Let's start with the worst.
Four Shittiest Books:
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| A setting as bleak and morose as the novel |
#4: The Road (2006) by Cormac McCarthy
I can feel my professor’s disapproving look on
me right now. He basically breathes Cormac McCarthy novels. Every time I go to
his office hours, I’m greeted by the grinning, posing image of Cormac McCarthy
on his door.
I get its deep, reflective ruminations on
existence and human nature and symbolism and deep father-son connections. However, I was too distracted by the bleak,
morose, hopelessness of the thing. Not to mention the writing style only adds
it its bleakness. Its deliberately sparse use of words adds more feeling of
emptiness to the overall misery. It’s not bleak for real or relatable purposes.
It’s set in post-apocalyptic earth when almost all of humanity is dead. What’s
the freakin’ point except to feel miserable? As you could likely guess by a name like “the
road”, it goes on, and on, and on. The entire thing is unrelatable and
irrelevant.
Pros: makes the nice moments more heartwarming
until it crushes them again. Those few moments when the father and son were
able to barricade themselves in that abandoned bomb shelter with all the food
was nice. Then they left their miniature paradise and re-entered their shitty, devastated
world again.
Cormac McCarthy is a modern American author who
specializes in western, post-apocalyptic, and “southern gothic” genres. I’d be
willing to give his novel Blood Meridian a shot, but otherwise not a fan of
this dude.
#3: Gilead (2004) by Marilynn Robinson
Another favourite
of that aforementioned prof.
This one was not a complete disappointment:
there were some pretty strong reflections and feelings of nostalgia in
small-town connectedness that rang my emotions once in a while. I grew up attending
a Christian Reformed elementary school in a tiny town, which I was strongly
reminded of while reading this.
However, this one is written from the
perspective of an old, dying many in a tiny town out in the Midwest. It also
goes on. And on. And on. It felt like there would be 50-page reflections on an
irrelevant memory of the old man’s back in the 20s or something. These were
interesting the first few times, but it just went on. There is only so much
time one can devote to being inside an old man’s head as he reflects on his
entire life that has taken place completely inside this tiny town. Also, it’s written by a dying man. Where is she
getting all this authority to write from his perspective?
Some Positives: female authorship,
conversations on race, melancholic small-town nostalgia (really nailed that
one)
Marilynn Robinson is a modern American author
known for her work about rural life and faith. Great.
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| Probably not the sort of road Kerouac was driving on |
#2: On the Road (1957) by Jack Kerouac
Karsten
says I should add that I can feel his disapproving look right now too.
Kerouac is
a self-obsessed, misguided, arrogant twat who idolizes another man even more
so. He’s a middle class white dude whining about his suffering. His airy “living
in the moment” has incredibly harmful effects on those around him but that’s
okay because “they just don’t get it.” His best friend ditches his struggling
partner and baby because “she just doesn’t get it” and is trying to contain him
in a responsible lifestyle that will support the child. GTFO of here. The two
of them regularly treat women as “their next brief adventure”, promising love
and to be with them forever, then ditching them for the next adventure without
a backward glance.
Best line: “And
that was when I realized what an egg Dean was.” Great. Good for you. Finally.
Good fucking job. Now piss off, you asshole.
Some
Positives: you could read it simply as one long road trip, which can be fun if
you ignore what a horrible person he is.
Jack
Kerouac was a “struggling” writer in the 50s who pushed and pushed until
someone finally published his book. Writing directly from his own experiences,
his books are semi-autobiographical. So it’s not just the characters in his
novel that are horrible – Kerouac himself and his friends are also terrible
people. Considered one of the founders of the “beatniks”, this is the only
novel of his I’ve read. I’ve heard more positive tales of his novel Dharma Bums
though, so maybe I’ll give him another chance.
#1: Three Cups of Tea (2006) by Greg Mortenson and Oliver Relin
Mortenson.
Who’s this book about? Mortenson. Who co-wrote this book? Mortenson. Guess
What? Fucking Mortenson.
A classic
tale of the white saviour referred to only by his infamous last name “Mortenson”
saves some poor, suffering brown children from their illiterate world around
them. This is the story of his powerful journey. Along the way, some wise old
mystic brown guys teach Mortenson some deep life lessons. He undergoes some of
his own personal and deep trials but comes out strong. Now he’s here to tell us
the story and inspire us with his powerful story. Nevermind that half the schools he builds end up run-down or used for other purposes than schools (kinda like those Me to We schools...)
I feel like
that’s all that need be said. There were some nice intentions but the whole
concept is still so patronizing toward the actual people living in the
Karakoram mountain range as well as the rest of Afghanistan and Pakistan that this novel makes the #1 worst book I read in 2017.
Some
Positives: Brilliant descriptions of the Himalayas and life in the mountains. I
learned a lot about the mountaineering community through reading this.
The authors:
Greg Mortenson is a mountaineer-turned-philanthropist (hence all the
fascinating descriptions of the mountains and mountaineering). This story is
how he went from climbing peaks to building schools. In my opinion, he could
have done better by sticking to mountaineering and donating money to
organizations or people who actually knew what they were doing. Oliver Relin is
a journalist who seems to have a strange sort of love affliction with
Mortenson.
Four Greatest Books:
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| Just to remind 10-year-old Anneke what her book titles were plagiarizing. (Note: the Lizzie McGuire story had zero relation to Oscar Wilde's play) |
#4: The Importance of Being Earnest (1895) by Oscar Wilde
This one was bloody hilarious and utterly nonsensical in a rather intelligent way. Everything pieces together one after another, culminating in one absurdly clever gong show at the end. Wilde pieces together every single witty line and setting for its importance and humour. It’s also a blatant criticism of the Victorian society, in which he was living, in order to show its absurdity.
Oscar Wilde was an Irish poet and playwright in the late 1800s. Extremely witty and flamboyant, Wilde became known for his outstanding social skills and controversial topics. However, Importance of Being Earnest was his last comedy, as he had a relatively shitty later life, in which he was arrested and jailed for homosexual activity, became heavily depressed, drank excessively, and died of meningitis at 46.
#3: Mornings in Jenin (2006) by Susan Abulhawa
This novel is the culmination of stories that Susan Abulhawa learned while working with and living among Palestinians. She pieces together historical events and their tragic, dehumanizing effects on human beings. The Palestinian-Israeli conflict becomes so real – these major political actions taking place at your dinner table. Writing in first person, her style is poetic and almost lyrical. With rich, beautiful descriptions of life in Palestine pre-Israeli occupation, you can feel the pain and anger when it gets torn apart, making its powerful ending all the more devastating.
The human experience is far too often left out of politics when that is both the underlying cause and effect of political decisions. This novel returns one of the most contentious political issues to the people who experience it firsthand.
Susan Abulhawa is a Palestinian-American author and human rights activist whose parents were refugees of the 1967 war, her father being expelled at gunpoint. She is founder and promoter of several human rights organizations.
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| Kay it was supposed to be obvious that the pinecone and chestnuts are gold, to show the feebleness of stereotypes (ie. natives being "one with the earth" kinda stuff). Maybe that didn't get across. |
#2: The Inconvenient Indian: A Curious Account of Native People in North America (2012) by Thomas King
So. Fucking. Relevant.
This novel is a non-linear history of First Nations-European relations in North America, but actually written from a First Nations point of view. It tells some of the same events we’ve heard before but in a drastically different and critical way. We should be reading this in schools; we need to hear the history of this land from a voice who had it taken away.
Also, it’s so damn funny. King has an incredibly dry sense of humour and this marvelous ability to heap on the irony and dark humour in a way that clearly gets the message across while simultaneously snorting with laughter. He delivers his message so clearly. You just get him.
Thomas King is a Canadian-American First Nations author/scholar/ historian/presenter/radio show host who won the Order of Canada in 2004. He hosted the Dead Dog Café on CBC and currently works as an English professor at the University of Guelph. He is known for being critical of both Canadian and American governments, exploring Native experiences and oral storytelling as literature. He was the first Massey lecturer of aboriginal descent.
#1: Lolita (1955) by Vladimir Nabokov
By far the most uncomfortable book I’ve ever read, Lolita was also beautiful. It got under my skin and dragged out empathy where I didn’t really want empathy to begin with. Giving me full goosebumps, it’s the only novel to have sent me to bed mentally tormented. Written in first-person narrative, you really don’t want to be inside the mind of a sick and twisted, horribly selfish pedophile, yet you begin to feel sympathy for him. At so many points, I just wanted to shake him and shout “hey! Get up – it’ll be okay!” Even though this man has literally kidnapped and fetishes over this young pre-teen girl.
This young girl has her childhood ripped out from under her, torn away from those who could have provided her with a healthy childhood, and our narrator is the one entirely at fault. It makes you want to strangle him. Yet she is ultimately the master of the situation. She controls him in a sense, taking full advantage of his sick and twisted mind.
Did you ever think you’d come out of a novel thinking restorative justice could work in cases of pedophilia? I didn’t. Now I do. This novel is traumatizing in the most incredible ways, making it my #1 favourite novel of 2017.
Vladmir Nabokov was a Russian literature professor and lepidopterist (butterfly collector/researcher) who lived and taught in the States. A rather bitter old man, he was vocal in his prejudice against female authors and described Left-wing protestors as “goofy hoodlums”. He was also said to have stared at blue butterfly genitals for six hours a day, seven days a week. True story. Pretty sure he was also investigated for pedophilia himself and it would not surprise me. This was one sketchy dude.
Honourable Mention:
Uncle Tom's Cabin (1852) by Harriet Beecher Stowe
I have no
idea where to put this novel. No, I didn’t enjoy it, but I’m glad I read it. An
important piece of literature in understanding race relations in the United
States. A supposedly anti-slavery work, the story is still so racist. Written
by white folks who were against slavery for other white folks with other
thoughts on slavery, the novel still leaves black people as objects to be
governed and manipulated by white people rather than full, independent human
beings with the right to determine their own fates.
So this
book left a strange and bitter taste in the back of my mouth. Obviously
slavery is shitty and apparently this novel played an important role in
changing white people’s opinions on slavery back in the day, inspiring pro-slavery
offshoots such as “Aunt Philis’ Cabin”.
But if this
novel were written today, it would be immediately shut down for being racist as
hell, and rightly so. Can we, as white people, please stop taking some weird
self-given authority to tell other races how to be and what to do? It’s kinda
creepy.
