#40 - "Appointment in Samarra" by John O'Hara

A book I knew nothing about, from 1934, made for a quick read this weekend, and a damn good one at that.  Appointment in Samarra by John O'Hara is exactly my type of book; focusing on realistic, interesting characters.  As I inch closer to the halfway mark of this list, I'm finally starting to realize what type of books I enjoy reading.

Set in the fictional Pennsylvania town of Gibbsville, Appointment in Samarra follows the self-destruction of one Julian English, over three days at Christmas, 1930.  A well-to-do man of 30 years, English owns a Cadillac dealership, has a college education, is member of all the best clubs, and is married to Caroline; a woman he loves and a woman that loves him.  But behind the seemingly perfect life, lives a deeply flawed man.

Julian's problems start at a party on Christmas Eve when in a drunken state he throws his drink into the face of Harry Reilly, one of the wealthier men in town, giving him a black eye in the process.  While by no means the beginning of his problems, it does begin a chain reaction that threatens to destroy every part of Julian's life.

I'm always of fan of what I would describe as 'character-driven' novels, where the setting and happenings are almost secondary to the development and growth of the central figures.  In Appointment in Samarra, O'Hara uses some of the frankest and most realistic interactions I've ever read.  Too often I find characters in novels or in movies talk in, well, a scripted fashion.  They use a formality that real people don't use and a wit real people don't have.  This naturally become even more prevalent in older books, where characters must avoid swearing or discussing sexual situations.

I remember hearing or reading that parts of Appointment in Samarra were quite 'racy' for the time, so I was assuming there would be explicit sexual scenes, or profane language.  Of course as usually is the case, there wasn't anything in Appointment in Samarra that you wouldn't see on television today.  While I suppose there would be some minor 'swearing', it certainly wouldn't be anything I'd be hesitant to use in any public setting.  As for sexual scenes, there is nothing explicit, as in Tropic of Cancer.  Everything in Appointment in Samarra is merely suggested, and not any specific sexual acts, merely the fact that adults have sex (who knew!?).

But despite the rather tameness of the sexual scenes or the 'adult situations', the characters still discuss them in a realistic manner.  They talk of sex, as something that everybody does, not as if it's something that doesn't really exist and should never be discussed.  I always have this image of earlier eras, where nobody swears, and nobody talks about anything even remotely private.  This no doubt arises from the fact that in the movies of these by-gone eras, nobody talks about sex, nobody swears, and people are always quite formal.  This is what I found made the dialogue in this book so great.  These are characters that are really just like the people of today.  They talk about sex with their spouse or with the guys, they swear when they're mad, and they talk about other people's tragedies with a touch of humor; happy it hasn't happened to them.  And I'm sure the people of the 30's were no different.  Except for maybe my grandparents, who I simply cannot picture using the word sex, never mind discussing it in any way, shape, or form.

Of course this frank treatment of everyday situations caused quite a stir at the time of publication.  The book has been described as vulgar, infantile, and crass.  Most critics seemed to enjoy the style and story, but were turned off by O'Hara's attempt to push the envelope of what was acceptable for publication at the time.  Ultimately, the book was never banned in the United States, unlike so many others of the time, so I suppose he was successful.  Reading things like this often make me thankful I don't live in an era so prudish that critics can't praise a book they enjoyed, simply because two adults had sex and one person called another a bitch.



You can read the original review in TIME from August 20, 1934, by clicking here.


To listen to my discussion of Appointment in Samarra on The Eyeopener, click here.


For my 41st book, I'm going up a couple of decades to 1961's The Moviegoer by Walker Percy.  Following a New Orleans stockbroker, it's said to combine Bourbon Street elegance with the spiritual urgency of a Russian novel.

A goodly house: the feast smells well;

I've nearly finished my 37th book, The Sportswriter, with only a few dozen pages left.  I'm still not sure what I think of it as a book.  There are times when I'm mesmerized and can't put it down, and there are times I find it drags a little.  But all in all, it's one I'm enjoying, even though it doesn't really have anything to do with sports.

It has also provided me with two links to other books on The List, which for some reason I find really interesting.  I don't know why, but it seems odd or funny to me, that a book from a list of great books, would mention other books from the same list.  It first happened in The Corrections, when one of the characters was reading The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe.  In The Sportswriter, Frank, the protagonist, is asked how long it has been since he read The Sun Also Rises.  He doesn't recall, but figures it's probably been quite some time.  For me, I read it last September, #17 on my list.  Later on in the novel, Frank is listening to the radio, where a feminist announcer is reading dirty passages from Tropic of Cancer, my 10th read. If I had never read this book, I wouldn't really know what he was talking about.  I suppose, in a way, I can thank The List for making me a little smarter.  Or maybe just a little more aware.

While reading The Sportswriter I have also continued my plan of reading a non-fiction book at the same time.  Yesterday, I was able to finish A Moveable Feast by Ernest Hemingway.  Another book that mentions The Sun Also Rises, but I guess that's to be expected.  The book is really an account of Hemingway's time in Paris in the mid-20's while he was working as a foreign correspondent for the Toronto Star Weekly.

Really, this book reads just like one of Hemingway's novels with short, too-the-point dialogue, and limited descriptions about settings or surroundings.  Hemingway talks about his experiences in Paris, being what he describes as 'very poor and very happy.'  He talks of the people he spent time with, most notably Gertrude Stein, Ezra Pound and F. Scott Fitzgerald.  It is the chapters about Fitzgerald I found particularly interesting.  Hemingway really paints an almost pathetic picture of the writer.  He describes him as a drunk and a  hypochondriac, who has very little self esteem and is basically an all-around helpless human being.  I think of The Great Gatsby and how it is received today and wonder how somebody like the man Hemingway describes, could write such a masterpiece.

In the future, they'll be read

While I was at the book store today I was looking at a couple of books from The List, reading the back cover; checking them out basically. I had no intention of buying any of them, as A, I'm not planning on buying any of the books for now. And B, I already have ten books sitting on my desk at home from the library, that need to be read.

One I looked at was Day of the Locust, which seems quite interesting. It's about someone trying to make it in Hollywood in the 1930's. Another was The Golden Notebook, about a divorced female author, suffering through writer's block. I was intrigued by both, but for the reasons stated above, left them both on the shelf. It got me thinking however, that although I've spent a lot of time thinking about my reading order, for the most part I haven't been considering the stories I want to read, and trying to spread them out amongst all the books I don't want to read, or at least think I don't want to read.

So far, I haven't done a bad job of this, and have managed to mix in Brideshead Revisited and Tropic of Cancer with Beloved and Housekeeping. This isn't to say I enjoyed or didn't enjoy any of these books, but rather that going into some books, I'm excited, and some I am not. Probably most of that is due to either the cover, or me having heard of the book somewhere else (this was the case of Tropic of Cancer which I knew only from 'Seinfeld'). So the two books I saw today seem like two books I would like to read, but I realize that I can't be reading them for a while.

Then it struck me, that going through a list of 100 books presents one with some odd situations. When I see Never Let Me Go, the book which I have decided I will read 99th, I realize that I won't be reading it for almost three years (okay, at my current pace, over three years). It's odd to say, 'Ooh I want to read this. I shall do so in 2014.' But I suppose that's what happens when you decide to make your way through a list such as this.  And of course my current read, Infinite Jest isn't helping this problem at all.

Speaking of Infinite Jest, I've basically reached the halfway point, sitting on page 529.  Only 540 to go!  It hasn't really gripped me yet, and I've basically lost any hope that it will.  Instead, it looks as if it will be a book a slug through over one thousand pages and then never speak of it again.

#24 - "On the Road" by Jack Kerouac

My 24th book from The List was Jack Kerouac's On the Road, which I actually finished almost two weeks ago, but whilst on the road myself, did not have the time to write a review.  Without further ado, here it is.

Despite knowing Jack Kerouac to be one of the prominent beat writers of that generation, I didn't know what this novel would be.  I didn't know if this would be to beatniks what Naked Lunch was supposed to be to drug addicts, or if this would be a great story of a road trip, like The Sun Also Rises set in middle America in the late 40's.  As I began reading, it seemed to be pointing at the former, but slowly the pieces came together, creating a story for sure, but really creating a cast of characters who were not easily forgotten..

Almost autobiographical, Kerouac is represented by Sal Paradise, recent college graduate and budding author, who lacks any kind of direction or purpose, but wants to find himself, on the road.  He's accompanied by his hero, Dean Moriarty, son of a wino, who has evenly divided his time between pool halls and prison, but who greets every person and event with more enthusiasm than most can ever muster.  The two, often accompanied by series of secondary characters, take a series of adventures across the country; finding odd jobs, shacking up with strange women, and 'living life.'

At the time it was first published, Kerouac was seen as the voice of a new generation; the Hemingway or Fitzgerald of post-war America.  On the Road looked at America in a way many previous works didn't or wouldn't.  It's reception was often frosty from mainstream media, one reviewer describing it as a 'barberic yawp of a book'.  But it did indicate that his new generation wasn't silent either, and that while classic writers might not be voicing their experiences, new writers were.

Today, the sex, the drugs, and the carefree attitude aren't as cutting edge as they were in 1957, but it's story of friendship and adventure are as relevant today as ever, if not more so.  What seemed like a foolish journey then, travelling across the country for the sake of travelling, today is seen as something everybody should do in their formative, post-college days; almost a right of passage.

I found myself getting more and more involved with the characters and their adventures the more I read.  I found myself identifying with their problems, being it their longing for some direction in life, or their fear of facing the consequences of their misadventures.  As the years passed, they slowly recognized the need to settle down and take responsibility for their actions.  They recognized that eventually one has to 'grow up'.  Of course it isn't easy to come to this conclusion, but eventually everybody has to, no matter how reluctant they may be.

You can read TIME's original review from September 16, 1957 here.

I've started book number twenty-five, Herzog by Saul Bellow, and when finished will have reached the quarter pole of my journey to one hundred.

#22 - "Falconer" by John Cheever

My 22nd book from The List, is also the first book I've stolen.  Well, maybe stolen is too strong of word.  But I did 'borrow' it without permission from a tiny Newheart-esque Inn, near Markdale, Ontario. I was hoping the element of danger associated with reading a sto--borrowed book would make for some exciting reading sessions, but no luck; not once did I look over my shoulder to see if the fuzz was on my tail.  Falconer was yet another book I didn't really know anything about the story, but like Tropic of Cancer, I was aware of its' existence, thanks to "Seinfeld."  In the episode where Susan finds out here dad had an affair with John Cheever (The Cheever Letters), George is later seen reading Falconer (however he erroneously refers to it as The Falconer).

Ezekiel Farragut is serving a life sentence in Falconer State Prison for killing his brother.  Farragut is, or rather was, a university professor and heroin addict, living in a loveless marriage and a loveless life.  The book follows Frragut as he struggles to live with his addiction, with his loneliness and with his loss of freedom.  For whatever reason, when I started reading this book, I thought it was going to be like The Shawshank Redemption. I'm not sure if I was expecting a sequel, or the novelization of the movie, but I really had that type of prison story in my head.  My ideas were seemingly confirmed too, as the story started out describing the prison, an old stone structure, and then describing the various inmates and prisoners.

After I was about a quarter through the book however, I more or less forgot about The Shawshank Redemption, and was simply enjoying a good read, as the two stories seemed to head in different directions.  With Falconer, I was being pulled in only by the writing, and literally couldn't put the book down (by 'literally', I mean figuratively, as I was able to put the book down, but didn't want to, because I was enjoying it so much).  But now that I look back, despite having completely different stories, there were a lot of similarities between the two.  Both used hope as their main theme, which I suppose isn't an odd theme for a prison tale.  In Falconer, we see Farragut adapting to his surroundings, sort of accepting his fate and trying to make the best of his situation.  But slowly, the 'good' things in his life start to fade, and hope seems to disappear, until the end of the book, when a set of, how shall I say, fortunate circumstances fall into place, allowing for hope and even his freedom to return.  If you think back to the above mentioned movie, you'll remember that Andy Dufresne goes through pretty much the exact same roller coaster of emotions.  This isn't to say Falconer is exactly like Shawshank or vice versa, but I see a lot of similarities in the themes the two explore and only use it as a comparison, not a barometer.

What I liked about this book was its' ability to involve me with the emotions of the protagonist.  I found I enjoyed the book more at the beginning and the end, when times seemed to be going well for Farragut, while in his low times, I found my attention waning.  I like to think this is because of Cheever's writing being so effective at making the reader sympathize with the character.  Hopefully it isn't because I only like 'feel good' stories that don't effectively deal with realistic situations.  I'll go with the former.


Read TIME magazine's original review from February 28, 1977 right here.



I currently have eight books from the library, so I`ll select one to read next, but right now I`m not sure which it will be.

#17 - "The Sun Also Rises" by Ernest Hemingway

I have now finished reading Ernest Hemingway's first novel, and only novel on The List; The Sun Also Rises.  Myself, I'm a fan of Hemingway's writing style, but I know it isn't for everybody and I find people either love him or hate him.  I once recommended A Farewell to Arms, to someone, saying how great it was and how I couldn't put it down.  They returned it two days later, having read about thirty pages and saying they couldn't take it anymore.  I like it, but I can understand not liking Hemingway's style.

The Sun Also Rises is the story of ex-pat Jake, who lives in Paris and seems to lead quite the life of leisure, all whilst keeping a job with an English newspaper in the French capital.  His days are taken up with drinking, eating and meeting with friends; usually to continue eating and drinking.  They seem to lead the same lifestyle as the characters in Tropic of Cancer, who were also ex-pats, living in Paris, spending their time eating and drinking.  Hmmm...perhaps I should have been born around the turn of the century, so I could have moved to Paris in the 20's.  I too enjoy eating and drinking.

Looking for a break from Paris (not eating and drinking), Jake and his friends Bill, Robert and Lady Brett Ashley take a trip to Spain, to partake in the Fiesta of San Fermin in Pamplona, which again involves eating and drinking, but also bull fighting.  Hemingway himself was a known fan of bull fighting, and this seems to be his ode to the sport.  He speaks eloquently of the majesty of bull fighting, and to be honest, reading this book has made me want to take in a fight myself.  While at the fiesta, Jake and his friends experience a roller-coaster of emotions, but despite the ups and downs, they all seems to have a good time in the end.  I could be more specific, but there isn't really any point.  In the end, not much really happens, but I still enjoyed reading it very much.  The story was still interesting, more as a result of the characters and Hemingway's short and to the point descriptions.  But like his other novels, I foresee a lot of people not liking this book at all, while others will praise it till the cows come home.

Now, I have a confession.  The entire time I was reading this book, I kept wondering why Jake and Brett didn't "hook up."  They both profess their love to each other several times throughout the book and they seemed to be very compatible together.  However, while Brett sleeps with almost every man she encounters, Jake never takes beds any women.  He even picks up a prostitute in Paris, but only takes her out for dinner and drinks.  Until the very end, I was still thinking the two would get together and perhaps live happily ever after, but alas, it never happened.  After I had finished the book, I began my secondary research on the novel and much to my surprise, I learned that Jake was impotent from a war injury, and hence, he wasn't hookin' up with anybody.  I don't know how I missed this, as every review I read, this was basically mentioned in the first line.

From Time Magazine:

"Meet Jake Barnes: working journalist, expatriate, tough talker, tragic hero. Jake was horribly wounded in the war — in fact, he was effectively gelded."

Wikipedia:

"The narrator of The Sun Also Rises is Jake Barnes, an expatriate journalist in his mid-twenties who lives in Paris. Barnes is impotent because of a war wound..."

Well, you get the idea.  Everybody seemed to have picked up on this except me, even Wikipedia!  Oh well, I guess I can't absorb everything, including major plot elements.  It makes a lot more sense now, knowing that two people, in love, we're never going to end up together, but didn't take away from the book, as I still enjoyed it.  I hope when I read Nineteen Eighty-Four, I realize it isn't about Winston Smith's husky sibling.


You can read Time Magzine's original review from November 1, 1926 here.


My next book will be I, Claudius, the book I had intended to read had I not fogotten to take it with me to BC.

And after one more hour, 'twill be eleven

I've started my eleventh book on the list. After finishing Tropic of Cancer, I've moved onto another book of which I know little about; Midnight's Children by Salman Rushdie. As I mentioned earlier, Rushdie is the only thing I know about this book. I know he had a fatwa put out on him for his novel The Stanic Verses, and I recall hearing on Weekend Update many years ago, that he was also in trouble for another novel, Buddha, You Fat Bastard, but I'm not sure if that's legit or not.

So onto the eleventh book, a little less than six months into my journey. I guess at this rate, I'll finish in five years. At first thought, that seems a long, long time to be reading one list of books. But, then I remind myself that I probably haven't read 100 novels in my entire life, so it isn't as if I should be finished this list in a few months or something. And at the end, maybe I'll have something I can be proud of. Then again, maybe it'll be something like having the world's record for the longest time on a unicycle. I may be proud of it, but most people will think it a little ridiculous.

#10 - "Tropic of Cancer" by Henry Miller

I've finished my tenth book of the list. Hmmm...it seems like only six months ago that I started this epic quest. I"m on about a five year pace right now...and that's not bad.

When I started reading Tropic of Cancer, I was more familiar with the imaginary line that circles the globe at about 23 degrees North, than I was with the book. I knew it was supposed to be quite "racy" and I knew it had been banned in the United States for over twenty years. As for the story, I was in the dark.

The book is told in the first person, and basically reads as an autobiographical account of author Henry Miller's own experiences living in Paris as an expatriate, struggling writer. As many reviews have noted, Tropic of Cancer doesn't really seem to have any plot. Or at least there isn't a conclusion, nothing really happens, and well, at the end of the book, the main character is still in the same situation he was at the start.


Living in Paris, Henry is poor, doesn't have a job, and enjoys drinking and women. He spends most of his days trying to secure a free meal, free drinks, and many nights, a place to sleep. He floats from temp job to temp job, living out of his pocket, and living a life that seems normal in 1920's Paris but would be, for lack of a better word, immoral in the United States, which is probably the reason this book was banned in that country for so many years.

And that is basically the entire book; a few years in the life of this ex-pat, as he drifts from house to whore house to school to work, not seeming to have any point in his life other than to fulfill his most basic needs. This isn't to say that I didn't enjoy the book; far from it. It was an interesting read and a good read. It just doesn't contain many of the conventional elements of a novel. What I found interesting reading this book, much like I found with Naked Lunch, was the language used in the writing. Having been written in 1934, I find it so suprising to find words used that even today I wouldn't expect to see in many novels. (Most notably a plethora of C-sharps Miller uses to describe the hunt for women.)

When the book was originally published in Paris, in 1934, it was immediately listed as obscene in the States, and made illegal to publish or distribute. It wasn't until the late 1950's, when one publishing house decided to fight the existing obscenity laws, eventually leading to its release. The release of Tropic of Cancer would also lead to the release of many other "obscene" books, and eventually, after Naked Lunch was released a few years later, the end of any books being banned in the Untied States.

Many of the minor topics in Tropic of Cancer, which the characters frequently discuss, is the prudishness of America. One of the things they seem to enjoy so much about their life in Paris is the fact that they can go for a drink (The United States was still under prohibition at the time the novel takes place), or they can hire a prostitute to fill their sexual desires. When ever someone suggests returning to the States, they wonder if they would be able to adjust to returning to such a puritanical society after having lived a much more liberal life in France.

Despite being banned in the United States, the book was hailed by most critics as a great read. When first published, Ezra Pound pronounced it as "an unprintable book that is fit to read." I couldn't agree more with this statement. Like Naked Lunch it is laced with obscenities and "adult situations", but unlike Burroughs’s novel, these obscenities seem only to be used as a descriptive tool, and not to simply shock the audience. It sounds exactly how someone would describe many of the situations to their friends.

I guess to summarize, Tropic of Cancer is a novel about sex, but one that I enjoyed for other reasons. It has reinforced my enjoyment of working through this list as well, as it is yet another novel I probably wouldn't have read otherwise, but thoroughly enjoyed. Plus, I now understand why Jerry and George were so excited to get a copy of it in 1971. What teenager in the pre-internet era wouldn't get excited about graphic sexual description in print?



You can read the original Time Magazine review from November 21st, 1938 here:
http://www.time.com/time/magazine/article/0,9171,760361-2,00.html

I must become a borrower of the night

I'm heading out of town for a few days tomorrow and as I'm almost finished Tropic of Cancer, I thought I'd better hit the library up for a couple more novels before I leave. The last thing I want is to be on the road or waiting at the airport, without a book to read; especially after making such good progress in the past month.

I decided to continue reading novels I've never heard of and novels I know nothing about. Mostly because I'm going to have to read them sooner or later, so why not now? But also, it makes me feel like I'm broadening my horizons. When I tell people I just finished The Catcher in the Rye, most have already read it, usually in high school, and don't think my finishing it as any great accomplishment. But when I tell someone I read Light in August they seem more impressed. Okay, actually I've yet to meet anybody who's heard of Light in August, but most have heard of it's author, William Faulkner. They all seem impressed with Faulkner, despite nobody seeming to know anything about him. If you're reading this, and are one of the few who know a lot about William Faulkner, click here.

Anyway, back to the library, I ended up picking up three novels from the list. First is Atonement by Ian McEwan, of which I'm told there was a movie recently, but I know nothing about either the book or the movie, so it fits my qualifications. Second, was Midnight's Children, which the only thing I know about it is that its' author was the subject of a fatwa in the 1980's and 90's for one of his other novels, The Satanic Verses, being insulting to Islam. The third book I picked up was The Corrections by Johnathan Franzen. I just happened to walk by this on the shelf and remembered it from the list. I was actually heading to find I, Claudius, which was most likely one shelf over.

Again, I'm not sure why I've picked up three books from the library. I'm not even finished Tropic yet and I'm picking up three more books. At my current rate, I won't be finished these three until sometime in late 2018. I guess I should be only checking out one book at a time, but then again, who's this hurting?

If you swear, my lord, you shall not be forsworn.

I'm about half way through Tropic of Cancer now. It's not bad; but not exactly what I was expecting. This seems to be a reoccurring theme for me. I guess when I'm reading through a list of books I haven't read before, I should expect to be surprised.

Originally published in 1934, in France, it was banned in the United States (another reoccurring theme) for being obscene. Now, I wouldn’t use the word obscene, as I don’t really find anything to be obscene, but I can definitely see why prudish Americans would be up in arms in the 1930’s over this novel. The language used throughout is of the ‘R’ rated variety, and one of the predominant themes, prostitution, would have been something that wasn’t discussed in inter-war America.

The word ‘cunt’ is used so frequently in this book; you’d almost think you were reading a story from Penthouse Forum. (However, Miller has yet to mention that he attends a large mid-western university and never believed the stories, until last weekend, nor has his name and address been withheld.) While the sexual situations aren’t terribly detailed, there is discussion of douching, masturbating, condoms (the long fish skin variety?), and menstrual issues, including possibly the first ever use of the idiom ‘the wound that never heals.’ While none of this is very shocking today, in the United States in the early 30’s, you can imagine these topics all being very taboo. I mean, this book was published five years before the US was sent into a frenzy because Clark Gable removed his shirt in Gone With the Wind and used the most evil of words; ‘damn.’ I can’t imagine what a passage describing a whore using a bidet before being fucked would do to that same nation.

I’ve also been thinking about the language in this book compared to Naked Lunch, which was also quite liberal in its’ choice of words. While I found Naked Lunch to be using offensive words and situations almost for the sake of being offensive, Tropic of Cancer is using them to accurately reflect real dialogue. I mean, most people use ‘shit’ and ‘fuck’ constantly throughout the day, yet it’s never heard on TV, and usually not seen in books.

Having said all this, the book is much better than I might have let on. It’s isn’t on this list for its vulgarity, but rather its descriptive brilliance. I’ll go back to reading now so I can finish it this month and perhaps summarize it a little more in depth.

Come, and take choice of all my library,

I headed to the library today with a couple of things in mind. First off, I need to read a couple of books that I know nothing about. While I haven’t read the vast majority of the books on the list, I might have seen the movie (One Flew Over the Cuckoo’s Nest) or I might be very familiar with the story (Lolita) despite not having read it or seen the movie. However, most of the books on the list don’t fit into either category. Let's face it, I haven’t even heard of most of these books. So instead of finding myself with thirty books to go, none of which I know anything about, I’ve decided to make a point of tackling some of these novels.

I came out with two selections from today’s trip; Beloved by Toni Morrison and Tropic of Cancer by Henry Miller. I don’t know anything about Beloved or its author, and the only thing I know about Tropic of Cancer is that it’s supposed to be quite racy. And I only know this from that episode of ‘Seinfeld’ where Jerry has a 25-year overdue library book.

I think I’ll start with Beloved as it would come first alphabetically. Written in 1987, this will be by far the newest book I’ve read so far, the next one being The Spy Who Came in from the Cold, written in 1964.