Holy smokes, have I read a lot this summer. I suppose its all relative; after coming out of 8 months of controlled and intense college curriculum, I finally have the time and disposable income necessary to properly tend my addiction to reading. In all honesty, I have bought very few books this summer, most notably borrowing Centennial from my mother which initiated a slight Michener-craze (I followed Centennial with Space). I found Michener's style to be irritating at times (not in a Dan Brown-type sense), however his ability to put the reader in the exact place and time his story is set in is a truly remarkable skill. After awhile I gave up caring about shallow, underdeveloped characters and began to appreciate the fact that Michener was describing a world to me instead of simply telling a story. Quite rewarding.
I found time while I was reading both of these rather large books to polish off two slightly smaller books. Again, I spent no money on either, instead relying upon the generously stuffed bookcase of my girlfriend. Breakfast of Champions by Kurt Vonnegut and Freakonomics by Steven Levitt. Freakonomics reminded me of when, in 9th grade, I decided to read The World is Flat and subsequently worked the word "globalization" into very school-assigned essay I wrote. Easy and fun, equal parts intriguing and idiotic, I believe I read it in a single day (not that I believe speed is a good measure of enjoyment, or even less, understanding). Breakfast of Champions just confused me, but I'm using the strenous nature of last semester as my excuse for lacking the specific literary gravitas to appreciate Vonnegut's adolescent, glandular-disorderesque whining.
After these four books, Sarah reccomended (and lent me) Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet. Chock-full of uncomfortable rape scenes, Pillars of the Earth left me bewildered. I thoroughly enjoyed long sections, only to be interrupted by a random and graphic scene that left me reeling. Perhaps its my over-developed sense of self-righteousness that left me indignant at the sort of content I wouldn't have batted an eye at if I watched on a TV show. Whatever the case may be, I think I will pick up the sequel before the end of the summer.
While I was in Maine, I picked up Crime and Punishment by Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies (a rewritten version of the romantic classic by Jane Austen). Crime and Punishment is, in a way, a sort of self-inflicted torture. It is, by no means, an enjoyable book. However, when I sit down with it on the train ride home and painstakingly march through 20 or 30 pages, I am reminded of my English AP class in high school, as well as the English courses I took during my first year of college. I learned a long time ago that you don't need to like a book to appreciate it, and Crime and Punishment, while terribly dull is one of those books in which runs a electric and exciting undercurrent just waiting for someone to tap into. Reading the introduction (and analysis by contemporary critics), and applying some of my own literary evaluation to it is an exciting, if not terribly rewarding experience. Perhaps the only reason I am having trouble breezing though is because the book was originally written in Russian.
Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, on the other hand, is a simple and fun book which Sarah took upon herself to lend her considerable voice talent to on the car ride back from Maine. As a result, I am waiting until she returns from vacation on the Cape, so that we can finish reading it together.
However, today I made the realization that I may have to commit the rest of my summer to a book that is not my ideal choice: the 8th Edition of Calculus.
Until next time,
Andrew
