Score one for NPR

Amid all the "Best of" lists, you'd be hard pressed to find books not originally written in English. Here's where NPR wins big with Jessa Crispin's "World of Novels" list, where 5 foreign fiction books are crowned best of the year. Crispin writes:

[T]he inescapable truth is, sampling world culture is an essential and powerfully enriching experience. [...] [These books] just happen to be set in slightly unfamiliar locales.

Indeed. The list is fairly varied, with books translated from Spanish, Russian, Hebrew and Dutch (two books are originally from Spanish). Obviously, it might have been nicer having a wider variety (and a longer list!), but given how few books get translated per year, I'm willing to forgive Crispin. The topics are also all over the board, with horror stories, war tales, nerdiness, feminism and family drama all covered. For readers sick of constantly seeing the same titles again and again in "Best of" lists, this one is most recommended.

Looking back

Okay, this is amazing. The Guardian, in its typical fashion, has decided to set aside the typical "Best of the Decade" for a "Worst of" list. The result is quite spectacular. Over 450 comments where readers pour out their frustrations with what they feel are the worst books of the decade (typically, these books are ones they felt were overhyped or wrongly popular). Massively profane, incredibly upbeat about their insults, and 100% entertaining, these comments reveal 10 years worth of pent-up book hate (and on the rare occasion, love).

The grand winners are, for the most part, Dave Eggers, Zadie Smith, and Ian McEwan. It's amusing, though, to see the others nominated. "Twilight", Dan Brown and Harry Potter are repeatedly mentioned as "How do people like this [expletive]?!". Many (I think almost all; "Wolf Hall" may be the only exception) of the last decade's Booker winners have been mentioned as "pure drivel" and several other popular novelists' names keep getting tossed around back and forth: "He's great! No, he's [crap]. What are you talking about, ----- was a masterpiece of modern literature! You're an idiot if you think that! Yeah, well you think--"

And people say literary discussion is dead.

What's it all about?

A few days ago, looking at my stack of unintentional book purchases (I tried not to, but gift cards and 4 for the price of 1 [expensive book!] sales made it a little difficult...), I noted two interesting things. The first is that that when I buy books at a bookstore with my own two hands, I'm a little more careful about which specific copy I get to make sure the one I take home won't be bent or dusty. The second is slightly more interesting. Once home, I realized that I hadn't read a single one of the summarizing blurbs for these six books. I purchased based entirely on previous knowledge: sometimes complete, sometimes not.

Two books I purchased because they're part of a publisher series I quite like. One of these came heavily recommended while the other I looked up beforehand online. It looked interesting and was on sale. Alright, legit. The third book was also recommended by a couple of trustworthy sources. Actually, the author had been mentioned; I had no idea which book of his to read. I ended up picking the fattest one. The fourth book I took because I'd heard about the author. That's all. Name recognition and nothing else. The fifth and sixth books I chose because I've already read a book by their respective authors. In both cases, I wasn't blown away but felt I should give the authors another chance.

So the question: Do I actually need to know what a book is about before reading it? I'm leaning towards the "no" end of the spectrum. Several times in the last few months I've read books when I've known next to nothing about them and I've enjoyed them. The good ones, at least. Books with blurbs lead to expectations. You expect the book to follow the story summary and fit those perfectly chosen publisher phrases to the T. If it doesn't, it's a disappointment. If you're apathetic about the book, you end up feeling whatever the publisher wanted you to feel. And manipulated. If you liked it, no harm no foul. But reading a book ignorant is like eating with a blindfold on. Sure, you know the general genre (and if you spend as much time researching books as I do, tend to know a little bit about the author and writing style - thank you internet), but surprise and excitement lie within the story, in the "meat". It unfolds with no expectations and progresses as simply as any book can. If it's bad, it's bad. If it's mediocre, it's mediocre. And if it's amazing, it's your new best friend.

There's a second part to this question. What does it mean that a book sounds good? Essentially, books sound like they've been marketed. If a publisher tells me a book is a great work of international literature, something that will change how I view the world... yeah, I'll probably bite. But for all I know, it's a love story that just happens to take place in the non-Anglocentric world. Do I need a book to sound like it might be interesting in order to enjoy it? The books I hated most the last year have had "intriguing" stories. That's not enough. So once I have a vague notion what type of book it is (based even on a bookseller saying it's vaguely like this other book I liked, or the publisher selling it alongside a superb book, for instance), why should I bother?

I have no idea. I'm curious to know what others think, though. The floor is open.

Sketches

A few months ago, browsing in a used bookstore, I happened across a nice hardback copy of Emile Zola's "Germinal". Force of habit (I often look at favorite books in as many editions as possible) urged me to pull the book off the shelf and I let it fall open in my hands.

Sketches. Surprised, I flipped through the book slowly, pausing every few pages. Lovely drawings by Berthold Mahn, scattered throughout this 1942 edition of one of my favorite books. Some drawings are more detailed and complex (above and lower left), while others take on a cruder, simpler style (lower right). The pictures match the story just right without revealing much for the unsuspecting browser. In fact, lined up and placed side-by-side, these different drawings tell a story of their own. The depth and beauty these pictures add to an already excellent book is surprising, making me wonder why I haven't seen more artwork of this kind.

Solveig's song

A couple of weeks ago, after almost three years of it sitting on my shelf, I finally read Henrik Ibsen's "Peer Gynt". A grand achievement indeed, reading this... hmm... 223 page long play, by one of my favorite playwrights, one who has disappointed me so rarely (though Ibsen has disappointed me, here and there...). How... complex.

The thing about "Peer Gynt" is that I kept putting it off. Here's a play best known for Edvard Grieg's musical interpretation of it, not for its literary merit. That's where I know it from and I suspect the vast majority of readers associate Ibsen's work with the quite beautiful suite (my personal favorite from the bunch is "Solveig's Song"; absolutely incredible). It's a rare example where listening to the music doesn't remind the reader of the book, but rather the music paints the story and the book reminds the reader of the music. It's strange, too, because the music is meant to accompany the play. The English translation and the ultimate suite make this difficult to imagine these days, when the play is typically thought of only in reference to Grieg.

Here's what I discovered: it makes a difference. I had long intended to read the play along with the music, except I suddenly found myself wanting to dig into Ibsen and Grieg was nowhere to be found. So I just read the play. It was strange, partly because the order within the suite is different than the progression of the book (completely different, in fact), but also because I had a feel for the story before it even began. I knew key points simply because the songs were titled as such and the music to "Solveig's Song" made one scene clear just based on the musical interpretation. It actually meant that even though the play was far from the best of Ibsen's I've read, it was a moving, intense read. Scenes where I liked the music, I smiled at the words. Scenes where the music was unimpressive, I shrugged my shoulders and felt the urge to skim.Grieg and Ibsen (allegedly, according to Wikipedia and my translation) often had different ideas about how the music should sound. I have to wonder how this schism is reflected today, when Ibsen is largely ignored for his verse work and Grieg is played in concert halls round the world. And what it'll be like to reread "Peer Gynt" along with the actual incidental music (not the infamous suites...)? I'm intrigued to find out. Of course, it may take something akin to three years just to get there...

The Kindle is dead. Long live the Kindle!

Now this is a new take on the Kindle's future from Joe Wikert's blog:

I'm not convinced Amazon has a long-term commitment to the Kindle hardware business. In fact, I'll go so out on a limb and predict that Amazon will completely exit the Kindle hardware space within the next 3 years.

[...] I had high hopes back in November of 2007 but Amazon is clearly hedging their hardware bet by offering the Kindle iPhone app as well as the Kindle for PC (beta) and Kindle for Mac (forthcoming) apps. That's a smart move by Amazon. If my prediction comes true and they abandon the hardware space in the next three years they'll still be a major e-content player.

Huh. While I'm certain similar thoughts have been expressed before, this is the first time I've come across anyone who thinks that Amazon will entirely exit the eReader arena (and gives a timetable too! Hmm...). The post is quite interesting, raising a number of quite relevant issues and offering places where competitors seem to win, mentioning the not-yet-available B&N Nook as a primary example and Apple's mythical "Tablet" (does this thing even have substantial rumors to suggest it will exist?) as another possibility.

I'm not sure there's a way to summarize Wikert's point so I recommend reading the whole post. What I find curious is that Wikert seems to focus so much on the Kindle's hardware issues rather than problems relating to its convenience (or lack thereof). The closed format is mentioned, but in reference to external applications (all suggestions here seem to mimic the iPhone... huh), not so much reader ease. And there's the assumption that Amazon's "e-content" is attractive. I'm not even going to approach that topic...

Also important is Wikert's claim that certain competitors are surpassing Amazon. Here the Nook seriously comes into play, except that on this count I have to shake my head and disagree. Sure, maybe the Kindle should have tried to be more like the Nook (or is it the other way around?), except we don't know anything about the Nook. Yes, aspects to it sound attractive, but it's a new product that hasn't been field tested yet and seems to be lacking here and there (like all current eReaders on the market...). I fail to understand Wikert's desire to have the Nook truly be "what the Kindle should have been", nor his belief in that statement. Still, it's an interesting look at the matter. Wikert is right in several places, including the mildly hinted idea that we should expect to see some strange and seemingly bizarre things in the future of eReaders and the currently mind-blowing concept that perhaps the Kindle isn't quite the king we assume it to be.

Good and bad

Once again, the Guardian lets me in on a brilliant award, one where Philip Roth, Amos Oz, and John Banville can be counted among the shortlisted. With so many yearly awards massively publicized (Booker, National Book Award, Pulitzer, Nobel, ...this list can go on eternally...), there are a few that perhaps deserve a bit more attention. Or much, much less attention, depending on how you look at it (and the Guardian's response posts to this award...).

I think all this one needs is the link.

National Book Award winners

The National Book Award finalists have been narrowed down even more precisely - to the winners. The full list can be found here. And an observation: what long titles all the winners have. It makes it difficult to quote the whole list...

But in all seriousness, finally an award I can comment on. I've read the winning "Let the Great World Spin" and while I thought it was interesting and good (certainly very well written), I wasn't blown away. The book is like a collection of short stories except that the stories eventually connect to form a larger tale. A great tactic, sure, but there were too many stories. The book felt overly long and at times the connections were kind of pointless. That was my opinion, at least.

Should this have been the winning pick? I haven't read the other finalists (making it a little difficult to judge...), but I can't shake off the feeling that "Let the Great World Spin" doesn't deserve such honor. It's a good book; it isn't great. It seems like the award-givers wanted their audience to be pleased with the choice, rather than giving the audience a new and wonderful book choice. Perhaps it's just that it's been a very long time since I've read a book that later won an award. Perhaps it's my personal bias or an issue with my own taste. Either way, the judges have picked a well-written, interesting, and recommendable book for the fiction category (and most likely, equally [or better...] picks in the other categories as well).

Congratulations to all winners: McCann, Stiles, Waldrop, and Hoose.

A story of young and old

Not much in recent weeks has made me as happy as discovering that I can check out the continuing "Magic Tree House" books through the Overdrive library. In the eight years since I last purchased a book in the series, I've missed out on the more expensive hardcover books (a different "series", according to Wikipedia) and have always felt like I abandoned some good friends

For me, the series ended abruptly but aptly. I started reading it in a strange order, first with the twelfth book "Polar Bears Past Bedtime" (the Lars books led to a lifelong obsession with polar bears), then backtracking to "Dolphins at Daybreak" (to understand the story arc), and then finally starting the series properly from the beginning and reading it through. "Polar Bears Past Bedtime" was perfectly suited for a "end-of-first-grade" kid, but years passed. It was difficult to let go and even though it took me about 22 minutes to breeze through "High Tide in Hawaii", I was sad to see the series off. It's a pleasure to find out that I can revisit some childhood favorites through older eyes.

*A small note - The name of the author of this blog has been slightly altered (to a perhaps more familiar title), as the old one is no longer relevant.

Quote of the week

Among many negative reviews for the book "Then We Came to the End" (which I actually quite enjoyed), I couldn't help but notice this one:

the office tv show is better

This quote, the title of an unremarkable review expressing disappointment with the story and its ending, does not cease to amuse me. It's like saying "Battlestar Galactica" is better than Isaac Asimov's books (robots!). It's like saying "Desperate Housewives" is like "A Doll's House" (...drama?). It's like saying "Futurama" is like "Snow Crash" (this one's a cheat - I haven't read "Snow Crash" but Wikipedia claims they share a pizza delivery theme).

Okay, your turn.

PW and sexism

Publishers Weekly released their "Best Books of 2009" list. Unremarkable, typically. This time, however, the list has caused certain groups to raise the alarm because all ten titles were written by men. PW says, "It disturbed us when we were done" and goes on to mention who/what else didn't make the list. Meanwhile, via the Guardian:

"They know they're being blatantly sexist, but it looks like they feel good about that," said [WILLA's (the new US literary organisation Women in Letters and Literary Arts) other co-founder and director of the creative writing programme at Florida State University, Erin Belieu]. "I, on the other hand, have heard from a whole lot of people - writers and readers - who don't feel good about it at all."

The question: is it sexist? If in going through the thousands of books published this year, the top ten happened to be written by men, is it sexism? Answer: not really "blatant sexism", but it's kind of wrong. Literary sexism is often spoken of but is difficult to prove. It's known that men and women statistically like different styles and often view the literary differently (this is not to say that one is more right than the other). What remains is an argument over whether or not award-boards and juries prefer "manly" books over their female counterparts, and it's one complex, difficult argument that I still haven't figured out.

So what about this is wrong? If I don't think there's something inherently and outwardly sexist to this list (meaning, I don't think that PW intentionally left off women), what is it about it that bothers? Well, it's that you can't help but feel that there has to have been at least one (and probably many more) top-notch, incredible, mind-blowing book written this year by a woman. I'm not saying it has to be one of the big guns mentioned in the Guardian article (Atwood, Munro, Byatt, etc.), but it seems slightly sloppy of PW to judge like this. I wouldn't criticize them for purposely ignoring women writers, but I feel like publishing a list like this displays a slightly unbalanced view of this year's literature. So props for trying (points for non-fiction and graphic memoirs alike), but don't get too hurt by those calling foul. And for those on the other side, I'm not sure this is sexism out to get you - I honestly think it's just stupidity.

I'm curious to know how others interpret this. I suspect there's much to learn and understand from all sides of the story.

Picture books

The very best books are touted for all sorts of things. People like the writing, the characters, the stories, the emotions, the atmosphere... etc. But ultimately, good books rule with their ability to draw the reader into their new, fascinating worlds. It isn't a gift the author is giving the reader. You've got to give something too, like your attention and imagination. The reader has to build the images based on the words the author gives.

"The Arrival" gives the exact opposite. Now the book gives the images and the reader has to build the words around it. It's a curious case (not unique, I'm sure, but special), best described as similar to a silent movie. Indeed, reading "The Arrival" often feels like watching a movie except that there's still something particularly "bookish" about it. Perhaps the still shots help. Reading it, I needed to fill in the blanks in a way that a movie would ask less of me. It's a difficult book to classify.

What amazes me most about "The Arrival" is how it can work anywhere for anyone. It's a book that can be enjoyed by the illiterate and educated alike. It can be read by anybody who can see, no matter what language they speak. It is something so purely human, requiring little background knowledge (it helps to recognize certain shots as based on Ellis Island but is not necessary) and has no language barrier. There's hardly even a culture gap, given that this is precisely what the book displays - a man comes to a new world and is surprised by all that he sees there. I should like to see more books with this type of story-telling. If they're as good as "The Arrival", we'll have a lot of excellent new picture books on our hands.

Bye-bye, novel

Once again, someone decides to spread stories of gloom and doom about the future of the written word. This time, it's Philip Roth, who despite thinking that 25 years down the line there won't be any more novels, insists on writing them. Roth suggests that screens will replace reading, no matter how hard eReaders try to spice it up.

The author believes that the concentration and focus required to read a novel is becoming less and less prevalent, as potential readers turn instead to computers or to television. "I was being optimistic about 25 years really. I think it's going to be cultic. I think always people will be reading them but it will be a small group of people. Maybe more people than now read Latin poetry, but somewhere in that range,"

Okay, Mr Roth. Let's go through these sentiments and shoot them down one by one.

1. Film as a form of entertainment has existed for almost 100 years. In these 100 years, literacy rates have risen. Yes, obviously part of the reason they've risen is because education standards have gone up along with technological advancements, but with this rise has come the concept of the mass-market book. People didn't stop reading because they could go to the movies; why should that happen today? What's changed?

2. The computer as a popular form of entertainment has been around for about fifteen years. Now, this may seem like hardly any time but in today's culture, things change quickly and decisively. Look how long it took eReaders to become normal. If the computer was going to eliminate the novel, wouldn't it be showing significantly by now? If anything, the computer has helped many people learn about literature, access certain books, and has made book-buying a much simpler thing.

3. Behold. This is an online journal that talks about books (and only books). Including novels. This "cult" of readers is massive - there are hundreds (thousands?) of books bloggers currently active, tens of thousands of Facebook users join book/reading related groups, hundreds of thousands of people write reviews on sites like Amazon, Goodreads, and LibraryThing, and many more elsewhere. Are these large numbers just part of a "small group"? The number of people that read Latin poetry is... er... I have no idea. Maybe the reason people don't read Latin poetry is because nobody speaks Latin fluently. It's a dead language, remember? And how to define "a small group of people"? But let's assume for a moment that reading really is in decline. How in decline will it get? Do I, child of the internet, substitute reading literature with time spent on the computer? Absolutely not. Do I watch television for the same reasons I read? Even less so.

Mr Roth is basically saying (as others have before him) that the written word is dying and will be something so minute that it'll turn cult-like. I vehemently disagree. Literary phenomena like "Harry Potter", "Twilight", Dan Brown and others may incite his (and others) wrath (quality drop, blah blah) but there they are. Millions of people around the world continue to buy books. Millions of these will still be alive in 25 years. Still be reading novels. Still be teaching their children to love and appreciate the written word. There may be many things to be frightened of with the future of books, but that they won't exist globally in the coming years is not one of them. Is Roth simply concerned about his own name in history? Don't worry, sir, your novel legacy is good so far.

Quote of the week

Also known as translation failure of the week...

The salon they entered was large. It had three windows.

-p. 40, "The Family Moskat" - Isaac Bashevis Singer, translation by A.H. Gross

It's very nice that people translate books. Really. It makes life simpler for most of us. But it's pretty disappointing to find lines like these in the midst of a book that deserves better. I suspect the blame lies with the translator, as the quote sits awkwardly compared to the rest of the page. I may obviously be mistaken and it's Isaac Bashevis Singer's fault but the impression was that the translation flubbed. Thankfully, most of "The Family Moskat" is better written (and translated) than these two sentences. It would make for pretty uncomfortable reading if not...

Flight stories

The following were seen on a flight going between the U.K. and the U.S.:

• Two people (a man and a woman) in the same row (on opposite sides of the plane) were spotted reading "The Lost Symbol" by Dan Brown. The woman read through it most of the flight and made significant headway; the man read a few chapters and then set aside the book in favor of his newspaper and a good nap.

• A different man in the same row showed off his Kindle 2 to his travel companions seated on either side of him as the plane boarded. He displayed the way the Kindle flips pages, the weight, and presumably some of the higher brow books he had on it. He then put the Kindle away for the entire flight and read from a print newspaper. Go figure.

• Near the end of the flight, a woman one row ahead pulled out her iPhone and began to read from it. After a few moments, it became obvious (via her method of flipping pages and her level of concentration) that she was reading an eBook. Amazon wins again?

• And meanwhile, this correspondent was reading from a silver Sony Reader.
  

Once I may have been surprised to see two people reading the same book. Or a strangely titled book (also spotted a few of those). Instead, now I was surprised by the prevalence of eReaders in these three back rows: one Kindle, one Reader, and one iPhone. Apparently, eReaders are becoming more and more common by the day... well then.

Enjoying 600 books (and how!)

Disclosure: I like my Sony PRS-600 Touch Edition.

The evening I bought it, I plugged it in, let it charge fully, installed Sony's incredibly convenient eBook Library, got my first book from GoogleBooks ("Fruitfulness", Emile Zola) and began to read. I was in a state of nervousness that perhaps I had made a bad choice buying the Reader and so I approached it more cautiously than I might have otherwise. Every negative comment I'd seen about it sprung to mind again, and I was certain that I'd be incredibly disappointed.

I wasn't. Two hours later, I was engrossed in my reading, taking notes in the "margins" (something I would never do in a physical copy, for fear of ruining it) and overall pleased with the device. The biggest point against the Reader was that the screen quality was poor but in all honesty, the glare was hardly noticeable. I suppose that for those eReader experts it might have been bothersome, but the screen didn't cause me eye strain, didn't bother at all, and served its purpose quite well in providing me with a book to read. The extra features are fun, easy and wonderfully convenient, like the dictionary and the ability to take notes in the margin (the stylus is extremely responsive and is fairly easy to use, just don't let your hand rest on the screen! A mess ensues...). Embarrassing side note about the dictionary: it is so useful that when I was reading from a print book the other day, I actually attempted to double-click on the word.

Another common complaint was that flipping pages was difficult and unintuitive. Quite the contrary. It took me a little while to get used to flipping the pages with my thumb across the touch screen, but once I figured out that a little bit of nail will help, it became quick and easy. Furthermore, the buttons are perfectly placed for how I hold a book, with my thumb resting at the bottom-centre and the rest of my hand supporting the book from the back. The movement is completely natural, as though I'm reaching for a page in the bottom right corner and I'm "dragging" it across to flip.

As for access to books, I was rather pleased. The idea of free library books sold me the device and I was happy to see that the process runs smoothly. Gutenberg, GoogleBooks, and various free eBooks filled up my library quickly and easily. My Reader now holds more than 50 books I downloaded and the grand total space used comes to... ~20 MB. ePub files are about 1 KB per page; PDF can take up to a few MB (e.g. a book with 640 pages is 2 MB). Some books have pictures in them and load a little slower but the images show up just fine in black and white. Some PDFs take longer to load the first time they are accessed (a slight downside to the Reader) and though they initially appear to be tiny, upping the font size on the PDFs will lead to readable texts (though the page formats will be a little funky - not a big deal, easy to get used to).

I have other qualms as well. Take, for instance, the occasional blips. GoogleBooks sometimes-to-too-often misreads/mistranslates the original documents, leading to strange mistakes. For instance, "j" may replace ";", "<" may replace a quotation mark, "111" may replace "ill", etc. It becomes easy to keep track of, but is still a definite drawback (although not exclusive to the Reader, as it is a GoogleBooks issue). The PDF issues listed above can also be frustrating at first but these became easy to manage once I getting into the book. It just means a bit more page flipping every once in a while. Formatting also tends to be an issue. Poems often are displayed weirdly, in such a way that indented lines start with a series of "?????". All in all mess-ups appear more often than one would like but don't do much more than irritate, in the same way an advanced reader's copy might annoy with silly goofs. Again, I note, in nearly all cases of formatting error, it is the fault of the source, not the Reader itself.

A lot of people may shy away from the lack of internet on this Reader, but as long as the internet provided remains 3G, somewhat limited, and not wi-fi, I'm okay without. The screen quality is quite good for those used to computers (I can't say about those upgrading from older Sony models) and reading from it is comfortable. Overall, the convenience far outshines the downsides and the device is both fun and useful.

The reader is obviously not right for everyone. There are many die-hard print supporters (though clearly this will not replace the printed book, they will coexist) but for those interested in technology and willing to dip their toes into this volatile market, I can say that Sony's product is certainly worthwhile. Here's to hoping the price will eventually drop, though. Perhaps soon enough that I'll get a refund as well...?

Some Sony

I've been to Sony stores around the world. I've handled the old 505s, the fairly poor quality 700s (sloppy original touch screen), and the newer models. I've had the opportunity to see just how the products work, read a couple of pages and figure out the pros. Other eReaders? Nothing. Blips on the radar. I've heard much about the Kindles, written tons about them, even seen them in the hands of random people or acquaintances... but Amazon never openly came and offered them to me for even a store run. I am a naturally suspicious consumer and Amazon did not make the situation easier for me. Sony did.

Months ago, when I realized I didn't want the Kindle 2, a friend who had handled a Sony PRS-505 suggested I check it out. After seeing the 505 and the 700, I was immediately drawn to the 505 (standard size, a series of buttons along the edge; a quintessential original-style eReader) but knew that a new model was sure to emerge soon. I waited patiently and out came the 600 and the PRS-300 Pocket Edition (immediately ruled out; too simple, too small). The 600 intrigued me: I enjoyed handling it, the screen quality was miles ahead of where the 700 had been (though I'll admit that it's still not quite as crisp as the 505 or the 300, though it's pretty good), and the touch quality made it comfortable and convenient. But this did not sell the product to me. Again, I'm a suspicious consumer and serving as a guinea pig for eReaders did not appeal to me unless the product went above and beyond.

So Sony went above and beyond. It offered me free books. Lots of them. One of the original points that bothered me with the Kindle was that it had no library offer (incidentally, the most viewed post on this blog, thanks to numerous Google searches). eBook prices are unjustly high and in addition to purchasing the machine, I have to buy the books as well for about as much as the paperback? No thank you. But Sony's library option took my terrible original idea and made it good. I take a U.S. (or U.K.) library card, plug it into the system, see if my library participates and can then check books out. I am lucky to have 4 active library cards of which 3 are participants in the program, and given time I'm sure the fourth will join too. I add a book to my cart, check it out, upload it to my Reader and two weeks later it just expires. Simple, to the point, and blissfully free. Coupled with the ability to take advantage of Gutenberg, GoogleBooks and any PDF eBook or document... that's a lot of convenient free material. And all of it open; no DRM. I bought the PRS-600 Touch Edition in silver.

This is not to say that Amazon's price cuts the day following my purchase didn't disconcert me. The fact that it was suddenly open round the world bothered me too (much of my time is spent abroad), because that point had initially disqualified the Kindles. But I quickly realized that it was silly to second guess. I had many initial doubts with the Kindle. I still do. I don't like Amazon's totalitarian take on things - closed format, buy all through Amazon, sneaky fingers in accounts, charging for certain free public domain books (at lower prices), etc. I don't like the lack of PDF compatibility. I don't like the placement of the flip page buttons (I don't hold books that way). I don't like the 3G (which for the abroad folks probably costs a lot more than Amazon is letting on). I don't like the giant keyboard, as convenient as it may be for taking notes. Sure, the Sony's touch keyboard is a bit slow at times but it gets the job done and doesn't add extra bulk to the device. Most of all, I don't like paying for eBooks. Amazon, as ruler of the online purchasers, has created the standard expensive eBook price (my complete rant will come another time) and leads all others to follow in their footsteps, not wanting to be outdone. I want my eReader for free books and so the Sony won out with its library, its comfortable GoogleBooks support and the various other options.

Why now? Now, when things are changing every ten minutes? One day the Kindle is priced the same as the Sony, the next the Sony is the more expensive of the two. One day Sony is king of eReader land, the next Amazon launches new products. Barnes & Nobles wants to join in, the iLiad gains attention, color eReaders seem on the horizon, wi-fi is expected (at some point, hopefully)... why would I buy what seems to be a sub-par eReader now, especially if it's unreasonably priced?

I've thought about it a lot. Nervous consumer and all that. Ultimately, the current market continues changing constantly. Even if new brands pop up, I'm not going to jump to them because a new product is typically less reliable than an established brand (Sony, in this case). I can't sit around waiting for the product to be perfect because that's never going to happen. If I want to experiment with a new device, I'll need to pick one at some point and go with it, just to see how it is. Maybe at some point I'll realize that I don't like my Sony and I'll get the newest Kindle. Or I'll decide that I don't like eReaders at all and will stick to my print books with religious love. For now, I took the plunge and made my decision. Let's see what comes of it.

Winners and finalists

Last week, Hilary Mantel won the Man Booker Prize for her novel "Wolf Hall". The surprise came in that Mantel was the expected win. Bookies and fans claimed her to be the favorite and indeed she won.

That Thursday, Herta Müller won the Nobel Prize in Literature. This Romanian-born German writer was received with a lot of criticism in the U.S. immediately, as many began to cry foul, claiming that the Nobels were far too Europe-centric. Müller, virtually unknown in the U.S. until her ascension as Nobel laureate, was seen as an obscure, bad pick by many, while others insisted that the problem was with the U.S. for not recognizing one of Germany's top authors, especially one who has been translated into English (nice list here). It's an interesting debate but is fairly pointless. Instead, let's congratulate Müller on her win and get reading her works.

Meanwhile, on U.S. soil, the National Book Award Finalists have been revealed. The picks emerge from over a thousand possibilities and will probably pinpoint a truly good book (going based on previous years' winners). Here is a prize with little controversy: there's not much in the finalist lists to complain about. In addition to the finalists, Gore Vidal and Dave Eggers received the awards for Distinguished Contribution to American Letters and The Literarian Award, respectively.

Arabic, Israel and an optimistic Guardian

The Guardian's post from a couple of weeks ago, one that I think will go unnoticed by most, suggests that increased awareness might help the infamous conflict in the Middle East. How will this increased awareness be achieved? It raises the fact that for the first time ever, Egypt will see translations of works by Israeli authors and looks at the small Israeli publishers seeking to broaden their bases.

Israeli readers are spoilt for choice when it comes to tracking down international literature in Hebrew translation. [...] The literary curiosity of Hebrew readers seems to do something of a hop and a skip over their next-door neighbours before settling in further flung climes. [...] But there are attempts, small yet meaningful, to introduce Arabic literature to the Hebrew-reading public. One example is Tel Aviv-based Andalus Books. The publishing house takes its inspiration from the "golden era" of intellectual thought and activity in the Iberian peninsula[.]

A commenter below the post discusses the voracity of Israeli readers, boasting that Israeli bookstores have large English and Arabic sections, which is half true - Israeli bookstores have a fairly wide variety of English language books, Russian books and often various others, but its Arabic sections (in the major bookstores, at least) tend to be small or non-existent. Certain areas, I'm sure, can show off large Arabic-language sections (areas with prominent Arab communities, no doubt) but the vast majority of Israel's main-chain bookstores do not offer much in the way of Arabic.

The core question here is whether or not Andalus Books will be effective. The Guardian seems to think that the publishing of Arab books will lead to better days. That is unlikely. Andalus' publications will most likely go unnoticed in the country that, as the article itself mentions, is currently reading "The Elegance of the Hedgehog" and "The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo". It's not even necessarily something against Andalus' attempt. Most Israelis, like the whole world, content themselves with the bestsellers recommended to them by booksellers. And it's particularly difficult in Israel, where bookstores are notoriously tiny (though common). So aside from the fact that it's difficult for Israelis to hear about the smaller, more random presses, there's the issue of whether or not the vast majority of Israelis will want to read Arabic books in translation.

Here is where some politics enters. The honest truth is that a large group of Israelis would yell at the idea immediately. But to be even more honest, these are often the same people that wouldn't read much in the first place (no offence, guys). It is true that Israel's left would be more willing to read these books and assuredly would appreciate and enjoy some of them (assuming these are good books; quality literature). It does mean, however, that the potential audience for these books is already small and getting smaller. Yes - Israeli culture does treat reading differently than American or British culture meaning a possible opening for Arabic books in translation. On the other hand, it'll be difficult to pass along these books and their possible positive messages to wide audiences. So the Guardian's enthusiasm should wait for reality to catch up.

If not this way, how?

The Primo Parade marches on with the most recent Levi read: "If Not Now, When?". The title, which comes from a song the characters use as a sort of anthem, proves to be far more upbeat and optimistic than the brunt of the novel itself. But that's normal. The book is grim but hopeful; every character strives for the better life they might have, a character contemplating suicide presents it in a fairly negative fashion and ultimately there's always a happy ending, right?

Well, sort of. Primo Levi amazes me again and again. First, "The Periodic Table" managed to hook me onto his writing through a couple of sentences about hydrogen. Then, "If This is a Man" made me realize how much I'd been missing for years - the ultimate and original Auschwitz story, where Levi made me visit a familiar story with new eyes. The experience was quite fascinating (certainly not good or nice, but a curiously powerful sensation nonetheless). And now "If Not Now, When?". What to say?

Merely this: Every aspect that glowed in either of the previous books comes to life here. Yet in the same vein, the book is not flawless. It at times feels rushed - take, for instance, the way it is repeatedly mentioned that a certain group has 40+ members, yet only ten or so are ever named. Events only include these named characters, as though the others are only extras "to kill off" (not the case, by the way). The book also requires a flexible imagination. It is, after all, more an adventure tale than anything else and that's the core of it all. "If Not Now, When?" is a glorious novel, yet it acts like Levi's previous works. Here, too, emerge living, breathing men and women, though this time they aren't real. Here, made-up stories are carefully woven such that not a single thread remains loose. Here, the horrors of the Holocaust reveal and nauseate, reminding readers that the world is not always a grand and cheerful place.

Above all else, "If Not Now, When?" is Primo Levi's novel. 3rd person, full of adventure, love and drama, death and mayhem, fights and battles, good and evil. But Levi doesn't leave it at that. Often, main character Mendel finds himself wondering about death and killing - he wonders where the moral line must be drawn. Is it, he asks himself, legitimate to kill under any circumstances? He struggles with this train of thought throughout the whole book while others pick sides - some declare all killings unjustified and wrong, some say killing Nazis and S.S. soldiers doesn't count as murder. This question, along with other moral topics raised and masterfully handled, aims to present a full picture of life as a partisan in Poland and the Soviet Union. Primo Levi may not have lived this life, but "If Not Now, When?" proves that he was certainly an excellent enough writer to bring it to existence nonetheless.