Phyllis

Unfortunately or fortunately, I watched the 2007 movie version of “No Country for Old Men” before reading the book or any of Cormac McCarthy's other books. The movie does a fine job of following the book and bringing the story to life, other than omittig the meditations by Sheriff Bell interspersed throughout the book. Yet, I wonder if I would have gotten the book as much if I hadn't already seen the movie. It was not that the book was hard to follow, but it does take a little time to get used to Cormac McCarthy's writing style, in which most punctuation is missing. No Punctuation for Old Men? However, I argue that the lack of punctuation is not distracting after you jump into the pool; the style suits the sparse language and harshness of the drug trade. The reader must participate in McCarthy's style or they will be left behind.

Of the three books I read by Cormac McCarthy before the May 2018 Great Books Book Club discussion of “No country for Old Men,” this was, by far, my favorite. The others were “The Road” and “All the Pretty Horses,” each of which explore father/son relationships, torches being passed, and life in a place that was one lawful and is now lawless. Yet none were as nuanced and multi-layered as “No Country.”

The voices we hear in “No Country” are far more well-crafted than they at first appear, from the loving bickering of Moss and his wife, Carla Jean, to the “kindly” of Sheriff Bell (our group referred to “kindly” as the “discommode” of “As I Lay Dying”).

What genre can we consider “No Country?” Is it neo Western, or south Gothic, thriller, or noir? It doesn't feel very Southern Gothic to me (ain't all that Spanish moss and loony aunts wandering the county), but I believe neo Western is the most fitting. There is a clear struggle between good and evil from Bell's perspective and a concern that things are changing for the worse in which good men do bad; in fact, we see parallel actions by Chigurh and Moss (see this article for a more in-depth analysis). Yet, it is also possible to say that “No Country” represents the ebb and flow of the good and bad of human nature, which is an update of Western tropes.

However, no one survives a war and certainly not this war. One could say that “No Country's” world, and, perhaps, the US of the Trump error, is built on sociopathic capitalism, which is it's own type of war. Or, are Anton and the drug trade representative of Communism and the Cold War as would have been viewed negatively in 1980? In either economic system,whatever you have, you're going to lose, as illuminated in the conversations between Moss and hitchhiker, as well as Carla Jean and Chigurh. In fact, no good deed goes unpunished in a world where God is missing and fate has the upper hand over free will. There are no lessons to be learned in the new world and no place for old men; it is only the young who haven't been beaten down and are either too foolish or too optimistic to stop. Yet, at the end, Sheriff Bell is able to confess a long-held secret (what he considers a terrible misstep in his youth) and picks up the torch from his father. Which takes us back to the ebb and flow.

Discussion Questions another member presented for our discussion:

1. One of the first reviews in 2005 described the book as “profoundly disturbing”. What is it about the story and the way McCarthy tells it that is so unsettling? What are its themes? Was the plot hard to follow?
2. The story is set in South Texas. Could it have taken place in another time and place? How does the story deviate from the usual genre (Western). What's with the focus on weapons?
3. What are some of the most striking images and dialogues in the book?
4. Why do you think the author relies on dialogue to advance the story? Did you find the absence of punctuation confusing? How would you describe McCarthy's writing style?
5. McCarthy will often tell the reader that one of his characters is “thinking things over” without revealing what the character is thinking (e.g. Bell on p. 107). What does he gain by leaving out such information?
6. Are there any similarities among the three main characters' points of view? (Chigurh, Bell, Moss). Are they archetypes? Whose internal dialogue was the most compelling?
7. How can Anton Chigurh's behavior be explained? What motivates him? Is he a “true and living prophet of destruction”? (Page 4) In what ways does he challenge Bell's worldview and values? How does he regard his victims? Why does he have such a long conversation with Carla Jean?
8. On p. 220 Moss tells the Hitchhiker, “Things happen to you. They don't ask first. They don't require your permission.” Have things “happened” to Moss or does he play a more active role in his fate? Does his life seem fated?
9. What motivates Bell to attempt to protect Moss and Carla Jean? In what ways does Bell's past affect his present actions? The story takes place in 1980. Do you agree with his belief that the country and society were/are getting worse? How do you view Bell at the story's end?
10. Are there any characteristics unifying the women in the story (Carla Jean, Loretta, the Hitchhiker, Aunt Caroline)? Are they archetypes, also?
11. Is the story ultimately redemptive or does Evil triumph? In Bell's final dialogue with Uncle Ellis, they discuss whether G-d has abandoned them. Where is the deity in this story?
12. This book is sometimes taught in conjunction with Plato's Republic, with its questions of morality and justice. Do you see any parallels?

W. B. Yeats, “Sailing to Byzantium”. 1933
I.
That is no country for old men. The young
In one another's arms, birds in the trees,
–Those dying generations–at their song,
The salmon-falls, the mackerel-crowded seas,
Fish, flesh, or fowl, commend all summer long
Whatever is begotten, born, and dies.
Caught in that sensual music all neglect
Monuments of unageing intellect.
II
An aged man is but a paltry thing,
A tattered coat upon a stick, unless
Soul clap its hands and sing, and louder sing
For every tatter in its mortal dress,
Nor is there singing school but studying
Monuments of its own magnificence;
And therefore I have sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium.

I'm certain I would have enjoyed “The Partly-Cloudy Patriot” more if I'd read it when it came out 22 years ago. It is interesting to take a time machine of sorts to snarky, left-leaning commentaries about George W. Bush's first term when Bill Clinton's Presidency wasn't such a distant memory (Bill doesn't get an easy pass from Sarah either). The thing to know before diving in is that this is a collection of barely-related essays unlike the very cohesive “Assassination Vacation.”

What I always enjoy about Sarah Vowell's pieces are historical footnotes that she expands into observations about the quirks of the political system & figures, how odd the US really is, and human weirdsies. In fact, I have sought out historical sites based on a mention in other books of Sarah's.

I have a somewhat personal bone to pick with Ms. Vowell. There's an essay about the underground lunchroom at Carlsbad National Park, specifically the evils of such a thing. Although I could see discontinuing microwave use or certain types of foods, it was actually pretty cool. Plus, if you opt out of the elevator from the visitor center, having a place to take a break and have a snack is really nice. There also aren't that many places for groups to congregate if the Big Room group seating is in use. How much harm would smashing the cafeteria to bits cause?

The audiobook includes several guest readers in a definition to Sarah's characteristic voice, with music thrown in by They Might Be Giants.

The mystery behind “Elegy for Eddie” is more compelling than the last few Maisie Dobbs books.

As in the past few books, too many side characters are introduced that aren't red herrings or move the story along. I would have liked to spend more time amongst the costermongers and less time listening to Maisie waffle about the (lack of) romance with the endlessly dull James Compton. When he tells her he wants her to give up her detective work, she's upset but really quite ho hum about it. I also don't think Maisie's inheritance would have let her run amongst the upper class (especially with her “seedy” day job).

I read the hardcover version and followed up with the audiobook because I heard that Leslie Jones not only “reads” the book herself, but also riffs on what she wrote. So, listening and reading are totally different experiences, but both are very much Leslie Jones.

She is super honest and straightforward about her all facets of her life. There are times where you will cry at the hardships she and her family endured and times where you will laugh and cheer at Leslie's audacity and courage. It's always interesting to me to hear any creative person talk about their inspiration and artistic process, so this book fit that bill.

“The Song of the Ape” is an engrossing, well-written story that delves into the author's inspiration to study primates, unsuccessful historical attempts to teach chimpanzees various human languages, and current studies of chimps in captivity and the wild. Each story about the five main chimps, including the great Little Mama and Higgy to Elgin, Gin, and Cindy, is fascinatingly presented in parallel to stories about chimps being observed in Tanzania and other locations. This is not a stuffy, academic work, but is a book that will appeal to people of divergent interests and will make you interested in what Halloran will uncover next.

Excellent. But, completely insane. Bulgakov's ability to interweave an account of Jesus's final hours from Pontius Pilate's point of view (as well as others), the devil and his henchmen's romp through Moscow, and a satire of Stalinist Russia is impressive. I still cannot account for the talent necessary to pull these seemingly disparate plot lines together without being forced. Frankly, when another book club member recommended this title, I rolled my eyes in mockery and despair. Now, I'm quite happy to have read “The Master and Margarita.”

There are elements of the fantastical that seemed like Shakespeare's “Midsummer Night's Dream,” as well as Lewis Carroll's “Alice in Wonderland.” Behemoth smacks of the Cheshire Cat. I'm unfortunately not familiar with Gogol, who I understand to be a major influence of Bulgakov's.

The scenes set during the sentencing, execution, and subsequent events of Jesus' crucifixion are relatively straight-forward and a pleasure to read, whereas the Muscovite sections of the nicely team with nonsense, violence, and seeming randomness. If only there was an entire novel written in this manner about Biblical occurrences. While these sections are excerpts from The Master's burned, then reborn, novel, the Master himself is but a shell. In some ways, it's hard to understand why Bulgakov's chose to name the novel after two characters who aren't as important as others.

Woland is a fascinating character. He stops (or walks away from) the violence and insanity caused by his crew when it goes overboard. He also is clearly not as powerful as another, higher bring, although it isn't clear whether that is God or another figure.

I like to mix in books aimed at children or young adults with a preponderance of adult-aimed fiction and nonfiction. As I was browsing through the local library's book club shelves, which contain multiple copies of books, I ran across “The Education of Little Tree.” I saw the movie version several years ago, perhaps on the recommendation of my grandmother, or, perhaps because James Cromwell is in it, and really enjoyed it. All signs pointed to read this book!

“The Education of Little Tree” is a charming coming-of-age tale celebrating the connection between an orphaned boy and his grandparents, who teach him both Cherokee and Appalachian ways (you know: hunting with dogs, living in the woods, making moonshine, etc.). His grandmother also reads Little Tree and his grandpa great literature supported by regular library trips. At a few points, I found myself crying at touching scenes sprinkled throughout the book. The author's writing is clear and nearly cinematic.

Then, I decided to find out what else the author has written. Forrest Carter, I learned, is the pen name of Asa Earl Carter, who wrote things like “The Outlaw: Josey Wales” and George Wallace's “segregation now, segregation tomorrow, and segregation forever” speech (!!). And was in the KKK. But, what ho, cognitive dissonance! That spine on the book is marked as nonfiction/autobiography. So, since 1991, there have been many articles and research showing that Forrest Carter was, indeed, Asa Carter, but my library has not reshelved the book! Do I contact a librarian?! Do I now find the book less enjoyable?

It does make me wonder if Forrest is a tribute to Nathan Bedford Forrest, first Grand Wizard of the KKK and a figure there's no question Asa Carter would have been aware of him. Ugh. Was Asa Carter's rebranding of himself as a Cherokee an attempt to turn away from his racist past, or was it just a money-making scheme? Ugh again. Is the book's message that Native Americans are too different and must live separately from non-Native Americans because they are too wild to intermingle?!

Critics argue that the characters in the book are stereotypical and smack of minstrelsy, although they actually seem to be pretty right on for all of the characters in the 1920-30s; racism, subjugation, and segregation were rampant at that time. Proper education certainly wouldn't have been available to Native American's of Granpa's age. In fact, the villains in the book are generally white people. “Gone With the Wind,” for example, has similar (if not worse) issues with presenting the slave owner's view and justification for slavery; yet, it is a good book and presents the viewpoints that many Southerners had at the time as based on interviews that Margaret Mitchell did with those who had lived through it.

Then I sat back and asked myself if I really enjoyed this book before learning about the author. If I had read this book as an 8 year old, for example, I would have loved the entire book and would have been lobbying my grandparents to start teaching me how to live in the woods. Unfortunately, the great grandfather who distilled his own during Prohibition (and went to jail for it!) was dead long before I was born or I'd have certainly been at him. At the end of the day, I decided to enjoy this book as a work of fiction that I would read to a child or read along with a child, but maybe I'd wait a bit to tell them about the author's background.

I picked up this book after listening to an old Sound Opinions podcast about Chess Records. Both this book and the movie, “Cadillac Records,” were mentioned and accompanied by a selection of great songs from the studio's stars, which made it a must-read.

This book took some time to get through because it is so densely packed. I give the author credit for the amount of research behind the final product, but there are portions of the book that dragged. To bring Chess Records and its artists to life, I listened to each track as it came up in the book. On the plus side, it's a balanced peek into the rise and fall of a small Chicago studio run by Polish immigrants. Check it out if you are interested in blues, early rock, and soul out of Chicago.

I am glad I finally got around to Herman Melville's “Bartleby, the Scrivener.” This is one of the many novellas I selected to hit my Goodreads reading target in the year of COVID. Who can't get to their target when there should be more time for reading? Me, apparently.

Enter Bartleby. I am still thinking about this book, which means it likely deserves more three stars. As someone who is an accountant by day, I am very attuned to how dull and repetitive some day jobs can be.

I was lucky that my first boss, a partner at a CPA firm I worked for right out of college, told me that accounting can be an art. He was not referring to the illegal, your creative, accounting that Enron is well known for. What he meant is that I should look at each job as a way to challenge myself and find better and better ways to serve our clients. I have taken this advice to heart, which has led to a lot of different career choices. Why am I going to all this personal detail?

Because the job of a scrivener, or copyist, is not all that far from a bookkeeper. You do many tasks over and over and, in the days before computers, had to have pretty decent handwriting.

If, one day I were simply to tell any one of my bosses: “I prefer not to,“ I would have been sacked immediately. And, to be fair I would wish to sack an employee of mine if they were to respond seriously in this manner and not proceed with the request I had made.

This little novella, which was Melville‘s last, is an interesting exploration of office life. One wonders how much of this was inspired by Melville‘s disgust with being asked to produce hit after hit, instead of doing the art he truly wish to. The narrator is also an interesting character. He vacillates from frustration to anger to concern to paternalism and back again. Is the narrator intended to represent the good side of capitalism, because he never actually throws Bartleby out on his ear or, is the joke that we can't really take care of those who simply wish not to be? I still have many thoughts about this book, but simply cannot crystallized at all. I can't say it's worth reading this very short work and not just because you're trying to hit a reading goal for the year..

“Sipsworth” gives the reader just that. We first meet Helen when she returns to her hometown after decades in Australia. Each day is a set routine centered around tv and radio programs or mealtimes. Other than limited interactions at the grocery store, Helen's life is lonely. The first few chapters are an accurate depiction of the daily lives of many elderly people, which seems to have put some readers off the book.

After finding a mouse nesting near a discarded toy almost identical to one her son played with, Helen begins opening her heart back up to the world and life after being so close to turning her back on both. She's able to reexamine happy and sad moments from her life and realize that there is something to look forward to. Having been a spinster cat lady for many years, I can understand the positive impact of a pet.

In the acknowledgements, the author mentions that he wrote the story while at a hospital in London. While no mice came to stay during his visit, it's pretty interesting to imagine Van Booy being inspired by an older staff member and their possible life outside the hospital.

After hearing an interview with the author, I was excited to read this book and delve into the various facets of New York City's music scene in the early to mid 70s interlaced with Will Hermes' anecdotes. However, the execution suffers. The book is organized chronologically with a few paragraphs dedicated to an important song, album, or other event. So, you might read about an artist putting out a record on page 71 and then not hear about them again until page 208. I never felt as though there was enough depth to any part of each tidbit and there weren't enough personal observations from the author to really tie it together. I don't know if the book would have been better if it were organized differently or if the book tried to cover too much, but it isn't one I can recommend, unfortunately.

Many other reviewers captured my sentiments about this book, but I'll add a few cents anyway. I was lured in by the idea of a modern take on the marriage plot. Unlike the heroines in novels by Austen or the Brontes, however, Madeleine is an incredibly flat character. There's little presented to redeem her and I disagree with the author that she's the post-feminist representation of Emma Woodhouse or Elizabeth Bennet. Even when those characters behaved foolishly or unthinkingly, they realized the error of their ways and atoned for it or took off the blinders that hindered them. Madeleine is closest to Anna Karenina, in my opinion, because she's just a pretty shell trying to force what she can't have into the life she believes she ought to have, although she doesn't end up under a train. Perhaps, that's another reason she's so unsympathetic and dull. Leonard and Mitchell are somewhat more fleshed out, but they just can't breathe life into a book about nothing. A bigger problem with the book is the amount of time it takes to wade through needless exposition. Did I really need to wade through almost one CD for Madeleine to get up and open the door? Am I really supposed to believe that the important phone call Madeleine gets a few minutes before graduation didn't actually take an hour, as opposed to maybe 5 minutes in the book?? The entire sequence pre-graduation is quite ridiculous, in fact.

One useful fact gleaned from this book is that 7Up once contained lithium! So, there's that, and the audiobook version took up a several commuting hours.

My 11-year old quasi-stepson's literature class read this book and I decided to read along with him.

While I thought the book would be good, I was blown away by the author's ability to combine the pathos of growing up a middle child and one with a few physical differences that made him the target of bullies.

There are some great family scenes with beautifully drawn characters that leap off the page at you. I also laughed out loud at so many points and found myself crying at others.

This is a great book for middle grade readers up to adults and I look forward to other reads from Christopher Paul Curtis.

“A Farewell to Arms” is a largely biographical depiction of Hemingway's experience as an ambulance driver in Italy during World War I, as well as his romance with a nurse who cared for him during his recuperation from injuries sustained during a mortar attack. During a tour of his childhood home in Oak Park, IL several years ago, I learned more about Hemingway's WW1 life and was intrigued to read “AFTA.” However, I didn't get around to it until my Great Books book club selected it for the November read (Veteran's Day!!).

Interestingly, many reviewers have commented on their displeasure with yet another prototypical Hemingway hero. Frederic Henry does display some “manly” characteristics, but often these behaviors often arise in the face of fear and uncertainty. “Manly” behaviors are expected of soldiers in wartime. Was Frederic Henry really brave? Or was he just a human in a rather scary situation, sometimes sitting and waiting for hours, making pasta in a tin bowl (or was it a helmet?), foraging for wine in abandoned farmhouses. He didn't always exhibit grace under pressure, Hemingway's hallmark character trait, such as the quite shocking scene in which one of his fellow soldiers is shot for attempting to desert. Really, Hemingway uses the novel as a vehicle to show just how tedious and troublesome war is. It is not glamorous. It is not something over which soldiers have control regardless of their individual bravery. It changes participants in ways they would rather not be changed, both physically and mentally.

Love, similarly, isn't shown as perfection and happy frolicking in a meadow, despite some rather idyllic scenes for Frederic and Catherine. Well, I don't know how idyllic hospital sex is night after night, but it was likely a reaffirmation of life after seeing so much carnage. Their relationship begins as a game and a rebound , develops into true feelings masked by sometimes flippant banter, and then ends tragically. Some might argue that Frederic never really loves Catherine, isn't terribly upset about their child being stillborn, and uses their relationship as an escape from the vagaries of war. But, maybe his seemingly cold reaction at the end are a form of shock after the one-two punch of both his child's and his love's death following up the initial PTSD caused by WW1.

All of these themes are encompassed in Hemingway's sparse, journalistic writing style, which really keeps the pace of the novel moving and makes the reader feel as thought they are there on the battlefield, in the hospital, on the lake escaping to Switzerland. His modernist reaction to his mother's wordy Victoriana certainly shows in this novel. Some folks now find his rat-a-tat phraseology jarring and annoying, but I found it tight and full of meaning. His minimalism took ages to craft and isn't as simple as the reader at first may think. While the dialogue may seem a little dated, it is representative of how an average person talked at that time, including slang.

PS - I should have written my review when I finished the novel instead of waiting a week and a half. I know I had more to say, so I hope to come back and update the review if my brain remembers what particularly struck me.

Ooh, this looks fun! Let me know your thoughts.

“Smilla's Sense of Snow” is a little hard to get into. The first few chapters are seemingly disjointed, perhaps in an attempt to bring us into Smilla's way: to throw up walls with everyone she meets. But, we learn, there's a payoff to jumping the hurdles she and the book put up. Beyond are vivid memories of her strong mother; the brutality and beauty of life in Greenland; and what it is to be a forever immigrant, never quite at home and subject to the modern caste system in Denmark and associated colonial attitude to Greenland. Her relationship with a little boy that lives in her building; it is his death that ultimately pulls Smilla out of social hibernation.

At heart, Smilla is a hunter who changes her outward focus and inner thoughts to think like her target. She uses clothing as social armor and a mask for what she really thinks and feels. As the book goes on, we can see that Smilla could have learned more hunting skills from her Inuit mother (one memory recounts how Smilla's stomach turned doting a hunt as a child).

Some of the characters use a deep understanding of nature to arrive at a solution. Stella and her sense of snow and ice, which she accurately uses to understand what has happened and is happening. Benedicte Clahn and her knowledge of tide tables broke a post-World War II code. It is often the people who turn away from nature that fail in the book's world.

This is definitely the first book I've read that includes stories of Inuit life and how Danish colonialism has affected the Inuit people. Although the author doesn't have an Inuit background, my guess is that he knows or has talked to many of the Inuit people to develop parts of the story.

Until Smilla gets on the ship, the story is well-paced and surprises appear around each corner; sometimes Smilla's plan is a surprise and sometimes it's who she is chasing that startles the reader.

However, once on the ship, the story drags and is bogged down by literal snow and rather ridiculous sequences. The fact that the mechanic wasn't what he said is hardly a surprise given hints at a richer, well-travelled life in the first third of the book. But, his appearance on the ship as the important “fourth person” was silly, as was his intended purpose.

The ending of the book was rather unsatisfying and unbelievable, even for a thriller. So, despite an excellent first half with excellent characterization, the second half dragged the book down to 3.4 stars. It's still worth a read, despite its shortcomings.

I originally remember seeing this movie at the video store (yep, I'm that old) and never got around to seeing it despite liking the hugest bulked actors. Recently, Goodreads had a list of winter reads and I thought, why not? Anyway, it's time to get around to the movie!

Since “Fingersmith” was published over two decades ago, the folded white gloves gleaming from a rich brocade table have both beckoned and dismissed me. Sometimes, I build up a book in my head when I should just pick it up and read it. So, now that it has been a few years since cozying up with a nice Victorian book, I finally decided to open up “Fingersmith” this cold, snowy January. I was hooked in almost right away by the unusual favor shown young Susan Trinder, by the warm and riotous kitchen at Mrs. Sucksby's ramshackle London house, and by the colorful language. Relatively quickly, we learn that Susan is to be involved in a carefully-laid swindle and that she must throw off her coddled upbringing and try to act. From there, Waters leads us in and and out of winding passageways, streets, and roads, winding up more than one delightful twist. You know an author has you in the palm of their hand when you put down a book after you've been shocked by a turn of events. The real fingersmith is Sarah Waters herself, tricking you with slights of hand.

Recently, I have been oppressed by authors who throw in point-of-view changes to try to make the plot or characters more interesting, but fail by creating fluffy filler often devoid of a true, separate voice and mind. Fingersmith is a great example of how multiple points-of-view ought to be done; Waters knows how to situate the reader in more than one character's head, even if I was jarred each time there was a switch.

Waters states quite clearly that the basic plot of “Fingersmith” was stolen (her words!) from Wilkie Collins' wonderful and, at the time it came out, sensational “The Woman in White.” Waters has expanded the story to a delightful level, weaving in more characters and taking us into places “TWIW” did not. And the author has given us the true point of view of women of the time, who were often pawns and had little power of their own, who often had to wait seemingly interminable amounts of time, which many modern readers cannot fathom. And, intentionally, Waters brings us into the feelings and thoughts of women who love another woman at a time it was not allowed. To show the reader often-ignored lesbian history.

Now. Let's say you have never read Dickens or “The Woman in White.” This book is just as enjoyable a romp through grimy 1860s London and out to a crumbling country estate, which we learn is more of a prison than the relative poverty and constant grift of the house of a band of thieves.

Booker interview with Sarah Waters 20 years after publication with interesting peaks into her writing process, inspiration, and even discarded story ideas: https://thebookerprizes.com/the-booker-library/features/fingersmith-at-20-inside-the-archive-with-sarah-waters

According to my own review of Charles Portis' “Norwood,” I had already read “True Grit.” After receiving a copy from the library for an upcoming classics book club, I opened up the book to refresh myself and found that I had, indeed, not read this book!

And I'm super happy I finally have. Mattie Ross is one of the best characters I've read in a long time. It is something wonderful to follow a 14-year-old girls trail of revenge, and meet all the people she does in what was then the Wild West (Eastern Arkansas). And to hear it all recounted from her at least 25-year vantage point and in her often-deadpan voice, which is sometimes uproariously funny and sometimes utterly tragic.

Honestly, there's a lot to say about this rip-roaring book, but the best thing is just to read it yourself!

On an interesting personal note, I happened to be in Northeastern Arkansas for a family party, so it was interesting to try imagining 1870s Arkansas before Federal highways and modern conveniences.


https://www.arts.gov/initiatives/nea-big-read/true-grit