by Richard Subber | Aug 24, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Books Commentary, Joys of reading, Language
…a “man of letters”…
Book review:
Literary Life: A Second Memoir
by Larry McMurtry (1936-2021)
Simon & Schuster, 2009
McMurtry moves me to want more, read more…
It’s incredibly easy to read McMurtry—I’ve read Books: A Memoir, Walter Benjamin at the Dairy Queen, and now Literary Life. Time after time, it seems that he writes in an off-hand way; thoughts and scenes and chapters can end very abruptly. Yet, the work seems polished. The prose is spare, as Larry acknowledges.
I am titillated by his familiar references to so many authors and works. I would love to be a “man of letters,” as McMurtry claims to be. The draw for me is McMurtry’s immersion in books. I would be thrilled to own 200,000 books. Desperately thrilled.
I’m pretty sure that McMurtry’s passionate engagement with books and authors is a believable lifestyle. His many references to re-reading books is a believable commitment.
Since I retired nearly 20 years ago, I have, from time to time, envisioned taking the pledge to read the entire oeuvre of an author I like. Now I am moved to read McMurtry’s books. I plan to re-read Books and Literary Life to get clues about how to read them. I’ll consider reading his works in order by pub date, except for the Lonesome Dove and Berrybender tetralogies, of course.
I don’t think I’ll be disappointed.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
Will the last monkey cry?
the new reality…
Above all: Poems of dawn and more with 73 free verse poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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by Richard Subber | Aug 20, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Books Commentary, Joys of reading
It all got started in 1665…
A book review is something of value.
At least, it tells you something about a book you haven’t read.
Let’s be candid: if you don’t know anything about the book reviewer, the value—not necessarily the quality—of the review is diminished. (I’d love to have an encyclopedia of the multiple reviews of reviewers who do it for a living.)
Book reviews aren’t as old as the hills.
In 1665 the Journal des Sçavans in Paris was a precursor of published book reviews, with non-opinionated summaries focused principally on publications dealing with biology and technology.
What we think of as book reviews can be dated to the 18th century, when magazines (also a new publishing concept at that time) began offering essays about books. An increasing number of books were being published in that era, and this created an audience for the reviews.
The words “book review” made it into print as early as 1861. Harvard professor Jill Lepore notes that “In the 19th century, an age of factories and suffrage, literacy rates increased, the price of books fell, and magazines were cheaper still. A democracy of readers rose up against an aristocracy of critics.” Book reviewing found its niche.
Fun fact: Edgar Allan Poe was a notoriously caustic reviewer in the middle of the 19th century.
In 1900 an anonymous “Veteran Book Reviewer” wrote a piece for The Independent that was titled “Up-to-Date Book Reviewing.” Book reviewing had become a craft.
Today, with universal access to the internet, anybody can be a book reviewer. Fer gosh sakes, some folks think that worthwhile book reviewing is in decline because there are too many books to review.
I’d like to say there oughta be a law.
Ain’t gonna stop me from reading.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
Book review: Tales from Shakespeare
summaries by Charles and Mary Lamb…
Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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by Richard Subber | Aug 4, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Joys of reading, Language
“Each work is new.”
Book review:
The Eye of the Story: Selected Essays and Reviews
by Eudora Alice Welty (1909-2001)
American short story writer and novelist, Pulitzer Prize winner
New York: Random House, 1977
355 pages
The Eye of the Story is lush, literate, filled with almost languid richness.
I can only imagine being so well read that I could recognize all of her references to other writers and the vast literature of novels and short stories. I envy the breadth of her engagement with the world of fiction.
I’m more interested in what she has to say about writing.
“We who encounter words used in certain ways are persuaded by them to be brought mind and heart within the presence, the power, of the imagination” (p. 134).
“Each work is new” (p. 135). Welty is talking about novels, but this also is true, so true, of poetry. She observes that, in the fiction of her contemplation, “words have been found for which there may be no other words” (p. 137).
“The imagination has to be involved, and more—ignited. How much brighter than the symbol can be the explicit observation that springs firsthand from deep and present feeling…” (p. 139).
“It is through the shaping of the work in the hands of the artist that you most nearly come to know what can be known, on the page, of his mind and heart, and his as apart from the others. No other saw life in an ordering exactly like this” (p. 144).
I find affirmation in The Eye of the Story. Welty declares that writing is an art that uses the literally infinite array of words in sequence to create a spectacular, unique exhibition of what’s in the writer’s mind and in her heart.
“Each work is new.” I believe that each poem is unique. Each engaged reader takes a new step on new ground each time he reads the poem.
The poet opens a new window in her mind each time she takes the quill in hand.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
A poem about the right thing
…and the lesser incarnation…
“Vanity”
In other words: Poems for your eyes and ears with 64 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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by Richard Subber | Jul 7, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Human Nature, Joys of reading, Language
Who doesn’t love Bertie Wooster?
I happened on a 1982 review of a biography of P. G. Wodehouse, and I can’t resist believing that the reviewer is a hatefully well-bred person.
Prof. Samuel Hynes very incautiously permits himself to label old P. G. as
” . . . the greatest trivial novelist in literary history . . .”
Egad.
Is he talking about Sir Pelham Grenville Wodehouse (1881-1975), the remarkably gabby genius who created Bertie Wooster and Jeeves?
Is he talking about the guy who makes us love the incurably erratic Wooster? who makes us worshipfully respect the very properly domineering Jeeves who can’t hurt a fly, knows nearly everything and saves Bertie’s bacon every time? who makes us stiffen, suppressing cries of delight, as we absorb the adjectival artistry of the whole bloody Wooster/Jeeves madhouse?
Hynes goes so far as to declare that Wodehouse “created a world without real problems and without human depths.” If you’ve read any of Wodehouse’s work, you know that ain’t true. There’s a bit of Bertie’s passion and despair in all of us, and Jeeves divinely makes it possible for everyone around him to be human.
There’s just one word too many in Hynes’ summary of Sir P. G. Wodehouse: “the greatest trivial novelist.”
Now you know which one it is.
If you want to, click here to read all of Hynes’ comments about Frances Donaldson’s 1982 biography, P. G. Wodehouse.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
Home Team: Poems About Baseball (book review)
Edwin Romond hits another homer…
Writing Rainbows: Poems for Grown-Ups with 59 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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by Richard Subber | Jun 29, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Joys of reading, Language
…the fastidiously chivalrous Sherlock Holmes…
Book review:
The Complete Sherlock Holmes Vol. II
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
Christopher Morley, Preface
New York: Doubleday & Company, Inc., 1953
821 pages
Sherlock Holmes never tires of being a marvel, and Doyle’s prose never ceases to entertain. One other thing: Jeremy Brett is my favorite TV Sherlock Holmes, you can pick your own favorite.
Every time I pick up this collection of Holmes adventures, I wish that I had picked up Volume I somewhere—I can’t remember how I acquired this slightly battered copy of Volume II, I’m doing my best to take care of it so I can pass it on when I find a young reader who wants it.
I won’t entertain the conceit of naming one of the Holmes stories as “my favorite” because there are too many utterly delectable candidates. Some I like more than others: “Three Pips” comes to mind.
In this Complete Sherlock Holmes I decided to re-read “The Adventure of the Second Stain.” It offers a typical Holmesian maze of fact, conjecture, and potential suspicion. In that context, it’s straightforward enough, and it’s a brisk story with appealing turns. I’m drawn to the final paragraphs which reveal a fastidiously chivalrous element of Holmes’ persona, in his solicitous treatment of Lady Hilda Trelawney Hope. Holmes meant it, twice over, when he said “I am sorry for you, Lady Hilda. I have done my best for you.”
You can read all about it.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
Book review: To Serve Them All My Days
by R. F. Delderfield
A beloved teacher,
you know this story…
Seeing far: Selected poems with 47 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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by Richard Subber | Jun 25, 2024 | Book reviews, Books, Human Nature, Joys of reading, Language
the good folks prevail
Book review:
Saint Martin’s Summer
by Rafael Sabatini (1875-1950)
Pinnacle Press, 1909
270 pages
Saint Martin’s Summer, published in 1909, is a historical romance. This is Sabatini’s signature style. Think of it as a very high-toned beach book…
Spoiler alert: if you think you’re going to get a big helping of heaving bosoms and sweaty ravishment, maybe you should pick another book…
If you are familiar with Sabatini’s novels or his genre, you already know that knowing the ending—that is, anticipating with confidence how the good folks will prevail—is not necessarily an obstacle to full enjoyment.
Consider my most recent reading of Saint Martin’s Summer.
Grenache is the diffident, honorable cavalier sent by the Queen in Paris to contrive the rescue—effect the “enlargement,” do you love the language tones as I do?—of Valérie, the sweetest damsel you can imagine, from her desperate affairs of the heart in the godforsaken backwater of Dauphiny.
The designing Dowager, the feckless Seneschal, the callow son (Marius), and the worldly and unfaithful son (Florimond)—and believe it or not, too much money and power—round out the cast and the motive forces in Sabatini’s completely predictable and marvelously fulfilling mainstay of Romance literature.
Did I mention love? In Saint Martin’s Summer, you will relearn the potency of plighted troth, the lonely loyalty of unrequited love, the degradation of love in the minds of the loveless, the blossom of unexpected love in the heart of a forlorn girl, and the slowly rising heat of first love in the nobly bewildered and barren soul of an older man, who suddenly realizes that he can welcome a better life with an eager bride who is suddenly ready to be a woman.
I guess, technically, I had to mention “spoiler alert” at the beginning of this review. If you’ve read this far, I think you normally don’t pay attention to spoiler alerts, or, in this case, you didn’t mind.
I like to re-read Sabatini (e.g., Scaramouche) because I know how the stories are going to end,
I know what the lovers are going to say,
and I like the way Sabatini tells a story.
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Here’s my first take on Saint Martin’s Summer, after my first reading:
Jason Bourne would be bored in Dauphiny.
Dauphiny is a sleepy, rural French province, but there is occasional sword play, and some moat diving, so Bourne wouldn’t be bored all the way to tears…
Let’s just face up to it, in your classic Romantic novel about 18th century French dowager marquises and blundering bounders and dashing heroes and cherishable maidens and fat, simpering seneschals, you’re going to get more talk than titillation, and more argument than action. So be it.
Sabatini deftly creates his tale of principled, introspective people trying for success, both villainous and otherwise.
His characters have deep appeal—they’re always trying to do the right thing, or at least trying to do a bad thing the right way…e.g., Grenache knows he must save the girl, and he knows he will love her deeply…
They care deeply—about the ones they love, about their success in a milieu that maximizes opportunity for deception and ultimately minimizes the prospect of getting away with a betrayal or self-dealing or moral weakness.
Sabatini is a colorful storyteller,
and he tells a great story about things that count.
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Book review. Copyright © Richard Carl Subber 2024 All rights reserved.
Book review: An Empire on the Edge
by Nick Bunker
The British wanted to win
the Revolutionary War,
but they had good reasons
for not trying too hard…
In other words: Poems for your eyes and ears with 64 free verse and haiku poems,
and the rest of my poetry books are for sale on Amazon (paperback and Kindle)
and free in Kindle Unlimited, search Amazon for “Richard Carl Subber”
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