Five books # 2

Last time I said that I was able to read only five books in the last couple of months. The last two weeks, though, have been a fruitful time for me since I was able to read five more. And good books they are.

1. Libra by Don DeLillo - Around six years ago I bought DeLillo's Mao II on a whim, barely knowing who he was other than being a good writer. I tried reading it, and got around to page 40 before giving it up and putting it down. It was difficult. There was no discernible plot, no protagonist, and the sentences were constructed, well, bizarrely. It took me a couple of years to know exactly what his style was called: postmodern. Since then, I've read Barth, Faulkner, Pynchon, and a lot of other writers with prose that is almost inscrutable and really complex. Before reading Libra, I've been used to DeLillo's personal style, having read (and hopefully understood) three other novels of his, including the aforementioned Mao II.

That being said, Libra has been my favorite DeLillo novel so far. I thought White Noise would be his best, since that novel cemented his status as a great novelist, but Libra was a better reading experience, and also has an actual plot. I still have Underworld here to take on, his longest and widely considered to be his masterpiece, but I'm not ready to read it... yet.

The fictionalized story of Lee Harvey Oswald from his adolescence to that historic day in Dallas when he allegedly killed JFK was surprisingly gripping and full of pathos. His character, although deeply flawed, was sympathetic at the same time, and whatever he did was rooted in something more sinister, almost justifying his actions. He was never a good husband to his Russian wife, but I was made to believe that he was a victim of circumstance, not of inherent evil. The final few chapters are as engrossing as a good paperback thriller can provide, but of course with better writing.

I was also reminded of Oliver Stone's film JFK, with his own attempt in explaining the assassination. It was a very good movie, like this book, for having this thought in mind: It's not what you say, it's how you say it. I doubt that Stone, being the paranoid that he is, had his facts straight when he wrote the script for his film, but it doesn't matter. It was really well-made, and I say the same for this novel.

2. Saturday by Ian McEwan - I'm going out on a limb and say that I'm a veteran of this genius of a writer. Someone told me that his prose is too poetic for its own good, which I can't deny. But I'm a sucker for his prose and his oh-so-clever endings, so I was expecting a good read from this novel set in post-9/11 England. It's one day in the life of this very successful neurosurgeon, with a very successful wife (lawyer), a very successful daughter (poet), and a very successful son (jazz musician). One of the questions posed in one of those literary blogs is how can you sympathize with a family that is idealistically perfect, and expect us to feel for them while they're in trouble? Therein lies McEwan's gift for making us do just that, giving its protagonist a sense of vulnerability, making him as human (and humane) as any other person, which puts the story in a whole different perspective. We care for him and his family, and we even share with some of his opinions. The funniest part of the novel is how the protagonist hates reading fiction and considers it a waste of time, this coming from a writer who's so good at creating beautiful passages in his own fiction. I'm sure McEwan was aware of this, and it was a stab of that IRONY (!) that comes with the best novels.

Regarding reading McEwan, I don't suggest starting with Atonement, unless you'd want to read it again. Atonement is a period piece that was somewhat of a departure for him. Warm up to him by reading Enduring Love first or this one, as both employ his overall style and tone. I think of Ian McEwan foremost as a suspense novelist with impeccable writing abilities.

3. The Nuclear Age by Tim O'Brien - Every book of his I've read is so different from each other that, apart from its similar themes (the Vietnam War chief among them), I think each is written by a different writer. The Things They Carried was full of deep emotion, In the Lake of the Woods was so dark and bleak, and this one is just, to put it bluntly, absurd. Sometimes it works, most of the time it feels contrived and forced. I could compare this to Catch-22 in its humor, but Heller's novel was simply funnier and more relevant. In this novel, there's a part where a boy goes to a therapist, and the therapist just loses it and the boy convinces him to get help. This premise could have been funny, but in the hands of O'Brien, the exchange between the boy and the therapist is like something out of a bad Mel Brooks comedy (I'm thinking of Robin Hood: Men In Tights). Pass on this one. Read his classics instead, those being The Things They Carried and Going After Cacciato (which I haven't read, but I will after this stinker has gone out of my system). No amount of good writing can compensate for labored humor.

4. The Dying Animal by Philip Roth - Why the hell do I get so depressed after reading a Roth novel? When I read the synopsis for this novella, it is said to be his most erotic novel to date. I said to myself, "Oh cool. Eroticism. No philosophical arguments on mortality and pessimistic views on aging and being in the minority. I may have a fun time." So what do I get? Yes. A couple of erotic episodes and more rants about being old and senile. But that erotic episode involving an old professor and his student's blood? Classic. Only Roth can think of such depraved perversity. As usual, his writing is out of this world. There's an equation I made to describe him, but I'll have to put it in words: Philip Roth is greater than Saul Bellow, and Jonathan Safran Foer can't hold a candle to both.

5. Hard Revolution by George Pelecanos - What a way to distill myself from going all literary than to read a conventional thriller. But this is George Pelecanos, folks. Only writer I can compare him to is Dennis Lehane. If you're not familiar with Lehane, think of the films Mystic River and Gone Baby Gone, since he wrote the novels based from them. Pelecanos isn't as dark, but still has that witty dialogue you only get from the best crime novelists. The novel tells the story of Derek Strange, a hero of some other novels of his. This is sort of a prologue, chronicling his youth until that historic day when Martin Luther King was killed, and the riots broke out. When reading a thriller, I don't expect much, but I at least want my characters to have three dimensions, not just a hero and a villain with a few minor characters getting killed. Some of the villains here are despicable, yes, but there are reasons for being what they are, and Pelecanos draws them out clearly. This is my first Pelecanos novel but won't be my last.

I'm reading a Woody Allen collection right now, so I guess I'll be writing a new post in a couple of weeks or so. It's good to be writing again.