#74 - "Native Son" by Richard Wright

I've just completed perhaps my fastest read since I started through these 100 books. Native Son, my 74th book from Time's list, and its 430 pages only took four days to read. Of course books like Animal Farm took less time, but you know what I mean...

I'll assume the chief reason I read it so fast, was that I enjoyed it so much. It was a real page turner, and one I couldn't put down. But while I couldn't wait to read the next page, at the same time, I dreaded reading that page. This book was a tragedy in the truest sense of the word. It was gut wrenching, heartbreaking, frustrating, and maddening. And wonderful.

Bigger Thomas, a 20-year-old African-American man lives in a rat-infested, one-bedroom apartment on Chicago's South Side. Living in quarters so cramped, he and his brother are forced to turn their heads when his mother and sister wish to change, as there simply isn't any privacy in their one room.

#61 - "The Assistant" by Bernard Malamud

After over two months, I am again writing a review of a book from the list.  It's been so long, I sort of wonder if I remember how to do so.

The Assistant by Bernard Malamud is the story of Morris Bober who owns a failing grocery store somewhere in New York, after the War.  Bober leads a rather miserable life with his wife and adult daughter, watching his store slowly go out of business.  But things get even worse after two masked men rob the grocer of the $15 in his till and send him to the hospital.  After a few days, Frank Alpine shows up and offers to help Morris with his store, without pay, to "learn the business" of running a grocery store.  Soon, business picks up a bit, and things start to maybe look up for old Morris.  But the upswing is short-lived, and before long Frank is stealing money from the till, and falling in love with Helen, Morris' daughter, while the store continues its downward spiral.  

And mark how well the sequel hangs together:

One of the most shameless money making ploys in the movie business is the sequel.  In most cases a sequel is not meant to continue the story or revisit the characters, but to offer the studio a chance to make more money, rehashing the same thing that appeared in the first movie.  There are of course exceptions, like 'The Godfather Part II' or The Lord of the Rings movies, but most sequels fall into the "Weekend at Bernie's II" category.

This isn't unique to movies however, as books have long used the sequel for the same reason; people who loved the first one will probably buy the second book, regardless of its quality or relevancy.  In fact it works so well in the literary world, we see certain genres rely almost exclusively on the sequel, knowing their audience will buy every book from a series, regardless of who wrote it or how well they wrote it.  Look at many fantasy books, which offer an endless list of titles, each so generic, it hardly merits mention.  Even hardcore fans are often unable to distinguish book three from book twenty-six in a series.  Yet they still buy each one.

It got me thinking about what books from The List have sequels.  Although the majority of these reads could be considered 'higher-brow', they're still in the business of making money, and both writers and publishers see the potential of doing just that, by revisiting their most famous earlier books.  A quick glance of The List tells me that books are much like the movies, where some sequels are legitimate novels seeking to continue the story or expand the character; but for every one of those, there are a couple just rehashing everything for a quick buck.

Perhaps the most famous sequels associated with The List would be the Chronicles of Narnia books.  The first, The Lion, the Witch and the Wardrobe spawned not only five sequels, but also a prequel.  But none of them match the quality of the first book, and in fact seem to get worse and worse.  By the time we reach the fourth book, The Silver Chair, the story has distanced itself so far from the first book, they only have the land of Narnia in common, nothing more.  They're the perfect example of the fantasy genre continuing the story, as I mentioned above.  While I may consider The Lord of the Rings movies to be sequels, the books are, in fact, not.  Although released as three separate novels, they were actually written as one gigantic book.  This is the reason Lev Grossman has told me I am expected to read all three, not just the first one in order to complete my mission, and the reason they can't really be counted as sequels.

Perhaps the most horrifying sequel associated with The List, is Scarlett by Alexandra Ripley, 'sequel' to Gone with the Wind.  Having not read it (nor do I have plans to do so), I can't really comment on the quality, but the mere fact it exists is disturbing.  To begin, it wasn't written by Margaret Mitchell, in fact it was written 40 years after her death.  This alone makes it seem more like a new 'Star Wars' book, instead of a companion to one of the great books of all time.  Secondly, Mitchell said she wrote the end scene to Gone with the Wind first, and worked backward from there, creating a story to fit that scene.  She knew how she wanted the story to end, and had no plans of every continuing it.  Scarlett is a book that has cash grab written all over it.

Similar to Scarlett is Closing Time by Joseph Heller, meant as a sequel to another all-time great, Catch-22.  While this was at least written by the original author, it was released 35 years after the first novel, a book which doesn't really set up for a sequel.  It's a far cry from the first novel and probably could have been left on the shelf.

But not all literary sequels are created equally, and there a few that really stand out.  John Updike followed up his first big hit Rabbit, Run with three more 'Rabbit' novels, each released about ten years apart, each following Harry Angstrom through the decades.  These books allow the reader to follow one of the great literary characters of the 20th century through the years, from naive young man to his death.  The books stand out, as they do not simply re-hash the events of the first novel, nor do they merely put the same character in a different situation a few years later.  These are books that delve deeper and deeper into the character, giving the reader an intimate portrait of Harry Angstrom.  They are also not books Updike spit out one afternoon, while he had a free moment.  The third and fourth novels, Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest were both awarded the Pulitzer Prize for fiction.  This is the same feat Richard Ford was able to accomplish, with his sequel to The Sportswriter, Independence Day, which won the Pulitzer in 1996, revisiting Frank Bascombe.  Perhaps its the snob in me, but I feel a book that wins the Pulitzer Prize can hardly be considered a mere sequel; these are literary heavyweights.

The above award-winning novels have me wondering if the fathers of The List purposely included the first novels from the respective series, instead of the award-winning sequels as a way of introducing readers to the stories from the beginning.  Or do they not believe a sequel can be so highly regarded as to warrant inclusion on a 'best of list?'  This would be my thought and I think if I were compiling a similar list I would be hesitant to include any sequel.  However, Wide Sargasso Sea by Jean Rhys is there; prequel to Jane Eyre.  I find this to be an odd book for The List, and am curious to see how it reads.  It surprises me that a prequel written 120 years after the original, obviously by a different author, could receive such lofty praise.  But I must reserve judgement for after I have read it, which will probably be sometime in 2013...


Now if you'll please excuse me, I need to put the finishing touches on my latest manuscript, following an alcoholic Holden Caufield in his mid-50's, tentatively titled Caught in the Rye.

#45 - "Portnoy's Complaint" by Philip Roth

As I mentioned on Monday, I've come to regret the time I borrowed Portnoy's Complaint from the library, and returned it without reading it.  Not only have I returned it without having read it, I've also renewed it seven times without having read it.  But like Mark McGwire and steroids, that's all in the past and I'm here to talk about the present.  My 45th book was one of my favorites, I don't think there's really any other way to put it.  Funny, engaging, interesting, realistic, satirical, truthful; it had everything.

Alexander Portnoy is in his early 30's, works in a very prestigious position with the Mayor's office, and is obsessed with sex and loves his penis.  Of course this might not really be any great revelation, as it probably describes most men in their early 30's; they just might not work for the Mayor.

The book reads as a confession, from Portnoy to his psychiatrist.  He relives his past, telling his stories of growing up Jewish in Newark, his early obsessions with sex, his over-bearing parents, and the guilt he so often feels as a result.  He feels guilty for his obsession with sex, wondering why he has no desire to settle down, get married and have a few kids.  But despite his guilt, he isn't ready to change anything.

Often I enjoy a book because I feel an attachment to the protagonist, whether it be because I think I would enjoy their company like in The Berlin Stories or because I just find them so damn interesting as in Rabbit, Run.  Alexander Portnoy falls somewhere in between; there are times when I think he'd be a great buddy, and other times he's infuriating, but he's always fascinating.

Portnoy's Complaint was probably the most vulgar book, other than Naked Lunch, that I've read so far from The List.  I only use 'vulgur' because I can't think of a better word; there isn't anything offensive, it's just very descriptive about Portnoy's sexual exploits.  Said Time magazine in their 1969 review, "no one has written so amusingly and yet so crassly about sex since Henry Miller."  It was the sexual descriptions that led to the initial success of the book when it was first released, but it is the brilliant writing that made it a literary classic.

It was also a very funny book.  Roth writes Portnoy's parents so well, it leaves the readers with a crystal clear image of what they would be like, as stereo-typical, post-war Jewish parents.  I can think of so many movies that portray these same type of characters, and I'm pretty sure they all use Portnoy's Complaint as a template.  It was described at the time of its release as "more laughs per page than any novel in recent memory, Catch-22 and The Sot Weed Factor notwithstanding."  And it may be the only book I've ever read, in which the last line made me laugh out loud, as if it served as a punchline for the rest of the book.  I can't tell you what that is, of course, you'll have to read it yourself.

You can read a review in Tima magazine from February 21, 1969, right here.

I'm moving on to Go tell it to the Mountain by James Baldwin for my next book.

#41 - "The Moviegoer" by Walker Percy

I finished my 41st book from this list yesterday, The Moviegoer, and I'm at a little bit at a loss as to what to think.  I didn't dislike this book by any means, nor did I find it boring.  I liked the characters, I liked the style, I liked most things about it.  But while I was reading it, I never really felt pulled in by it.  Never was I longing to read more.  Sure, I was curious as to what would happen, but it wasn't a book that was on my mind all the time, even when I wasn't reading.  I can't figure out why a book I liked basically everything about, hasn't left me thinking I just finished a great book.

The Moviegoer is about John "Binx" Bolling, a New Orleans stockbroker, who's just about to celebrate his thirtieth birthday.  He's very successful in his business career, he sleeps with his secretaries, so one could argue he's successful there as well, and he goes to the movies, usually alone.  But really, he's someone who's afraid of what he terms 'everydayness,' worried that he'll be forgotten once he has shuffled off this mortal coil.  He's bored of the routine of life, and he uses the movies as a way to escape.

I enjoyed the style of the book immensely, and it was an easy to follow, accessible read.  Binx seems like the kind of guy almost anybody could have a coffee or a beer with, pleasant, intelligent, well-meaning, and all around likable fellow.  He reminds me a little of Forrest Gump in his happy-go-lucky demeanor; he just happens to be a lot smarter and less naive.  The deeper we get to know Binx though, the more we see what's actually going on.

Behind that exterior, the one that's been chasing the 'American Dream', and quite successfully at that, we see that he isn't being fulfilled.  Sure, he's got the house, a good paying job, and a nice car.  But is the dream complete, or does he also have to go to medical school, get married and have children as well?  It's almost as if he feels pressured to take these next steps, and he's unsure if he wants to because it might be nothing more than a means to an end.

There lies Binx' great dilemma.  He doesn't want to get married, though everyone else seems to.  He doesn't  believe in God, but almost everyone else does.  He likes being a stock broker, though everyone agrees medicine would be a more respectable profession.  He knows he's missing something, but he's pretty sure it isn't these entanglements everybody else is interested in.  But despite the desire to avoid these 'traps', he is constantly being pressured from every angle, and it's only a matter of time before he's completely shut in, trapped by the very dream he had been chasing most of his life.  In the end, he knows he'll have to give in. 

I often thought back to Rabbit, Run's Harry Angstrom when reading about Binx Bolling.  Both men seem to be aimlessly wandering through the desert of life, unsure of both what it is they're missing and what it is they desire.  But both men know what they really want is change.  I suppose the similarities no doubt arise from both books having been written only a year apart, in a time when the very American Dream they are both chasing was going through some major upheavals.  Gone were the glory days of the 1950's, and in came the much more gritty, social-uprising 1960's.  It's only natural that literary characters of the time would reflect those changes.


You can read TIME magazine's original review from May 19, 1961 right here.


You can hear me discuss The Moviegoer on the CBC's The Eyeopener right here.

Up next is a book, or rather an author of been fearing since the beginning of this list; Thomas Pynchon.  While I don't really know anything about him, I've never heard anybody say he's was an easy straightforward read.  Pynchon is one of nine authors with two books on the list.  Twice I've had Gravity's Rainbow out from the library, twice it's been returned unread.  So instead of trying that one more time, I'm giving his other book a try; The Crying of Lot 49.  It looks a lot more manageable and a good way to ease my way into Pynchon.

Writes not so tedious a style as this.

I've been having a little trouble getting into my latest read, Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy.  I was able to get a good dent into it, but I have to admit, I'm not that excited to continue reading.  The story seems interesting enough, but I think I'm finding McCarthy's style a little tedious; I hope that changes.

Generally, I prefer a more, for lack of a better word, direct prose, which simply describes the people or the situations, instead of a more 'flowery' showcase of the English language.  This is why I like Hemingway and not Virginia Woolf.  Blood Meridian uses a similar writing style to the Bible, both old-fashioned and monotonous.  In addition to the language, McCarthy has also decided not to use any quotation marks for dialogue.  I don't know why, but I find this very annoying.  That's what they're there for, why not use them?

I'm also reading some non-fiction right now; Travels by Michael Crichton.  Yes, the same Michael Crichton of Jurassic Park.  It was written in 1988, and chronicles his journey from medical school in the 1960's to his life as a successful author, and his frequent travels around the world.  This book has been working in the way I had originally intended non-fiction books to; I must read a chapter from Blood Meridian before I can read a chapter from Travels.  It's a motivational tool.


I will be reviewing Rabbit, Run on the radio this week.  You can here me Wednesday morning at 7:40AM (MDT) on CBC Calgary.  I'll also post the podcast here later in the week.

#38 - "Rabbit, Run" by John Updike

After a good week of reading, I’ve finished Rabbit, Run by John Updike, my 38th read from The List. In many ways it was similar to number 37, The Sportswriter. Both novels follow men unsure of their place in the world, both trying to figure out where to go. But where The Sportswriter offers hope for the future, Rabbit, Run takes it away.


Harry ‘Rabbit’ Angstrom lives a typical life in Brewer, Pennsylvania; a place that could double for Anytown, USA. In high school, he was a star basketball player and an important person. But that was eight years ago. Now, after a four-year hitch in the military, Angstrom is married to an alcoholic wife, has a three year old son, works selling the MagiPeeler kitchen gadget, and lives in a drab and dreary apartment. A life that isn’t uncommon for someone of his education.  But one day, feeling trapped, Harry decides he’s had enough and runs from his less than ideal life. He eventually finds minor comfort in the arms (and the apartment) of a prostitute, having abandoned his wife and son.

In the beginning, Harry is a somewhat sympathetic character. His reasons for wanting a change are somewhat valid, and he successfully rationalizes his actions to the reader. In the beginning, it's easy to side with Harry Angstrom. But as his life continues to unravel, so does the reader's sympathy. Harry is not a hero; he's a young man who is too afraid to deal with the mess he's created. Running is his way of avoiding responsibility, confrontation, and reality, and it’s something he does over and over and over again.

Angstrom’s transition from hero to scoundrel is slow but consistent, and always had my attention. The more I got to know Harry, the more I came to realize he isn’t a very nice person, he isn’t very intelligent, and he isn’t anything special. He really is just an average man, whose life reached its zenith in high school, and he’s having trouble coping with that fact.

But what is the most interesting part of Harry Angstrom, is what he represents. I saw Harry as a stereotypical example of Middle America; a man who, in pursuit of the American dream, seemingly has everything a person of his age and ilk should: a wife, a child, a job, and a home. But while his life may resemble a window display at Macy’s at first glance, it’s devoid of anything behind that façade. There isn’t any joy in Harry’s life, nor that of his wife, and there certainly isn't any hope for a brighter future.  They are merely going through the motions, living a mundane existence of routine and depression. Harry finally realizes ‘the dream’ is actually a nightmare, and while he longs for the days when he was relevant, deep down he knows he’ll never be that star player again. And that is when Harry decides to run, because hopefully the grass will be greener on the other side. Hopefully, running will make everything better.

Rabbit, Run offers great commentary on American life that continues to be relevant today, while set in a time we look back on with the fondest of memories. Everything was supposed to be just swell in the 50’s; the people were nice, the economy was doing well, there was less crime, and people didn’t swear; it was all exactly as it appeared on ‘Leave it to Beaver.’ Of course the world was never that nice or that perfect, and there have always been people like Harry Angstrom. In reality, people can be unhappy, have affairs, failed marriages, and tragedies can occur, but literature usually focuses on those who get over their problems, not those who merely run from them.

Ultimately, it’s the realism of Harry Angstrom that made this such a great read. He truly is one of the great characters in literature; a real hall of famer.  Updike is able to create a character that is interesting and intriguing without being likeable.  It's no wonder Book magazine named him one of the top five greatest characters in fiction since 1900, a distinction I'm sure few would argue with.  Harry Angstrom is one of the most significant and complex characters in modern literature, whose life is told through four of the most highly regarded novels of the past 50 years, and told by one of the world’s most renowned story tellers. When the day comes that I’ve finally finished reading these 100 all-time novels, I’m sure the remaining three ‘Rabbit’ books, Rabbit Redux, Rabbit is Rich, and Rabbit at Rest, will be at the top of my ‘to read’ list.

Listen to my CBC Eyeopener discussion of Rabbit, Run right here.

Time magazine's original review from November 7, 1960 can be found here.




My next book will by Cormac McCarthy's novel, Blood Meridian, I believe the only book resembling anything close to a Western on The List.  I know little about the book, but have heard it is one of his more violent stories.  Having seen the movie No Country for Old Men, I figure that says a lot.

I can speak english, lord, as well as you;

While I've been reading John Updike's novel, Rabbit, Run, I also read The Mother Tongue: English and How It Got That Way, a wonderful book by Bill Bryson.  Once again, Bryson takes what could be a rather boring topic, and makes it interesting. I suppose it isn't that the topic is necessarily boring, but that people write about it in such boring fashion. Bryson uses language, research, and wit, to make a for a great, informative read.

I went to French immersion school growing up, and am now fluent (more or less!) in the language.  Of course I always groaned about how difficult it was, but looking back, I feel it must have been a breeze compared to someone trying to learn English as a second language.  There are simply too many things which are unexplainable, too many nuances that don't make sense.  Why are 'five' and 'good' pronounced differently than 'give' and 'food'? Why do Britons say 'lift' but Americans say 'elevator'? Why do we pronounce 'colonel' with an 'arr' sound? And where does the word 'fuck' come from, and why does it have so many meanings?

Why does English have so many words, and why do so many words mean the same thing?  I had never thought about it before, but other languages do not have a thesaurus; this is unique to English.  Of course, most languages only have a fraction of the words English does, so a thesaurus is unnecessary.  But in English, there are so many words, with so many synonyms and so many homonyms, a thesaurus is a necessary tool.

I leave you with the words 'set' and 'what'.  Both common words we all use everyday.  The word 'set', all of three letters long, takes five pages, and 15,000 words for its' 43 meaning to be explained in the Oxford English Dictionary.  The word 'what' is even more common, usually used every couple of sentences when we speak.  I defy anybody to explain what it means.


It looks to be a glorious Canada Day weekend, which I'll celebrate by reading on the patio.  Rabbit, Run is almost finished and there are nine other books from The List currently sitting on my mantle, just waiting to be read.

#37 - "The Sportswriter" by Richard Ford

I finished The Sportswriter last night, Richard Ford's first novel in his Bascombe Trilogy, and my 37th read from Time magazine's 100 greatest English language novels.  It was an engaging read, one that kept pushing me forward, but one I'm still trying to figure out.

The story follows Frank Bascombe, recently divorced, resident of middle New Jersey, and, of course, a sportswriter.  The book takes place over Easter weekend, starting with Bascombe and his ex-wife meeting at the grave site of their deceased son Ralph.  While he seems mostly content, Bascombe still struggles with many things. 

He still aches for his son Ralph, he's unsure if he should have given up his career as a novelist to be a sportswriter, and he seems to have a degree of regret about his divorce.  He is having an affair with a nurse from Texas, who he tells himself he's ready to marry, but who the reader has a hard time seeing as a match.  The Easter weekend then hits a couple of roadblocks, causing Bascombe to take a closer look at some parts of his life, take a closer look at himself.

Without a doubt, my favorite part of any good book is the characters within it.  Whether I love them or hate them, well-developed characters can always engage me.  They cause me to pull for or against them, and they allow me to have a vested interest in the outcome of the novel.  It is the characters that will always be my litmus test for a book, while the plot or the style will always be secondary.  So when I reflect on The Sportswriter, I'm sort of at a loss.  Basically I'm unsure of what to think about Frank Bascombe.

There isn't really anything spectacular about Frank Bascombe.  He doesn't have a terribly interesting job like, say Alec Leamas in The Spy Who Came in From the Cold, and he isn't really going through any extraordinary experiences like Scarlett O'Hara in Gone With the Wind.  He's just an average guy, with a house in the suburbs, an alright job, a couple of kids, an ex-wife and an uncertain future.  Really, he sounds like half the people out there.  Of course ordinary isn't what people read books for, and it's much more diffcult to make interesting.  I think it speaks to the quality of the writing when such an ordinary character in such an ordinary situation, can be interesting.

But I think in a way, it was his common existence that made him interesting.  Finally, there wasn't a character with some crazy job you only see in the movies, nor was he going through some kinds of traumatic event we only read about in history books.  He's just plodding through life at age 38 wondering what to do next, questioning himself, his motives, and his goals.  Bascombe reflects on years gone by, and wonders if he made the right decision.  He looks at some of his present situations and wonders if he's headed in the right direction.  Who amongst us doesn't do the same?



You can read TIME's original review from May 24, 1986 right here.


For my next book, I'll be reading Rabbit, Run by John Updike.  Like The Sportswriter, its' sequel won the Pulitzer Prize.  In fact, two sequels to Rabbit, Run did; both Rabbit is Rich and Rabbit at Rest.

#36 - "The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie" by Muriel Spark

I finished my 36th book from The List, The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie in just over a week.  Not bad I suppose, but it's one I probably could have finished in a day or two if I had put my mind to it.  While reading Gone with the Wind, my previous book, there was a sense of duty.  I had to read so many pages each day, or I'd never reach the end.  But with this book, at a mere 171 pages, there wasn't any urgency in my reading habits.  I would sort of think to myself, 'if I don't read anything today, it's okay, as I can easily make up for it tomorrow.'  And before long, a week had passed.  I actually read the last 100 or so pages in one day.  Something I could have done a week ago.  Oh well.

I found this to be a little bit of a different read.  Spark tends to get to the point, which is probably why the book is so short.  In a way, the style reminds me a little bit of Hemingway.  Miss Jean Brodie is a teacher at a girl's school in Edinburgh, in the early 1930's.  She proclaims to be in 'her prime' and feels she can teach her students more than just the three R's.  Hand-picking six students, who go on to be known as 'the Brodie set,' she thrives on making these girls 'la creme de la creme.'  She takes the girls to many extra curricular activities, like the theatre, art shows and golfing.  Slowly, a deep bond forms between teacher and students.

But through a series of prolepsis (a new word I learned meaning flash-forward), we learn that eventually, Miss Brodie will not only be dismissed from the school, but that it was one of the girls from her set that would betray her.

My first reaction to this book upon finishing it, was admittedly, that it was nothing special.  A short little story about some girls in Scotland.  It was an alright read, but nothing more.  But the more and more I've thought about it, the more I've come to appreciate how clever the story is and how complex the characters are.  Jean Brodie herself, at first seems to be nothing more than a rather confident young teacher, with a more liberal attitude than would be expected at the time.  But as her betrayal unfolds, we realize that she is really quite 'a ridiculous woman' and perhaps not a very good teacher either.  She manipulates and exploits her students for her personal and professional gain.

The students themselves also appear to be nothing more than typical ten year old children.  But we learn about their growth and how Miss Brodie's unconventional teachings shape them as young woman.  As they become more self aware, they begin to see things a little clearer.  They slowly realize that Miss Brodie was not all she made herself out to be, and one even sets out to bring her down.  In reality, it is Miss Brodie who brings about her own betrayal, but like the loud, obnoxious person at the office, who never understands why they always eat lunch alone, Miss Brodie seems genuinely confused as to who from her set would do such a thing to her, or why they would do it.



You can read TIME's original review from January 19, 1962 here.


I have started Richard Ford's 1986 novel, The Sportswriter.  While there are a few Pulitzer Prize-winning novels from this list (9 to be exact), The Sportswriter shares a more unique distinction.  Along with John Updike's Rabbit, Run, they are both books from The List, whose sequels were awarded the Pulitzer Prize.  Updike won for both Rabbit at Rest and Rabbit is Rich, while Richard Ford won for his follow up novel, Independence Day.