"A Moveable Feast" by Ernest Hemingway, Revised Edition

I remember being very jealous of Deborah when she picked up her copy of the revised edition of "A Moveable Feast", but it wasn't until I recently read "The Snows of Kilimanjaro" that I actually went out and bought it. I've become fascinated with Hemingway lately, and "A Moveable Feast" is, for me, the perfect way to explore that because not only does the author describe an important period in his life in his own words, but he does so from the perspective of a writer than a biographer. He trims the fat of the stories and changes what needs to be changed because, even though it's not exactly true, he hopes the changes will make it more true. It's written best in one of the Fragments found at the end of this edition, part of an introduction that never was: "This book is fiction. But there is always a chance that such a work of fiction may throw light on what has been written as fact."

The stories in the book chronicle Hemingway's early days of writing in Paris and traveling in Europe. While in Paris Hemingway is exposed the community of writers living there at the time, and in particular he writes about knowing F. Scott Fitzgerald, Gertrude Stein, Ford Maddox Ford, and some other who I did not recognize but enjoyed very much reading about. Upon reflection one can see the hint of a narrative from the beginning of the book to the end, but for the most part the stories stand alone and are as strong that way as they are considered as a whole.

It must be said that it felt strange reading the revised edition without having read the book as it was originally published. But then, even when it was originally published there had been choices and edits to be made, as it was unfinished at the time of Hemingway's death. Of both editions it is safe to say that there is an amount of uncertainty regarding what the finished product may have looked like. This edition claims, of course, to be more complete or true to character than the original, but this is opinion and not fact. Either way it is valuable to have these stories written by a man in his last days (Hemingway committed suicide in July 1961) looking back on his early days.

All of the hallmarks of Hemingway's style are present in the stories, but one aspect I kept coming back to was the beauty and poignancy of the last lines or paragraphs of the stories. Hemingway's descriptions of his day-to-day life and encounters were not spectacular or showy, but matter-of-fact and interesting. But those last lines made me pay special attention, as they usually pulled the concept together, making the story about more than what it was about.

"The Snows of Kilamanjaro" by Ernest Hemingway

I found this book while on a rainy-day walk through downtown Champaign last week. I was enjoying the cold and the spitting mist of rain, but the used book store I passed still looked warm and inviting. Its thickly carpet floors that absorbed every sound and turned everything into a whisper and closely-packed maze of shelves were too good to pass up. I don't know how long I wondered the stacks skimming over handwritten notes and signs that signified obscure categories such as, "British History, 1822-1907, Naval" and "New Age, Aquarius". Eventually I found myself in the section simply marked "Fiction" and I looked over the shelves, judging books by their covers. Hemingway, of course, stood out for me, and I picked this tiny book with its scribbled hand-written notes and strange posterboard binding, to take home. I'm glad I did.

"The Snows of Kilamanjaro" is a collection of some of Hemingway's short stories. Just like their author's life, the stories cover a variety of topics and take place all over the world. The compilation's titular story was written after Hemingway's first trip to Africa, and centers around a man who is near death, berating himself for never having written all the stories he had planned to write, and all the excuses he had for not writing them. It's a great beginning for the compilation as it gives the rest of the stories just a bit more of an underlying meaning: these were written by someone who wanted very much to tell their stories.

One of the things I like most about Hemingway's writing, and which is especially evident after reading a series of short stories, is the way carefully lifts his characters into the light. He turns them slowly and examines them, letting the light bounce off of them how it may, and then just as quietly and carefully, sets them back down into the dark corners, which is where he seems to find most of his characters. Sometimes the stories are nothing more than a brief, but revealing, glimpse into another life.

The last story, however, is different from the others in that it has a well-defined plot. "The Short Happy Life of Francis Macomber" is dependent on the sequence of events as much as it is dependent on its characters. They combine powerfully though and the story stands out from the rest because of this. I haven't chosen a favorite, but "The Short Happy Life" is certainly in the running.

But the small hits of short story have turned me into a junkie; instead of re-reading "The Sun Also Rises" for the 1,985,732nd time, I picked up the restored edition of "A Moveable Feast" today. Hopefully I can get my fill of Hemingway's prose while learning a little more about the man himself. Looking forward to it.

No-Page Books

This is a fun writing prompt from Trisha's blog.

The idea is to come up with titles for books that would have no pages. Here are my five:

1. Doomsday Predictions That Have Come True

2. Harpo Marx: The Monologues

3. The Anorexic's Cookbook

4. Iraq's Best Nude Beaches 2009

5. Hard Work, Determination, and Skill: The Paris Hilton Story

"Outliers" by Malcolm Gladwell

I first became aware of this book when Paul mentioned it on his blog a while back. I picked it up and it sat on my bookshelf for a few months, but finally read it yesterday. I enjoyed the book, and will be reading the author's other books, The Tipping Point and Blink.

Outliers studies all of the factors that lead to great successes (things that lie far outside the normal range) that have nothing to do with the people themselves. The common belief is that there are some people who were born into poverty, for example, and were able to achieve great feats- and wealth- with spirit and determination. While strong spirit and determination are certainly factors, they are probably less responsible than is generally thought.

An example from the beginning of the book states that most (an overwhelming number, in fact) of Canada's upper league and professional hockey players are born in January, February, or March. Are people born at the beginning of the year more innately talented at hockey than someone born in September? Of course not; but it turns out that the cutoff date for youth leagues is January 1. Someone who turns ten on January 2 is in the same league as someone who doesn't turn ten until October or November. That extra year of physical maturity often leads to team scouts picking these boys for higher league teams, where the boys practice more and receive more and better coaching. By the time they're eighteen they actually are better than their later-born counterparts, but it all started with being a little older when the league started.

The book is full of examples and stories that illustrate that the world works on a much larger and more complicated scale than we often consider, but in the end this provides more complete and rational answers. Are Asians better at math by sheer virtue of being Asian? No, but a different number system might be a start, along with rice patties. (You'll have to read the book in order to put all of that together, but I assure you, it makes quite a bit of sense.)

In then end, that's what I took away most from the book: stuff makes sense if you look deeply enough. If you see a pattern, there's a reason. The outliers in the world, statistical anomalies like Canadian hockey players, Bill Gates, the Beatles, and the fact that fourteen of the seventy-five wealthiest people of all time were born in the United States between 1831 and 1840- they all make sense. And to me, the greatest reward of learning is the hope that, eventually, it'll all make a little bit more sense.

"The Old Patagonian Express" by Paul Theroux

One good thing that I did take away from Bryson's Notes from a Small Island was curiosity about an author he'd mentioned once or twice, Paul Theroux. I had never heard the name before, but apparently Theroux is quite prolific and is considered the source for the best travel writing, especially when it comes to traveling overland by train. I looked over a couple of his titles at Barnes & Noble and settled on The Old Patagonian Express.

Theroux, studying a map at his home in Massachusetts, is able to trace a train route from Boston all the way through the Americas into the heart of Patagonia, the southern portion of Argentina. The story begins aboard a Boston commuter train and, sure enough, ends in the dusty backwaters of Patagonia ("Nowhere is a place," writes Theroux). The journey in between the two points- more important, of course, than the destination- is full of colorful characters, adversity, and some danger, all expertly and fascinatingly described by Theroux.

Some- if not most- of the places Theroux visits on his way are not beautiful; the landscapes are often barren and the people who live there are tough individuals, usually living in poverty. Despite all of this, Theroux maintains a narrative tone and though the landscape varies very little at times, he is always able to keep his observation fresh. He does not repeat himself, as Bryson did, but instead keeps a keen eye. The writing itself is often more interesting than the places it describes.

But that is not to say that Theroux does not find himself on some adventures, too. The riotous and frightening atmosphere of a South American soccer match, the border-crossing made in a hitched ride, and his experiences with train travel in general are only a few. My favorites are the story of an Irish ex-priest ("I wish I could, but I can't write. I'll tell you what, Paul- you write it. It would make a good story, wouldn't it?") and Theroux's time spent with the famous writer and poet Jorge Luis Borges.

To say that The Old Patagonian Express is about Central and South America is inaccurate. It's a book about traveling. I often think about the days of travel before the printed word: those who did travel also took on the responsiblity of carrying news and descriptions from place to place. They were welcomed guests who were expected to "sing for their supper", to share their exciting, interesting, and alien stories. Reading this book was like that. It was like inviting someone into your home to tell you about a place you've never been, equal parts entertainment (which is not to say fiction) and education (which is not to say boring).

Na, na na, na na na na, na na na na ...

This is awesome. I would have loved to be there.

"Notes from a Small Island" by Bill Bryson

Bill Bryson, one of my favorite authors, wrote Notes from a Small Island about a trip he took through Great Britain. He had lived in the country for a number of years and the trip was born of a desire to see much of lovely England before he and his wife moved back to the States. I've been reading this book on and off for a couple of months and I've finally gotten around to finishing it. Actually, saying I've finished it gives the wrong idea; I've finished with it. I've gone as far as I'm willing to go right now. I'm about fifty pages from the end and, as of right now, I give up. It's been a profound disappointment, Mr. Bryson, and I'm not sure who or what to blame.

I've really tried with this book because of my fondness for many of Bill Bryson's other writings. He has a wry sense of humor that I appreciate and I usually find that his insights on the places or subjects he's studying are homespun, common sense-ical, and instantly relatable. The Mother Tongue is an illuminating and endlessly fascinating look into the origins and structure of the English language. He manages to give the language character, with a history and personality all its own. His Short History of Nearly Everything should be required reading for every parent with an inquisitive child or anyone who takes being called "curious" as a compliment. (Which it is.) Last but not least, of course, is Neither Here Nor There: Travels in Europe. I've read this many times and I am always delighted in the way in which he explores and enjoys the European land-and-cityscape.

Unfortunately, most of what makes his other writing charming and entertaining is either absent from Notes from a Small Island or it serves only as a minute diversion from what is otherwise just a miserable trip. His descriptions of the cities he visits are all pretty much the same. In fact, I can summarize almost every chapter for you right now:

Bogford-Upon-Lilyshire had such a charming ring to it that, upon seeing it on my map, I knew that I'd have to have a look. I was very excited on the trainride there but, unfortunately, I was disappointed upon disembarking. Apparently, the architects of the late seventies decided to blight what was almost certainly once a quaint village with a glass-and-plastic shopping mall and vast expanses of empty car parks. I thought first I'd try to get lunch but the only shop open was an overpriced teahouse, where I ate anyway without enjoying it. I walked through the town square (now dominated by the massive department store), but the scenery was hideous and the weather was still cold and rainy (surprise). I decided to call it an early night. I booked a room in a horrible hotel and left early the next morning.

This is exactly how he describes most cities, to the point that I now picture every small British town in exactly the same way: unattractive and without redemption. After reading much of it, I've decided that the real problem is that the book shouldn't have been written at all, either because England really is that unattractive or Bryson finds it so. I've never been to any town mentioned in the book, so I can't tell which is true. But I know that I didn't enjoy reading about it.

I love travel narratives and I while I don't think that every place should be described with glowing affection or exaggerated charm, I think that an attempt should be made to enjoy a place. And if it truly cannot be enjoyed, then somewhere around the third chapter Bryson should have said, "Forget it, I'm going someplace both I and the reader can get into." At the very least, even if a place isn't absolutely adored, there should be some variety beyond varying levels of disappointment.

I continue to recommend many of Bill Bryson's other works, but unless you're planning some sort of Masochistic Get-Away for One, you should probably just skip Notes from a Small Island. And if this post seems a bit whiny and critical it's because I just spent a half hour reading the damn thing.

PS- One good thing that came out of the book was Bryson mentioning an affinity for a travel writer named Paul Theroux. I picked up Theroux's The Old Patagonian Express. Looking forward to reading that!

"Amusing Ourselves to Death" by Neil Postman

The subtitle to this book, while lacking the title's shock value, is probably a little more relevant: Public Discourse in the Age of Show Business. Postman's book, published in 1985, details the way in which television affects American culture, as America is the leading producer/consumer of television. A comparison made throughout warns that we are not likely to have our culture destroyed by Orwell's Big Brother, which would have to be forced on us, but by Huxley's soma, which would choose and adore.

The theme of the book is that the way information is transmitted affects the information itself, as well as the society in which it is transmitted. The printed word, for example, lends itself to lengthier discourse, so that the person writing it is required to make a well-supported argument and the person reading it must examine and consider that argument. Information had to be relevant, important, and subjected to at least some basic form of logic. With the telegraph, however, information did not have to be relevant, it simply had to be there. News could travel from Maine to Texas almost instantly; nevermind that people in Texas didn't really need to know what was happening in Maine. It wasn't relevant to their lives.

Jump to television, which takes the same idea of instantaneous, around-the-world information and makes it available 24 hours a day. Bookended by thrilling music and read by attractive people, the news has very little to do with your life other than the entertainment it provides in between commercials. According to Postman, TV programming is our main source of public discourse, and it doesn't need to answer to logic, relevance, or even importance.

I largely agree with Postman's views. TV is our society's primary source of discourse, and this has certainly led to a mentality that demands that something- anything- be entertaining above all else. Tackled specifically in the book are news, politics, education, and religion. I found myself nodding with Postman's assessments, sometimes realizing that I had often thought or felt the same thing myself.

I ranted previously that televisions are everywhere. I think now that, more specifically, my gripe wasn't with the box itself, but the fact that we want it to be there. We think it's necessary. There's almost a sense of, "What else is there?"

Over the last few days, I've been trying to apply Postman's ideas to a younger form of discourse: the Internet.* The Internet, of course, laughs at relevance and logic is reduced to a few scattered rants in user forums and (gulp) blogs that no one need ever read, much less consider seriously. But I think that the Internet, while no angel, is different than television rather than an exaggeration of it. For one thing, it's so big- it can be anything. When people choose their own irrelevant information, does that create some sort of relevance in itself? And is the prerequisite of entertainment sustained on the Internet as it has been on the TV screen? If not, what prerequisites are there for information on the Internet? That is, how does the medium of Internet affect the information it transmits?

One example I've thought about in the past is the idea of online classes, and how popular they seem to be becoming. I think the breaking point for me were Public Speaking and Spanish classes offered online. Postman notes that to change the medium of information without expecting the information itself to transform is ridiculous. Ask just about anyone who's seen the movie version of their favorite novel. And can the Internet be a classroom? When a teacher is in a classroom, he expects to teach. A student expects to learn. What each actually does may vary, but there is little doubt as to the intention of the entire process.

Q: What do you do in a classroom? A: I go to class, that's all.

Q: What do you do online? A: Anything I want.

These are a few brief points that have interested me for a while and were illuminated in "Amusing Ourselves to Death". If this entry is scattered and long, it's because I've been thinking, and will continue to think, about the ideas in this book. I suppose that's the point, after all.

* - I hereby suspend any and all irony related to the nature of critiquing the Internet on a blog.

"The Sun Also Rises", and a Fourth Question

"The Sun Also Rises" is my favorite book. I usually hesitate to name a favorite so explicitly, usually opting instead to name my Top 5 (Top 5 movies, songs, banana-based desserts, what have you). But life is short, I'm told, so I'll come right out and own my love of "The Sun Also Rises". It's my favorite.

Because of this fact, writing a short blog on the book is a bit like writing a short blog entry about a good friend; there's no way to convey the nuances of the relationship or to make someone else understand why such things are important. However, having re-read the book just recently for the zillionth time, I felt compelled to jot down a few ideas.

First of all, the descriptions of Paris, Pamplona, and the Spanish countryside are priceless. The descriptions are not florid or ornate, but lean and basic. The sensation of 'being there' is much stronger because of this. From the nightly walks around Paris from the point of view of a jaded but content expat to the sights and smells of the woods on a fishing trip on the Irati, the book is a mini-vacation, a get-away for the mind.

Other parts of the book are like a good, melancholic party. There is much drinking and laughter, some fighting, some hurt feelings, followed immediately by more drinking and laughter. Just reading some of the fiesta scenes is enough to give you a pleasant hangover.

Finally, of course, are the characters. The damaged, conflicting characters. They're wonderful, like awful friends whom you just can't stay away from. I try to figure them all out with each read, and I come up with different answers every time.

There's more, but it's mine and I won't share it. I encourage you to giveA the book a read (or a second reading) and see what you take away from it!

A Fourth Question

This question doesn't come from "The Big Book of Questions" but from a book I saw at Barnes & Noble called "My Last Supper". The book asks 50 great chefs the following questions:

1. What would you choose as your last meal?

2. Where would you choose to eat it?

3. With whom?

I am constantly revising and reconsidering my answers to these questions, and often do so when I'm bored or killing time. Today I thought I would eat roast suckling pig outside, on a terrace over a Spanish or Italian vineyard. There'd be several bottles of wine and dessert ... dessert would be a warm berry cobbler a la mode. I'd dine alone or with all of my siblings. The answers to the first two questions vary from day to day, and the third answer never changes. This is one of my favorite questions, so I'd love to hear everyone else's answers!

PS- Okay, I know it's been on your mind, so here they are:

1. Banana Cream Pie

2. Bananas Foster

3. Toasted Banana Bread w/ Butter

4. Chocolate-covered Bananas

5. Banana Pudding (sliced bananas are a must!)