A Huxley conundrum

I few months ago, I posted some thoughts on Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and London", a book I thought deserved more than just fame as having been written by Mr. Orwell. Now I do the same for an author often compared to Orwell - Aldous Huxley.

In the list of books we tend to lie about, even unrelated books such as "The Selfish Gene" and "Dreams From My Father" trumped the famous "Brave New World", while the book often viewed to be its rival, "1984", reigned supreme. Huxley's novel was published years before Orwell's, yet despite being better written, more coherent, enjoyable, and all-out better, it is "1984" that time and time again gets the fame. Perhaps unjustly.

How so? Well, I've now read 3 Huxley novels and 3 Orwell novels, two dystopia types among both. Even where Huxley flubs on fluid writing, he brings forth fascinating thoughts and complex ideas ("Island"). And where he ignores plot, he instead brings forth clever, delightful writing, bringing readers to the heart of characters' lives ("Point Counterpoint"). I was originally frustrated by "Point Counterpoint"'s lack of plot, but after now finishing "Island", I think it's part of Huxley's inconsistencies as a writer. Yes, both books were enjoyable reads (though "Island" took a bit of time to plod through), but neither held a candle, in my mind, to the brilliance and wit of "Brave New World".

But where is "Brave New World"? I hadn't even heard of it until I was maybe 15 years old, but I'd heard my entire life about George Orwell and "1984". I read the two books in the same month and was immediately struck by how Orwell's writing was heavy-handed and dull, but Huxley's managed to suck me straight into the book. Later, when I asked others, they agreed - "1984" could have done with a good edit and "Brave New World" was the better book.

Does this mean Huxley is not recognized? Hardly. He is clearly known for his writing, most especially for "Brave New World". And while Orwell should, in my mind, be judged by every book other than "1984", Huxley should be judged by "Brave New World", clearly the best of his books that I've read so far.

Why review?

Two weeks ago, I read the interesting if somewhat lacking Economist article about online book reviews. It's got some important points but unlike most Economist articles, it probably could have had a little more in the way of depth. Like, say, having actually spoken with Amazon or online reviewers. Still, in the comments, reader Matt Rhodes provides a link to another article that goes into much more depth:

There are a number of reasons people might write a review:

1. They are paid to do so (as per the recent case of Belkin hiring people to rate their products five star)
2. They are forced to do so in order to gain some other incentive (TopTable requires you to rate restaurants you have been to in order to gain points for their loyalty scheme)
3. They write reviews to increase their standing in a community (where, perhaps more reviews give them more credibility or access to more features in the online community)
4. They write reviews because they want to look good / impressive / intelligent amongst their peers
5. They write reviews because they had benefit from some and they want others to benefit in the same way from their advice
6. They write reviews because they have something to say

This concise list looks a little frightening to book reviewers, at least at first. For instance, the concept of writing positive online reviews because somebody paid you: Many online reviewers, bloggers or otherwise, get books for free from publishers. Some see this as a form of "buying off the reviewer" (mild rant here). I occasionally get ARCs but have never written a review that didn't completely and accurately represent my opinions. Still, a few reviewers and bloggers have confessed to occasionally bluffing their reviews because they felt bad about expressing their true opinions.

Yet most of us write reviews because of that last single bullet point, which the article agrees with. Reviews are also deemed important from an economic perspective. The article goes into depth about the effectiveness and importance of leaving reviews better than I can; it's quite interesting. Ultimately, while my 3501th review of "Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows" (I haven't reviewed it specifically) may not make a profound difference, if it gives me the feeling that it might somehow help one single reader, I've done my job.

Translation roundup

Many of the books I read are translations from other languages. I think almost everybody reads a lot of translations, after all. Some of the "great classics" come from other languages. I, meanwhile, have simply spent the last few years trying to read as much literature from different corners of the earth, regardless of the language or translation. Still, as I contemplated reading the next Zola Les Rougon-Macquart novel, I thought of how modern and casual the previous ones (translated by different people, but the same publishers) had felt. This stayed on my mind as I read Literary License's post about the Independent Foreign Fiction Prize. I then also encountered the equally interesting Three Percent award for best translated book. All this coupled with the most interesting article from Three Percent (again) about an interesting Diversity Report was enough to raise a few questions regarding translations.

I always hear people talking about the new translations of "War and Peace" but I read the oldest one and it went fine. Dennis Drabelle at Short Stack complains about precisely this, arguing that there are too many other, good books that go ignored. Among them, the recent talk of the town, is "Every Man Dies Alone", (published in Britain as "Alone in Berlin"), which though published in German in 1947, was only just translated and published in English. It's a situation that has baffled many readers and many complained - loudly - about having been denied this book for so long.

And yet we've somehow entered the murkier waters which Three Percent led us to. Books are mainly translated from English. Yes, obviously a number of other language books get their moment in the sun every once in a while ("The Shadow of the Wind" was remarkably popular last year for a Spanish novel) but for the most part it's English speakers who get the fame and glory from writing. Awards that showcase translated books don't plead a better case. After all, if the book wasn't translated into English, the book wouldn't qualify. Thousands of gems must be passed over every year simply because the authors weren't born lucky enough to be native English speakers. Meanwhile, just about every remotely popular English (language) novel gets translated into dozens of languages. It's not nice to think of.

No, I cannot help the fact that I'm an English speaker. I can boast that I speak other languages as well (and do occasionally read in them), but I cannot deny that I read my Tolstoy in English. There will always be excellent books that will fall through the cracks. It's a sad fact. But it's sadder still to know that the reason for this originates from a slightly Anglocentric (again, in terms of the language) view of modern literature. I await my copy of "Every Man Dies Alone" knowing that it's spent fifty years with a wide German speaking audience, but little global recognition. Three Percent's description of translations "like a wealth pyramid" don't help the gloom either. All and all, these make for interesting articles and thoughts. Together, they paint a bleak picture of today's literary world.

NYT and "Thirteen Reasons Why"

Thanks to Jay Asher's amusing and interesting blog, I was linked to this New York Time's article. I can't express particularly well how "Thirteen Reasons Why" made me feel. Some dismiss it as a "teen" book and I know many adults feel uncomfortable with the subject. Some people don't even like the book. That's okay. I encountered a review in which the reviewer complained of the at times whiny nature of the second narrator. And yet I feel there's something very important hiding in "Thirteen Reasons Why". The NYT article phrases it well (emphasis added by me):

With its thrillerlike pacing and scenes of sexual coercion and teenage backbiting, the novel appeals to young readers, who say the book also gives them insight into peers who might consider suicide. “I think the whole message of the book is to be careful what you do to people, because you never know what they’re going through,” said Christian Harvey, a 15-year-old sophomore at Port Charlotte High School in Port Charlotte, Fla. “You can really hurt somebody, even with the littlest thing.”

The NYT article is interesting to view also in terms of the difficulties authors must face in terms of publishing their books. Still, at its core, the article is about "Thirteen Reasons Why", a book that is finally perhaps getting the attention it deserves. The rise has been slow but steady. It's always interesting to see when schools adjust their reading lists to include new books (summer lists are most informative), but unlike simply good books which get a lot of rap, "Thirteen Reasons Why" is, in my mind, important. Yes, there are enough teen suicide stories out there, but none, I feel, reach the same level of clarity and importance that Asher's novel does. It's a book for boys and girls alike, teens and adults, readers and non-readers. Even as some don't appreciate it as I do, I think what's special about Asher's novel is that you leave it with a new understanding for a lot of things that you may never have thought of before. And that right there is why "Thirteen Reasons Why" deserves your attention.

UPDATE:
Commenter Caite raises a good point I belatedly realize I should have mentioned. Those who don't like "Thirteen Reasons Why" feel, for the most part, that aspects of the suicidal premise put far too much blame on others. It's a valid point. Still, I personally found that this "blame game" ultimately adds to the story, as strange as that may sound. This is not a book to make readers feel good about themselves or about people in general. It's very human in that sense. I view this blame, which some dislike for its moral implications, as human in the same way. There is to a certain extent and need for interpretation with the book which can pull either way - one can see it as a real flaw that hurts, or one can see it as a whiny flawed character. In this regard, I cannot promise if you'll be one or the other and thus enjoy the book. I simply know that I did.

A Parisian bookstore

For many readers, there's a certain magic to bookstores. It makes sense, after all. A bookstore is basically a huge room crammed with books. And while some have replaced this tangible bookstores with online stores, I think everyone can appreciate this story. It's a Parisian English bookstore (that sounds more contradictory than it is), one that "houses" writers and readers, and is home to a rich literary history. Jeanette Winterson for the Guardian:

Way back, in 1913, the original Shakespeare and Company was opened by a young American called Sylvia Beach. Her shop in rue de l'Odéon soon became the place for all the English-speaking writers in Paris. Her lover, Adrienne Monnier, owned the French bookstore across the road, and she and Beach ran back and forth, finding penniless writers a place to stay, lending them books, arranging loans, taking their mail, sending their work to small magazines and, most spectacularly, publishing James Joyce's Ulysses in 1922 when no one else would touch it.

Hemingway was a regular at the shop, and writes about it in his memoir A Moveable Feast. His spare, emotional prose makes a poignant story of those early days, when material things weren't so important, and if you could get time to read and write, and live on cheap oysters and coarse bread and sleep by a stove somewhere, then you were happy.

The theory of this alone should make Shakespeare and Company stand out. Presence to Hemingway, Joyce and Kerouac? This is a literal writer and reader's haven. In all honesty, this is rather like all those gadgets we secretly want but aren't willing to pay for - I'd fly to Paris just to enter this store, not least for the stacks of books. Then there's this passage from the Guardian article:

While there are plenty of readers who are not writers, there are no writers who are not readers, and one of the great gifts of this extraordinary bookshop is to keep writers and readers on the same creative continuum. Writers are not reduced to small-time semi-celebrities, and readers are not patronised as consumers. As Sylvia says, "We sell books for a living, but it's the books that are our life."

I rarely like linking and advertising without at least offering some new input, but this is just a story, and a nice one at that. And don't be fooled by the length either. This tale is well worth the time.

The liar within us

Are you a liar? Because if you are, this one's for you:

• 65% of people have lied about reading a book they haven’t, with 1984 being the most popular book to pretend to have read
• 41% of respondents confess to having turned to the last page to find out what happens before finishing a book
• 96% of people admit to staying up late to finish a book

George Orwell’s 1984 tops the list of books that people pretend they have read, in a survey carried out for World Book Day 2009 to uncover the nation’s guilty reading secrets. Of the 65% who claimed to have read a book which in truth they haven’t 42% admit to having said they had read modern classic 1984.

Those who lied have claimed to have read:

1. 1984 by George Orwell (42%)
2. War and Peace by Leo Tolstoy (31%)
3. Ulysses by James Joyce (25%)
4. The Bible (24%)
5. Madame Bovary by Gustave Flaubert (16%)
6. A Brief History of Time by Stephen Hawking (15%)
7. Midnight’s Children by Salman Rushdie (14%)
8. In Remembrance of Things Past by Marcel Proust (9%)
9. Dreams from My Father by Barack Obama (6%)
10. The Selfish Gene by Richard Dawkins (6%)

This, courtesy of "Spread the Word" is (justifiably and unjustifiably) getting quite a bit of attention throughout the web. Both the Telegraph and the Guardian wrote interesting summaries; I'm sure many others have too and I've just missed them. Still, I like this paragraph from the Telegraph:

There are a number of ways to negotiate the minefield that is unread literature. The best recent guide, which, as you'd expect, I haven't read but skimmed, is Pierre Bayard's How to Talk About Books You Haven't Read. The author, a French university literature professor, divides books into those we are unfamiliar with, those we've glanced at, books we've heard about, and books we've read but forgotten. He recommends you bluff freely, skim novels if you want to and if you're challenged about an author you haven't read, just backtrack. But the beauty of the work, the Frenchness, resides in the fact that it's necessary at all. These are coping strategies for a culture which has certain canonical texts which, as Bayard claims, "it's practically forbidden not to have read". Don't you love that idea? I bet you anything the number of books you have to lie about is far longer there than here.

So here's what's interesting: People enjoy books by J.K. Rowling and John Grisham, but don't want to say. And on the other hand, they want to say they've read books like "1984" and "The Selfish Gene" (which, by the way, is the surest way to fall asleep... a most interesting book, but so amazingly boring). Some analyze this as a positive sign for the literary world. Someone mentioned how clearly this is a sign of how important reading is in our society, that we want to tout our knowledge and intelligence. Others find it a little weirder.

I find it a little weirder. While, sure, "War and Peace" is a great book (it's way more readable than it looks) and "1984" has its sparks of genius (even if it's pretty boring often), if someone hasn't read it, they shouldn't feel ashamed to the point of lying about it. I have read 2/3 of the Old Testament but I haven't read "Ulysses" (yet!). The two most surprising titles for me are "The Selfish Gene" (seriously?) and "Dreams From my Father" (they know the man's only been famous for about two years, right?), but this entire survey and the conclusions that emerge - that readers are very self-conscious about their reads - should give most readers quite a bit of food for thought. Should I be ashamed that I enjoy reading cheap fantasies or romances or law books? I'm actually throwing out examples here - I'm not a huge fan of romance. And if I am ashamed, does that mean I should specifically lie about it to make myself seem smarter?

A good solution is for everyone to read these "wish I'd read 'em" books so that they won't lie when asked about them. Another, simpler, solution is just to understand that each person has their own distinct, unique literary taste. Public perception shouldn't harm that. So what's the point of this survey? I don't know. Does it really say anything? I don't know.

And then, returning to the original survey, there are those "extra" stats. "96% of people admit to staying up late to finish a book." I was not aware that I needed to admit this. And as for the 41% who read the last page of a book to find out what happens before finishing? Another time.

And as for the adaptation?

It's been a week since the Oscars but the need to fully evaluate means that this entry is slightly delayed. Oh well. Still, after finally getting through Salman Rushdie's amazingly long rant on movie adaptations (and wow does somebody hate "Slumdog Millionaire"...), I wanted to add a few cents. Rushdie's ramble ends so:

Whole societies can lose their way through a process of bad adaptation. Striving to save themselves, they can oppress others. Hoping to defend themselves, they can damage the very liberties they believed to be under attack. Claiming to defend freedom, they can make themselves and others less free. Or, seeking to calm the violent hotheads in their midst, societies can try to appease them, and so give the violent hotheads the notion that their violence and hotheadedness is effective. Wishing to create better understanding between peoples, they can seek to prevent the expression of opinions unpalatable to some of their members, and so immediately make others even angrier than they were before.

Societies in motion, at a time of rapid change such as the present day, succeed, as all good adaptations do, by knowing what is essential, what cannot be compromised, what all their citizens must accept as the price of membership. For many years now, I'm sorry to say, we have lived through an era of bad social adaptations, of appeasements and surrenders on the one hand, of arrogant excesses and coercions on the other.

We can only hope that the worst is over, and that better movies, better musicals and better times lie ahead.

And these are the last three paragraphs (even the ending feels a bit long). Still, if someone has a lot of time to burn, go ahead and read the whole thing. It's interesting... in a boring way. That's not to say Rushdie doesn't say interesting and relevant things, though many have argued that his points are moot. Over at Read Street, Dave Rosenthal said, regarding similar quotes (made before the Guardian rant was published) by Rushdie:

It's fiction, remember? I do expect realistic fiction to be grounded -- I wouldn't want Puff the Magic Dragon to appear in Slumdog. But movie adapters get some license to keep the story moving. The criticisms leveled by Rushdie (at least those noted by the AJC) are so minor that they don't bother me -- not nearly as much as the depiction of Mumbai's sprawling slums.

Setting aside Rushdie's complaints about "Slumdog Millionaire" specifically, there are interesting points to be made in his 9 paged "article". Some wonderful works of art have emerged from adapting other works of art. Meanwhile, there are many, many cases where the adaptation butchered the original piece on which it was based. Rushdie is right to complain about recent adaptations on that count. It's a strange situation when a number of the more prolific and hyped movies of the decade are adaptations, whether from books, comics, or other movies.

Still, while numerous terrible movies have been made off of books, there are a lot of crowning jewels. I, for instance, am a big fan of "The Princess Bride", in book form and in movie form. I enjoy each immensely, recommend both, and find that the movie by no means ruins the book, even if it leaves out a lot of the quirkiness of the masterfully written book. It makes up for it by bringing its own charm, flair and personality.

Then there are books that have been "covered" so many times that it's gotten boring. Take "Pride and Prejudice", for instance. A classic example. The first adaptation, from 1940, is nothing like the book. Rich with anachronisms (the costumes are apparently the same from "Gone With the Wind" - speaking of movie adaptations...) and major character changes (Lady Catherine is nice), it's an example of an adaptation that actually changed the book. Then you watch the miniseries and you see something a little more realistic. The miniseries is a good adaptation - the 1940 version is not.

There are many examples where the adaptation is better known than the original ("Princess Bride" comes to mind again). Or where the adaptation is actually better than the original (Rushdie offers "Lord of the Rings" as an example for this). But rarely does a movie adaptation truly ruin the original. It'll raise awareness, yes, and if it's terrible, may keep potential readers away, but it rarely (if ever) makes those who have enjoyed it regret that feeling. Rushdie makes a few interesting, scattered points but sifting through this mess of a rant is a bit of a time-waster. And the adaptation debate will go on for a long time. Personally, I hope for an age where books have time to settle before they're instantly snapped for the big screen. I don't want to always feel rushed to read a book simply because four months after publication, it's already got a version out in theaters.

And even more about the Kindle...

Everyone is talking about the Kindle. I guess that even includes silly comics and Jon Stewart. And Jeff Bezos has the strangest laugh I've ever heard.

The Daily Show With Jon StewartM - Th 11p / 10c

Jeff Bezos

Daily Show Full Episodes
Important Things With Demetri Martin

Funny Political News
Joke of the Day

Kindle Library Theory

This xkcd comic (cropped to fit by me) has little to do with the official Kindle Library Theory (except that the issue might not exist if the Kindle was really The Hitchhiker's Guide...). Still, it serves its purpose as a great prelude to what is, in my opinion, the greatest flaw of the Kindle and the main reason why I won't be purchasing one in the near future.

First off, amendments from my previous Kindle post: According to sources (which may or may not be reliable... I'm still looking into it), the Kindle does allow other eBooks to be uploaded in the same way as you might send yourself a document. This is the feature that costs 10 cents, though according to Amazon, there's a loophole. Weeks into reading and rereading the Kindle's product page have made no advancements in my understanding of this feature, thus making it rather moot. However, I have learned that documents or eBooks cannot be shared from Kindle to Kindle. I somehow doubt this is a problem with other eReaders, seeing as I don't think most eReaders have a huge Amazon store behind them providing them with eBooks. Still, it exists in the Kindle - the only way to "lend" a book to a friend is in the literal sense of lending the Kindle.

And here's where it gets complicated. Normal libraries have a standard formula: pay once a flat fee, pay for overdue books, and then everything is free. The registration fee is also usually quite low. Overdue fines make sense. Most libraries can't last on donations alone. So how does this translate to an eReader? A few ideas.

1. Make it possible to "rent" books. For different prices, you can have different programs. Say, for a certain yearly price, you can check out two books at a time (check out periods of a month), one renewal allowed and then you can't check that specific book out again, only buy it. This encourages readers who love certain books to come back and buy it anyways while readers simply seeking a quick, free read and do that as well and don't have to worry about buying a silly book they'll never read again anyways. If you pay more, you can check out more books at a time and can renew them for longer too.

2. Have some sort of price reduction for previously checked out books. If you're in a higher ranked program, get special privileges in regards to Kindle purchases while still making most books available for free.

3. Make it possible to "lend" books for limited periods of time. Again, have some sort of trick to limit the time a book can stay "lent" and insure that the person on the receiving end can't get the same book again.

Just as libraries didn't destroy the book industry (if anything, made it bigger), a library service must be thought up for the Kindle. Mine is really rough (I'll try to do some casual calculations later, but this is it for now) but it's the basics that count - this can't mimic real library services, but it can create a whole new method of looking at reading books for free. It's absolutely ridiculous to pay 400$ for a machine and then another 10$ per book as well. If not for the environmental issue, it's a lot more worth it to buy ordinary hardbacks which I can lend or simply go to the library where I get books for free. If the Kindle is truly "revolutionary", it needs to take this into account.

Calling on all Battlestar Galactica fans...

*Notice! This is a no spoiler zone! Please refrain from mentioning anything related to season 4 of Battlestar Galactica! Thank you!*

With that out of the way, I'm pleased to link to the Guardian's most-delightful article that's about, believe it or not, Battlestar Galactica. (The article is spoiler free in regards to season 4 but mentions things through season 3.) Until reading this neatly phrased piece, my copy of the Aeneid sat cheerfully ranked as "last" on my above-bed bookshelf. I never believed that anything could make it shoot up through the ranks so quickly, surpassing even a Zola novel I've been wanting to read for months. As soon as I finish my current read, into the battlestar, er, I mean, Virgil, I go. A tip of my hat to the Guardian, then. Charlotte Higgins, I don't believe I should get so amused from reading about Virgil. Then again, you used the phrase "geek tragedy".

While it's always fun to compare classics to their modern counterparts, I think this ranks as one of my most favorite.

On the other hand...

So while Amazon is alone in terms of profits in 2008, the news is grim on the publisher's side: Simon & Schuster is reporting a 3% decline. Publisher's Weekly analyzes the situation, semi-justifying the declines by pointing out that 2007 included sale of a megahit in the form of the amazingly popular "The Secret". It's an interesting article.

Still, what's most interesting about this news is that it does to a certain extent counteract the news that Amazon has profited quite a bit in the last year. Obviously, Amazon is much more than just a book outlet and it's always been clear that book sales are not what keep the company afloat. And even knowing this, it's surprising to hear about publisher's difficulties selling.

Simon & Schuster was on track to have a solid year until the second week in October, when consumer concerns over the economy resulted in a severe sales downturn that, noted S&S CEO Carolyn Reidy, “continues to this day.”

What can be more revealing than quotes like this? It makes sense that a darkening economic situation would cause consumers to stop and think before they buy. And yet there's still something troubling to it. This implication that the book industry is perhaps not quite as stable as we'd like to think it is, and how it is, for the most part, dependent on precisely those readers who buy (or don't buy) books. None of this is new, of course; it's just reemerging now once again as the times grow dark. And even with declining sales, Reidy and Simon & Schuster try to look at the bright side - the megahits that are bound to come. There's still time to see what 2009 will bring.

Classic makeover

Unlike the Guardian, I will link to this general blog (I have no lawyers at my beck and call, no legal knowledge and see no harm in pointing people along to websites... unless otherwise asked, of course). Designer M.S. Corley presents "redone" book covers for "Harry Potter", "The Spiderwick Chronicles" and "A Series of Unfortunate Events". While obviously this kind of stuff is done often enough (I just don't often come across it), what's special about Corley's designs is that they're made to look like "classics". The rough sketchiness to it is meant to imitate Penguin Classics and what's surprising is that the books really do suddenly look like classics.

It's not only neat to look at (the covers contain main parts of the story without giving anything away), but it's a far way's from the original covers. Will these be the Harry Potter covers of the future, or are Corley's elegant mimicries no more than that? Take a look, reach your own conclusions. Alison Flood from the Guardian is right to point out that there's something remarkably attractive, mature, and comfortable in these covers (or "nostalgic"). Quite nice.

A story

Yesterday, in an entirely non-bookish setting, 6 unrelated people between ages 17-79 (two men, four women) were told to name a few books they'd read recently. The room split into two groups, men vs. women, and each group pulled up names of books in an attempt to stump the opposite "team".

Of the books listed, none were common. Except for one book, the men didn't recognize any of the women's books. The women recognized one of the men's books, and the others not at all. One of the books was a children's book that one of the men had read to his child recently. Another was a non-fiction history book. Among the books the women read there was a book about the Holocaust, a memoir, and an internationally popular bestseller.

I can't say I was surprised, but it was strange to see this clear, sharp divide. The men's list was shorter and contained more non-fiction books. The women's list was primarily fiction, with a smattering of memoirs here and there. Each woman seemed surprised when the men didn't recognize their books. The men seemed unsurprised that the women didn't know theirs.

It's a small story and an isolated incident, but there's something odd to it. What's with this divide? I'd be curious to hear any opinions, thoughts.

The Graveyeard Book - again

I mentioned a few weeks ago in this post that my copy of "The Graveyard Book" was on its way. I also promised I'd follow up on it. I read it over the weekend (I'm a bit slow this week) and figured I should live up to my promise.

I don't usually try to view books through the eyes of award-givers, but "The Graveyard Book" is actually... great. I really see why it won the Newbery. Not only is it a fun, enchanting story, but it's got this incredible Gaiman flair to it. It's a children's book, no doubt, but it's one that can be enjoyed by adults as well. Now that I've actually read it, I believe I must heartily concur with the judge's decision. This series of enjoyable stories about a boy named Bod are on the one hand so Gaiman and so fun to read. A hat tip to them as well as one to Neil Gaiman. Thanks for a fun weekend read.

Well...

I wonder how much I contributed to this (courtesy of http://cagle.msnbc.com/politicalcartoons):

"Write a blurb!"

Guardian commenter "Degrus" may snap at me that I'm distributing the same post in a slightly different packaging too, but this post (and the subsequent comments) made my brain tick a little. The Guardian quotes Mr. Pack's blog, in which he lists his pet peeves, among which is the following:

When you pick up an attractive looking paperback in the bookshop only to turn it over and find, instead of a blurb, a list of quotes from various wanky publications. Somewhere within these quotes is some vague hint at what the book might be about but I can't be arsed to find it if the publisher can't be arsed to write a blurb.

I'd laugh at the humor, but there's a heavy, annoying truth to this statement. The Guardian goes one to list other reading pet peeves, from crackling book bindings, to repetitive publications of the same book. One pet peeve, though, rubbed off me the wrong way. While I agree with most of the points (especially Mr. Pack's), the comment about nameless protagonists annoyed me. That is, I disagree. And what would the world be without disagreements?

Still, there are scores of frustrating aspects to being a bibliophile. For instance, when the book is really short (in height) but monstrously fat, so you have to seriously break the paper just to be able to read a sentence. Or when the author's name is five times the size of the title. Or a million and a half other little things that we overlook every day. The more I try to come up with annoying things, the worse my mood gets. So I'm going to stop and let the internet take over. Anybody else want to add to this ever-growing list?

The Kindle; she burns

The buzz is all over town. Amazon has revealed (oh, as if we didn't already know) the shiny new Kindle 2.0. What does that mean? Well, more Kindle debate. We're all supremely guilty. Almost every bookish blog is pointing it out. Boring. And then you have those actually saying something. I found this nicely put list (I edited out long descriptions) at Read More Books:

Indexing via tags

Dog-earing

Annotations and highlighting

Bookmarking

Massive storage

Long battery life

Extras

Lower price

Right. A lot of interesting points are made, some I agree with, others less so. For instance, the idea that there's no point in buying an eReader while they're more expensive than iPhones. Quite frankly, I think eReaders are worth a lot more than iPhones (size and merit, anyone?). Still, a lot of these points are pretty relevant. And then I realized my point (semi-made in my last entry) wasn't ever addressed. What about other eBooks, Gutenberg or otherwise? But first we'll deal with the claims Read More Books mentioned.

According to Amazon's amazingly detailed product page, a lot of these issues have been dealt with. There's access to dictionaries and Wikipedia, so if you're an info-geek, it'll be simple and easy to get the knowledge you seek. That rhymed. Anyways, the dictionary is built in for apparently easy use. Obviously, I have no idea if this stuff is actually easy-to-use. But the mere idea is pretty interesting. Amazon claims there's also a dog-ear and a margin-writing option, or, in their terms, "annotating" and "bookmarking". The battery life (so long as you don't go wireless) is allegedly two weeks (!) (four days with wireless) and the storage seems oddly large (how do 1500 books fit in 2GB of storage?). Almost all of Read More Books' requests have been met. Almost.

Still, for all the flashy ups (no paper! We like the environment, yes we do), there are a number of irrefutable downs. For instance, the price. Obviously, it isn't that steep. Most consumers remember how expensive the early iPods were and how each new version was equally pricey. I understand why it's so expensive, but I won't spend that much money. Not yet, at least. Not while I can't upload whatever eBooks I want. Not when I have to pay 10 cents to e-mail myself documents (there's a way around it, apparently, but still, the mere fact that this exists...).

And absolutely not when there's no library function. I may purchase a number of books every year, but I also check out about that many from the library. I paid a couple of dollars years ago to get my membership and now I get books for free whenever I choose. With the Kindle, I need to purchase each and every book (for only a buck or two cheaper than the paperback? Please). There's no option of having it for three weeks and then returning it. I have to buy it plain and simple, pay a surprisingly steep price for it (considering how much I'm spending on the Kindle as well), and then... nothing. I can't lend it to a friend (unless I lend my entire Kindle, I guess) and I can't borrow from friends. If I'm already paying so much for the machine, can't I also pay a couple of bucks per year for a free three-week service? I won't go into depth about my Kindle library service theory yet (oh, its day will come), but as much as it seems the Kindle has improved (that "reading aloud" thing is really weird though... watch the vid...) and is rather drool-worthy, it has a long way to go before it can tempt many readers.

Gutenberg revisited

Every once in a while I head on over to Gutenberg.org to see what new books they've uploaded. It's not something I do all too often, but every once in a while I get itchy fingers and click on over. Every single time I remember why I rarely visit the theoretically perfect site. Probably because it isn't so... perfect.

Much as I love Gutenberg (the man, the website, and the whole idea), I realized that there's one fatal flaw to the whole eBooks idea: they're really uncomfortable. I mentioned this way back when, in my first ever attempt at being clever (also known as my first ever post), but it didn't hit me quite so hard until last week. I was thinking of a couple books I wanted to recommend to a friend when I remembered that there were a few more Zola novels I really wanted to read (he is a genius, by the way... just making sure we're on the same page). The paperbacks weren't actually that expensive, but frugality and curiosity led me to download the eBook instead of a standard purchase. And what do I get?

I keep forgetting this is how Gutenberg works, but the crappy font, the bunched together lines, the needless scrolling is really uncomfortable. I did my usual thing: cut and paste into word. But nope, that doesn't help the font or the bunched-together aspect. So I change the font to the easy-to-read Verdana. Okay, but now everything is shining red and green. "Spelling mistake! Grammar mistake! Oh, who cares that this is a French name and that's a British spelling? Who cares that this is literary license? Not Word, no siree!" That, by the way, was all sarcasm. Imagine the little paperclip guy singing that in a really high-pitched voice. That's what I'm picturing right about now. Okay, canceled the grammar/spelling check for this document. Can this get any worse? Well, yes. It turns out that I have no desire to read a book just like that out of a word document.

I'm guilty of not owning an eReader (when they're cheaper we'll chat again). Still, Gutenberg is doing this great thing here and I just can't appreciate it. It's not even that I hate the way they do their thing, I get it. It's just that I guess eBooks don't do it for me. It's no different than the book in my hand... except in every way. So what now? How hypocritical is this moment? Maybe not as much as I think. It's been talked to death, but the tech revolution is hitting books a little late and awkwardly, though the awkwardness is not that unlike the music world's reaction. And just as things have been working themselves out there over the last few years, books will probably learn to adapt and coexist with eBooks. eReader-less people will settle for classic paper and ink; the technically adept and cheerful will remind us of how many trees we're killing.

Moment of the week

Click quickly and eagerly!

It's really rare to find things that could be linked for pure hilarity and for bookish merit as well. Thanks to The Book Lady's Blog, I found the aforelinked gem. Obviously there's a fair share of silliness to the song itself (please read it all the way through), some rhythmic wouldn't-fit-with-the-music moments, and the overall blushing as you realize you're trying to sing it out loud, but boy, it's just so amazing.

Jane is so cool...

Eyre? Tarzan? Bennet? That last one came close. Ladies and gents, presenting Miss Jane Austen... again:

Michael Thomas Ford’s forthcoming novel about an undead Jane Austen who, after 200 years of writer’s block, takes revenge on everyone making money off of her? More proof of the inherently vampiric nature of the literary heritage industry? Or the strongest argument yet for retroactive tightening of copyright restrictions?

That's from the NY Times' Paper Cuts blog. I had to laugh at loud seeing that. The post is quite hilarious. I recommend you read it (and the subsequent comments). But other than the pretty great mental image of a zombie Mr. Darcy, I got to thinking about superstar Jane. Most 19th century writers have to battle ageism against them. Jane Austen is somehow exempt from this rule. There's something so clear and obvious to loving Jane Austen. "Pride and Prejudice" is a pretty nice book (lovely romantic plot, nice length...) and much as the obsession with it is fun, it isn't particularly enlightening. How many different versions can you make of the same plot?

I don't have much of an opinion on the copyright issue, but I definitely feel that the P&P craze is another one of those fads that takes away from the original quality. Often, bad books are overly hyped, thus resulting in tons of people reading a pretty crappy book. In this case, the opposite is happening. A reasonably good book is blown entirely out of proportion to the point where people will pretty soon get sick of it. It'll take a while: generations of young women have fallen in love with the romance of the novel (even guys think Mr. Darcy is perfect). It's hard not to. That's part of the reason why P&P is so popular in the first place. Who doesn't want to read a book that makes their stomach flutter and gives them classic points at the same time?

Google "Pride and Prejudice". 3,850,000 hits. That's about 1.5 million more than "Crime and Punishment" and 85 million less than "Harry Potter". It sweeps Burney's "Evelina", "Camilla" and "Cecilia" off the board (by 3,500,000 of all three combined!). It even beats "Jane Eyre" and "Wuthering Heights", two other romantic romance novels grandly over-hyped. It's crazy. Yes, we all love P&P because it's a good book but does nobody else think maybe we need to relax for a moment? Other excellent period novels are overlooked simply because they aren't stamped with Jane Austen on their covers. How many sequels have been published for P&P? People love Jane Austen: movies, miniseries (the BBC rocks), books, er, other media things...

So what's the deal? A 200-year fad or simply understanding quality? I'll pull for a combo. "Pride and Prejudice" is a really good book, but there's something overly hyped to it. Either way, it'd be nice if it stopped... And, of course, a delayed reaction:

What in the world? Jane Austen and zombies?