hint of elitism, or intellectual snobbery, or some of the other charges that are sometimes thrown against Salinger are rendered so obviously meaningless and beyond the point in the last few pages of this extraordinary love story:
Zooey: "I was furious. The studio audience were all morons, the announcer was a moron, the sponsors were morons, and I just damned well wasn't going to shine my shoes for them, I told Seymour. I said they couldn't see them anyway where we sat. He said to shine them anyway. He said to shine them for the Fat Lady. I didn't know what the hell he was talking about, but he had a very Seymour look on his face, and so I did it. He never did tell me who the Fat Lady was, but I shined my shoes for the Fat Lady every time I ever went on the air again ..."
Franny was standing. "He told me too", she said into the phone. "He told me to be funny for the Fat Lady, once"
Zooey: "I don't care where an actor acts. ... But I'll tell you a terrible secret... There isn't anyone out there who isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. ..... There isn't anyone anywhere that isn't Seymour's Fat Lady. ... I can't talk any more, buddy."
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