I thought I might squeak one more book into the count this year, but I've actually read NOTHING over the past week, while on vacation in Los Angeles. Weird state of affairs that. Anyway, here's the 2010 Book Count.
I should have done this yesterday, but I spent the day convalescing, watching 30 Rock, and hoping the gin in my system would wear through eventually. Here are my no-particular-number-of 2010 standouts (and hopefully my from-memory details are right; I'm still partially made of gin):
The Glass Room - Should have won the Booker. My favourite of the 2009 field.
The Women's Room - When the Women's Movement was newish, finding its feet, and really, really active. This is some sort of Golden Age that I'm too young to remember.
Ten Storey Love Song - An entire novel in a single sentence, that starts on the front cover. Sounds gimmicky, but isn't. Bit of a Trainspotting vibe, but everything Brit+Drugs has that by default I suppose. (Linked review by Irvine Welsh doesn't help either, heh.) Even the Dogs is also a Brit+Drugs book, which is lesser only in that it isn't as daring.
Fauna - As much of a love song to Toronto as anything else. Reminded me why I live here (there, heh, I'm not in T.O. right now).
Gate at the Stairs - Rightfully in a lot of "Year's Best" lists. Deals with Big Issues (race, class, 9-11, becoming an adult) on an extremely personal level.
I Love Dick - I discovered Chris Kraus this year, rhapsodized about her, and haven't been the same since.
Fear of Fighting - Read in three hours, hurtling through breakups and mental illness, sadness and hopefull steps towards redemption.
Player One - Not because it's anywhere near his best work, but my copy is signed, and that's a definite highlight in my year.
Room - Truly amazing. A lot of people are put off by the 5-yr-old narrator, for various reasons, but the linked review by Lainey Lui (a noted gossip blogger) really, really nails why it worked for me.
Tangles - I cried my way through Tangles. I went through a lot of this with my Mom, who is still alive in a nursing home, but as gone from us as a living person can be. It was very, very difficult to read, but I'm glad I did. Yes, it upset me, but it also showed me that the absolute horror of this disease isn't something we do alone. There are others like us.
Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts
Showing posts with label lists. Show all posts
Canada's Most Predictable Punching Bags
The Huffington Post piece on overrated authors didn't make Anis Shivani any friends. Jezebel had a rather good take on the article, with their rebuttal "Literary Critic Hates Vaginas, 'Ghetto Volume'". Similar lists were inevitable. I find these lists to be nothing more than opportunities for critics to unleash a hail of insults on those they deem unworthy, somehow, of praise, sales, and awards, and they do nothing to broaden the reading public's understanding or appreciation of literature. (I do, however, see great value in lists of "underrated authors" who can definitely benefit from exposure.)
Today, we get the Canadian list, co-authored by Steven W. Beattie, and if you read his blog That Shakespearean Rag or his other work at all, there will be absolutely no surprises for you here. The same old complaints about the same old authors appear. How Michaels and Ondaatje* engage in overly complex tricks of language... oh excuse me, I mean "abstruse metaphoric language and self-conscious, sonorous prose." There are complaints about the derivative nature of Can Lit, which is funny in a third-hand copy-cat list, the details of which have been copy/pasted from previous reviews and blog posts, either verbatim or by rote memory.
Predictably, I want to give some love to Douglas Coupland. In the Canadian list we are also treated to complaints about Coupland's use of irony** and pop culture, which is such a throwaway Amazon Review reading of his work. In my discussions of Coupland, I don't pay overmuch attention to these issues. Yes, these are elements of his work, but they're set pieces, not the characters or novel itself. I have always enjoyed how much pop culture Coupland puts in his novels, because that's the world I live in. I pay attention to all aspects of the world around me, not just the highbrow. I don't pretend to live in an ivory tower and I would never want to. That Coupland writes from down on the ground makes his novels work with me, instead of making me work for them. And sometimes that's okay. Every novel doesn't need to be A.S. Byatt.
To miss the attention Coupland pays to human interaction, and the consequences of the lack of that interaction, is to call Coupland "overrated." If you don't see his funny, weird, and often intensely lonely people for the recognizable human beings they are, then you're missing the point entirely. I haven't loved every novel‡, but when he gets it right -- as in Eleanor Rigby or The Gum Thief -- Coupland can be devastatingly astute about what a commodified culture, overloaded with information, does to our psyche, and how this culture leaves some of us alone, alienated, and clinging to false talismans made of plastic and light.
Edit: I am remiss in not mentioning that Coupland can also be very funny, and has the ability to take our monstrous capitalist productions and turn them into Lego bricks of joy.
To call Coupland "lowbrow"† is to be a self-apologist for not giving enough attention to a writer who would certainly do you the favour of close examination, should you appear in his work.
*I don't find him completely unreadable, but I really don't enjoy Ondaatje.
**Is it ironic that the word "lazy" appears in reference to Coupland, when this list is a pastiche of previously published opinions?
‡Oh, jPod, how sad you make me.
†Ondaatje is too snooty! Coupland is not snooty enough! Perhaps Canadian authors could benefit from a Snoot-O-Meter, to help them meet the exacting specifications of the critical establishment?
Today, we get the Canadian list, co-authored by Steven W. Beattie, and if you read his blog That Shakespearean Rag or his other work at all, there will be absolutely no surprises for you here. The same old complaints about the same old authors appear. How Michaels and Ondaatje* engage in overly complex tricks of language... oh excuse me, I mean "abstruse metaphoric language and self-conscious, sonorous prose." There are complaints about the derivative nature of Can Lit, which is funny in a third-hand copy-cat list, the details of which have been copy/pasted from previous reviews and blog posts, either verbatim or by rote memory.
Predictably, I want to give some love to Douglas Coupland. In the Canadian list we are also treated to complaints about Coupland's use of irony** and pop culture, which is such a throwaway Amazon Review reading of his work. In my discussions of Coupland, I don't pay overmuch attention to these issues. Yes, these are elements of his work, but they're set pieces, not the characters or novel itself. I have always enjoyed how much pop culture Coupland puts in his novels, because that's the world I live in. I pay attention to all aspects of the world around me, not just the highbrow. I don't pretend to live in an ivory tower and I would never want to. That Coupland writes from down on the ground makes his novels work with me, instead of making me work for them. And sometimes that's okay. Every novel doesn't need to be A.S. Byatt.
To miss the attention Coupland pays to human interaction, and the consequences of the lack of that interaction, is to call Coupland "overrated." If you don't see his funny, weird, and often intensely lonely people for the recognizable human beings they are, then you're missing the point entirely. I haven't loved every novel‡, but when he gets it right -- as in Eleanor Rigby or The Gum Thief -- Coupland can be devastatingly astute about what a commodified culture, overloaded with information, does to our psyche, and how this culture leaves some of us alone, alienated, and clinging to false talismans made of plastic and light.
Edit: I am remiss in not mentioning that Coupland can also be very funny, and has the ability to take our monstrous capitalist productions and turn them into Lego bricks of joy.
To call Coupland "lowbrow"† is to be a self-apologist for not giving enough attention to a writer who would certainly do you the favour of close examination, should you appear in his work.
*I don't find him completely unreadable, but I really don't enjoy Ondaatje.
**Is it ironic that the word "lazy" appears in reference to Coupland, when this list is a pastiche of previously published opinions?
‡Oh, jPod, how sad you make me.
†Ondaatje is too snooty! Coupland is not snooty enough! Perhaps Canadian authors could benefit from a Snoot-O-Meter, to help them meet the exacting specifications of the critical establishment?
Recap
All the books I read this year. 50 in total. Almost one a week. My only resolution is to make it 52 or more next year. I might have done it this year, but the enormous Neal Stephenson slowed me down, a lot.
Also, my Top 5 for the year is up at That Shakespeherian Rag, if you're interested.
Also, my Top 5 for the year is up at That Shakespeherian Rag, if you're interested.
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