As someone who maintains yearly lists of what he reads, December is an interesting month. You notice how many you've read so far (a career low 108), and think about how many you feel you need to read to reach an acceptable total. 2006 is my lowest total so far, at 118, and I feel a strong desire to at least match that, which means that I would have to finish the two books that I am currently reading as I write this, and read 8 others, to tie 2006. I think I can do that at least, but we'll see.
Of course, I've only been keeping track of what I read in such a detailed manner since 2005, so I'm sure there were years when I read less. Physics isn't the only place were the act of observation changes the nature of the thing being observed.
Being this close to the end of the year though causes me to really anticipate one of my favorite recent New Years Day traditions, looking through my most recent book list to remember what was going on in my life that lead me from book to book, and generally noticing what my reading habits were like at the time. Then I compare it to the earlier lists. It may not be your idea of a great time, but I enjoy it.
I also like remembering books. For example, in just skimming the 2005 list, I'm reminded that I promised myself I would read more Plimpton after I read The Man in the Flying Lawn Chair, I still have to get on that. Of course, there are hundreds of things I have told myself I'd read, and still need to get to. Still, it's nice to stroll down memory lane.
Also from 2005, I have a wonderful memory of sitting at my desk on a particularly sunny day, reading A Room With A View and remembering my own experience in Italy.
Another great thing about December, and books, is contemplating books as presents. The one thing I like better than getting books from people, is giving people the right book. I have some shopping to do.
Showing posts with label E.M. Forster. Show all posts
Showing posts with label E.M. Forster. Show all posts
Monday, December 1, 2008
Tuesday, August 12, 2008
Finding Forster
I was going to write about reviews today, but that will have to wait. My attention has been drawn in a different direction.
I fell for Forster's writing in the first summer after college when I read Maurice and A Room of One's Own. I'd read and enjoyed A Passage to India in school, and liked it, but it fostered no great passion for him. Someday I plan to reread it.
When I develop a passion for an author, I always like to know that there is a lot out there to read. With Forster, that's not really the case. There are a number of books out there, but it's not a vast quantity. Because of this, I am even more excited that a new book of his writings has been released. The BBC Talks of E.M. Forster, 1929–1960 which is reviewed here by Zadie Smith for the New York Review of Books.
It is of course the NYRB that makes me a hypocrite, and timing that helps me avoid hypocrisy. I was going to write about my general dislike and disinterest in reviews. For books and movies, I do not go to published reviews for my recommendations. However, here I am, having read a review and very enthusiastic about acquiring the book. Thank god I didn't use particularly harsh language to criticize reviews, a good inspiration just at the time when I am planning on writing one myself.
But back to Forster. Here is Zadie Smith's explanation of him.
I don't know about you, but I was struck by how rare and admirable this makes him even today. The flaws he lacked are still very common.
I was also struck by his goals for his radio show, which strongly resemble mine for this blog. Of course as he is Forster, I can't pounce upon a single, quotable marching cry. Of course, there is an easy way to get the sense of it. You can scroll back up and read the article. I recommend it.
I fell for Forster's writing in the first summer after college when I read Maurice and A Room of One's Own. I'd read and enjoyed A Passage to India in school, and liked it, but it fostered no great passion for him. Someday I plan to reread it.
When I develop a passion for an author, I always like to know that there is a lot out there to read. With Forster, that's not really the case. There are a number of books out there, but it's not a vast quantity. Because of this, I am even more excited that a new book of his writings has been released. The BBC Talks of E.M. Forster, 1929–1960 which is reviewed here by Zadie Smith for the New York Review of Books.
It is of course the NYRB that makes me a hypocrite, and timing that helps me avoid hypocrisy. I was going to write about my general dislike and disinterest in reviews. For books and movies, I do not go to published reviews for my recommendations. However, here I am, having read a review and very enthusiastic about acquiring the book. Thank god I didn't use particularly harsh language to criticize reviews, a good inspiration just at the time when I am planning on writing one myself.
But back to Forster. Here is Zadie Smith's explanation of him.
He didn't lean rightward with the years, or allow nostalgia to morph into misanthropy; he never knelt for the Pope or the Queen, nor did he flirt (ideologically speaking) with Hitler, Stalin, or Mao; he never believed the novel was dead or the hills alive, continued to read contemporary fiction after the age of fifty, harbored no special hatred for the generation below or above him, did not come to feel that England had gone to hell in a hand-basket, that its language was doomed, that lunatics were running the asylum, or foreigners swamping the cities.
I don't know about you, but I was struck by how rare and admirable this makes him even today. The flaws he lacked are still very common.
I was also struck by his goals for his radio show, which strongly resemble mine for this blog. Of course as he is Forster, I can't pounce upon a single, quotable marching cry. Of course, there is an easy way to get the sense of it. You can scroll back up and read the article. I recommend it.
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