When I get a little money I buy books; and if any is left I buy food and clothes. -- Erasmus
One afternoon in Cape Town I sat in my little room at University House and took inventory. This must have been in June, winter in the southern hemisphere, and it had been raining steadily for most of a week. I was virtually alone in the student residence; the others had packed off for vacation. With an umbrella and plastic slicker I'd ventured out once or twice to the Pig and Whistle, where I favored the Ploughman's Lunch, but to sustain life I'd laid in a supply of tinned sardines, cheddar and swiss cheese, Hob Nobs, apples, Carr's Water Biscuits, ginger cookies, Hershey bars, biltong, sausage and a pot of jam. I had a little electric coil that would bring a cup of water to a boil, a jar of Nescafe, a box of sugar and some Instant Postum.
Not my office, but very close
I wrote in my journal: "I have not spoken to anyone since Monday. The radio is playing 'Downtown' by Petula Clerk. I've been reading some Shaw -- Man and Superman. I'm wearing jeans, my cable knit sweater and my Keds. I've made coffee and am waiting for it to cool. Let it be recorded that at this moment I am happy."
University House was a two-sided row of rooms opening from common sidewalks. It had been built for troops during the war, and now housed graduate students. The water poured down the roof and collected in an exposed gutter which hurried it along somewhere downhill. I have long had this peculiar love of sitting very close to the rain and yet remaining protected--in a cafe, on a porch, next to a window, or there in that room, which had two iron-paned windows and a Dutch door. After a warning from our house mother, I'd gone to the OK Bazaar and purchased a small electric heater.
"What do I really need that isn't here in this room?" I asked. "Its dimensions are a little more than twice as wide and deep as I am tall. I don't know, maybe 150 square feet? Here I have the padded wood chair in which I sit tilted against the wall, my feet braced on my straight desk chair. I am holding the three-inch-thick Paul Hamlyn edition of Shaw's complete plays. This room contains: A wood single bed, an African blanket covering it, a wood desk and its gooseneck lamp, a small dresser with a mirror over it, my portable typewriter, a small wardrobe containing my clothes, a steamer trunk serving as a coffee table, and two bookcases, filled to overflowing. What more do I actually need?"
To this inventory I would today add: A rice cooker, knife and cutting board, to prepare my meals; a small refrigerator; and a MacBook and nice speakers to supply the internet, music, videos and TV. There wasn't room for a proper TV.Chaz and I have lived for 20 years in a commodious Chicago house with three floors, a furnished basement apartment and an exercise room we built on the roof-top deck. This house is not empty. To my 1965 edition of Shaw, which cost me about two quid and now sells for $119, Chaz and I have added, I dunno, maybe 3,000 or 4,000 books, countless videos and CDs, lots of art, rows of photographs, rooms full of comfortable furniture, a Buddha from Thailand, two elephants from India, African chairs and statues, and who knows what else.
Of course I cannot do without a single one of these possessions, including more or else every book I have owned since I was seven, starting with Huckleberry Finn. I still have all the Penrod books, and every time I look at them, I'm reminded of Tarkington's inventory of the contents of Penrod's pants pockets. After reading it a third time, I jammed my pockets with a pocket knife, a Yo-Yo, marbles, a compass, a stapler, an oddly-shaped rock, a hardball, a ball of rubber bands and three jawbreakers. These, in an ostensible search for a nickel, I emptied out on the counter of Harry Rusk's grocery, so that Harry Rusk could see that I was a Real Boy.
My books are a subject of much discussion. They pour from shelves onto tables, chairs and the floor, and Chaz observes that I haven't read many of them and I never will. You just never know. One day I may -- need is the word I use -- to read Finnegans Wake, the Icelandic sagas, Churchill's history of the Second World War, the complete Tintin in French, 47 novels by Simenon, and By Love Possessed. That 1957 best-seller by James Could Cozzens was eviscerated in a famous essay by Dwight Macdonald, who read through that year's list of fiction best sellers and surfaced with a scowl. It and the other books on the list have been rendered obsolete, so that his essay is cruelly dated. But I remember reading the novel late into the night when I was 14, stirring restlessly with the desire to be possessed by love.
I cannot throw out these books. Some are protected because I have personally turned all their pages and read every word; they're like little shrines to my past hours. Perhaps half were new when they came to my life, but most are used, and I remember where I found every one. The set of Kipling at the Book Nook on Green Street in Champaign. The scandalous The English Governess in a shady book store on the Left Bank in 1965 (Obilisk Press, $2, today $91). The Shaw plays from Cranford's on Long Street in Cape Town, where Irving Freeman claimed he had a million books; it may not have been a figure of speech. Like an alcoholic trying to walk past a bar, you should see me trying to walk past a used book store.Other books I can't throw away because--well, they're books, and you can't throw away a book, can you? Not even a cookbook from which we have prepared even a single recipe, for it is a meal preserved and happy time then shared, in printed form. The very sight of Quick and Easy Chinese Cooking by Kenneth H. C. Lo quickens my pulse. Its pages are stained by broth, sherry, soy sauce and chicken fat, and so thoroughly did I master it that I once sought out Ken Lo's Memories of China on Ebury street in London and laid eyes on the great man himself, dining alone in a little room near the entrance. A book like that, you're not gonna throw away.
Hob Nobs, plain and chocolate
I can't throw out anything. Perhaps I foresaw that when I wrote my journal entry. I possibly don't require half the shirts I have ever owned. But look at this faded Chamois Cloth Shirt from L. L. Bean, purchased through the mail in about 1973 from a two-inch ad in the back of The New Yorker: The longer you wear it, the more it feels like chamois! I've been wearing it a long, long time. I can't say it feels like chamois, never having worn chamois. But I want to work on it some more.I also need this tea mug from Keats House in Hampstead, even though its handle is broken off. I need it to hold these ball-point pens I had printed with the words, No good movie is too long. No bad movie is short enough. They were 100 for $39, I think. The ink has all dried up over the years, but I still need need them in order to provide a purpose for the mug.
And here are my thick reference books. Not only the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, but the small tiny-type edition of the complete OED, which came with its own magnifying glass. And Bartlett's Familiar Quotations, the Cambridge Companion to English Literature, the 1967 edition of Halliwell's Filmgoer's Companion, a hardbound London A to Z from 1975, and two dozen books on the occult, including the Tarot, the I Ching and The Autobiography of Aleister Crowley, who was a certified flywheel, but surely wrote one of the best of Edwardian autobiographies (Crowley explained that he invented modern British mountain climbing in the Himilayas after his predecessors "had themselves carried up by Sherpas").
In idle hours I like to leaf through my well-worn leather-bound 1970 edition of Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, (£5, used)which offers entries not to be found elsewhere:
Jack system An Australian phrase denoting the pursuit of one's own interests at the expense of others.Giotto's O. The old story goes that the Pope, wishing to employ artists from all over Italy, send a messenger to collect specimen of their work. When the man approached Giotto (c. 1267-1337), the artist paused for a moment from the picture he was working on and with his brush drew a perfect circle on a piece of paper. In surprise the man returned to the Pope, who, appreciating the perfection of Giotto's artistry and skill by his unerring circle, employed Giotto forthwith.
October Club. In the reign of Queen Anne, a group of High Tory MPs who met at tavern near Parliament to drink October Ale and abuse the Whigs.
Now here is the Penguin paperback of Aspley Cherry Garrard's The Worst Journey in the World, the story of his agonizing 900-mile trek through the darkness of the Antarctic winter to investigate the mating habits of the penguin. The book is as long as the walk. I may likely not read it a second time. Do I require two later editions? Of course I do. You just never know. And the second and third editions of the Columbia Encyclopedia? You bet.Chaz gave me this facsimile of Shakespeare's First Folio. Will I ever read it? Not with that spelling and typography. But I will always treasure it. I look at it sometimes, and wonder at the genius of the man. What, for that matter, of my other editions of Shakespeare? The little blue volumes of the Yale Shakespeare, and the editions by Oxford, the Easton Press and the Folio Society? Handsome books, finely made. But I always read only my battered and underlined old Riverside Shakespeare from college, because it was edited by G. Blakemore Evans, and he was my professor, you see. I tried reading a Folio volume once. Just the right page size, one (not two) columns to the page, elegant typography. I just couldn't. I felt like I was cheating on G. Blakemore.
My possessions are getting away from me. We have an agreement. My office is my office. Chaz has her own book-filled office, and takes care that the rest of the house is clean and orderly. My office has a glass door with this gilt lettering:
The Ebert Company, Ltd.
Fine Film Criticism since 1967.
I have not been been able to even get into the storage closet of my office for four years. The room is lined floor to ceiling with film books, and the shelves of directors and actors with names beginning H, I, J, K and L are blocked by piles of stuff on the floor. What? You expect me to throw out my first Tandy 100? And there's a 40-year run of Sight and Sound there somewhere.
I have a book (here somewhere) named Rodinsky's Room, by Rachel Lichtenstein and Iain Sinclair, about a mysterious London cabalistic scholar named David Rodinsky who in 1969 disappeared from his attic above a synagogue on Princelet Street in the East End. His flat was strangely left undisturbed for years, and when it was opened all was exactly as he left it -- his books, papers, possessions, even a a pot of porridge on the stove.
That's what I should do. Just turn the key and walk away, and move into 150 square feet. Get me a little electric coil to boil the coffee water. Just my Shakespeare, some Henry James, and of course Willa Cather, Colette and Simenon. Two hundred books, tops. Brewer's. But no. there wouldn't be room for Chaz, and I would miss her terribly. That I could never abide. And what if I needed one of these books?
¶
"My name is Susie and I'm a 22 year old girl living in Arizona. Diet soda and used books fuel my existence. I love how the kindle is marketed as a 'wireless reading device' - isn't that what a book is?"
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50,000 Books, El Cajon, California
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George Whitman of Shakespeare & Co., Paris. Many of you may have met him.
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He has left nothing to say about nothing or any thing. -John Keats, letter to John Hamilton Reynolds (22 Nov. 1817)
¶
Dear Mr. Ebert,
First of all, thank you for blogging about books.
In a day when Steve Jobs can be perfectly serious when he said "Nobody reads anymore," it's good to see someone from the world of film bring some focus back to the written word.
One thing, however: how come no props for the Jeremy Ahn's short stories, novels, or poetry, bro?
I would trade my signed OOP Criterion Collection Brazil DVD for a blurb from the Ebert.
From one Pimp Supreme to another,
Jeremy Ahn
I have a confession. I keep a copy of Stock Trading for Dummies on my nightstand purely for aesthetic reasons. Sure I've read through it, but by the end I discovered I have little interest in the book's subject or the information contained therein. Still, I keep it around in case anyone sees. Can't have the girls thinking I completely lack all ambition, can I?
Of far more importance on both mine and my best friend's shelf rest thick, worn paperback copies of James Clavell's complete Asian Saga, the covers weak already from the sheer size of the damned things, and weaker still from our repeated reads through them. We wear those novels like a badge.
You really weren't kidding when you wrote, "We provide full service here." Thanks!
I was raised by my father to believe that throwing away books was wrong. I have been homeless a couple of times over the last few years, and while I managed to save my books for a long time I ultimately had to give them to a friend to sell. He'd let me crash at his place for a month rent free and I ended up storing them at his place after that, so I thought it only fair. Now I'd rather have been in the streets than to have lost all of those books.
I've since restarted my collection, and in just over a year I have probably 100-200 books. I am glad to know that I'm not the only one who ends up with an almost embarrassing number I've yet to read. Lately I've just been greedy, getting as many as I can. Used bookstores are indeed one of the better parts of capitalism--if you ever go to Portland, ME I'd recommend Yes Books on Congress Street. The books are packed into shelves, stacked eight feet high, placed a claustrophobic distance apart and even still you have to dodge loose stacks of them at every turn and corner. The smell is intoxicating.
As for Crowley, say what you will about him, he is one of the smartest men to have lived in the last few centuries--a figure somewhat akin to Leonardo, I think. He was a polymath, a polyglot and perhaps the most famous Mage of all time. I have yet to read the Autobiography, but when I get it I don't imagine it'll go unread for long.
I also think Susie and I would get along swimmingly. I wonder what she thinks of homeless guys...
Scintillating!
Here's a diametrically different viewpoint!
Your journal entry (from the 2nd paragraph of this entry) made me smile. It reminded me of reading Don DeLillo's "Underworld" near the end of my junior year, sitting in the middle of the campus, mostly deserted and just enjoying words and the world and being happy. I've made it a point to buy the books I read, whenever possible (though I do love being in libraries too), just because, like you said, you never know. I can lend it out, open it up and read underlined sections and margin notes, or read it again if I like. There is no worse feeling than finding myself out and about without a book. And it is my deep belief that one of the most pleasing phrases in the English language is "hardback book." Happy reading and thinking and whatever else.
Here's a journal entry of mine from the 9th of July 2001, when I was the occupant of a 120 square feet room that contained: a steel desk and chair, a single bed with detachable poles at the four corners for a mosquito net, and two barred windows that looked out into the jungle.
P.S. At the time, I was a 22-year old volunteer with a Jesuit Mission that was working on drought-relief and water-harvesting with secluded tribes in the northern hinterlands of Gujarat state, India.
"Brought back to reality with an inglorious THUD - My first real contact with alcoholism in action, screw-ups as regards my room and facilities (basic), etc. has put me back in touch with the erratic nature of emotion. It can lift you to buoyancy with little stimulus and can plunge you to the depths of depression without so much as a whisper. Maybe those anti-depressants can help, the ones that I have been so studiously avoiding.
On a brighter note, reading has been good with all the rich variety of literature available. It provides sweet, blessed distraction to the mundane quality of life here, especially when work tactlessly forced upon invades the special space that privacy grants to those who value it.
Presently reading:
The Truth Will Make You Free - Swami Shilananda s.j.
Krishna and Christ - Dr. Ishanand Vempeny s.j.
The Rituals of Our Lives - Robert Fulghum
ABCs of the Human Mind - Readers Digest
... and continuing my study of;
The Message of the Upanisads - Swami Ranganathananda.
Thank God for reading."
Love your work, Roger!
Books, books and more books. That's a home to me. Without books, it's just a house.
I own maybe 3000 books all told, probably many more if you count magazines and weird odd and ends like "Criswell Predicts: Your future from now until the year 2000". Of those I have read maybe 1000.
Three of my favorites:
The Poltergeist 2 novelization by James Kahn, both because it is a genuinely good book that's far superior to the dreadful film, and because it is the first real book I ever read that didn't have pictures in it. I sat on the porch and sweated through paragraphs, trying to make sense of things without a cartoon character acting it out for me. It was bliss.
"It" by Stephen King. This is the second book I ever read and the first "proper" book. I have fond memories of spending all night reading, then going into a fitful light sleep so that I could read some more the second I wake up.
"Ghost Story" by Peter Straub. Oddly enough it's rather similar to the King work. I bought it because I'd seen the movie (which I liked) and thought it would be similar. It is not, and what a delight to discover this.
Books are wonderful things that stimulate the imagination and let it soar. Even sillier books about alien abductions or ghosts are worth reading simply because they propose that the world is so vast and rich in experience. I hate to use a cliche, but they expand your mind.
I could live without music or films, I could not live without books.
Hob Nobs look really good. Do they still make them?
Ebert: For under $14, you can try three varieties. Scroll down to :"Frequently Bought Together."
http://www.amazon.com/Mcvities-Hob-Nobs-300-G/dp/B000VJD5LQ/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=grocery&qid=1254840541&sr=8-1-catcorr .
Maybe you ought to listen to good 'ole Jerry Seinfeld:
-----------------------------------------------------
JERRY: So forget about the books. Did you read them?
GEORGE: Well, yeah.
JERRY: What do you need them for?
GEORGE: I don't know. They're "books."
JERRY: What is this OBSESSION people have with books? They put them in their houses - like they're trophies. What do you NEED it for AFTER you READ it?
-----------------------------------------------------
At least with movies, they have that more accessible "re-discovery" factor. Plus, this may conflict with purists, but it's the 21st century. All these books can possibly be digitized or have digitized versions of themselves so you can probably hire someone to store them all on your hard drive.
But going back to your predicament of not wanting to throw the ones you "haven't" read out. Could it possibly be some subconscious desire to hold onto all the memories behind the book? Even though some of those memories are quite meaningless?
I remember an a relative giving me a long and boring 1000 page book for my birthday; I have not since read that book, but I keep for a reason I still cannot comprehend. So I guess I am in the boat as you.
Btw, Mr Ebert. I have been a loyal reader since I was 13. I would read your reviews ONLINE and subsequently would watch the 'GREAT' films you would recommend. I am 19 now and just want to say you have really broadened my perceptions and opinions on films and culture. This is my first comment on the blog, and hopefully it won't be my last!
Thanks for the education!
I could not possibly keep all the books I have read over the years, much less those I have possessed but never gotten around to reading. Right now I would estimate I have around 2000 books in the house, many in unsteady stacks that my insurance company would not approve of. I prune the ever growing numbers at every opportunity. Some I sell at used book stores, but this raises the difficulty that I usually get talked into selling them for store credit which then inevitably leads to bringing more books home. Better yet is to lend them to friends. Many of those never come back. I have trouble getting friends to understand they are doing me a favor not to return them. There are a few irreplaceable out of print books I won't lend out, but not many. I often think it would be so much easier just to pitch some in the trash, but I can't quite make myself do it.
I've been out of college for two years and have recently cleaned out my room.
In the process I have come across many books I rushed through or have simply forgotten. I put them on my desk and have decided to give them another go.
Halfway through TROPIC OF CANCER and about three chapters into THE HAUNTED SCREEN. I feel like an English major once again, only this time I'm enjoying myself much more.
Who would have thought two years would make that much of a difference?
Great post Roger. As always....
I greatly enjoyed this post. I am still in college (in fact, at this very moment sitting in my $10 Goodwill armchair with my feet on a $5 coffee table [admittedly with MacBook, speakers and internet]) and it is a struggle every time I move from home to school to pick the books that I think I will be most likely to wake up in the middle of the night and want to read.
I'm not certain that my Barnes & Noble classics editions will appreciate in value like your books have, however.
Books: A Love Story
I combined my love of art and books. I don’t think in terms of weeks or months, but rather in terms of years or decades—I’m beginning to sound like Nosferatu. Anyway, I spent ten years building up a library of Franklin Library, Easton Press, and other fine quality books, and of course just ordinary hardbacks. It served the purpose of both a hobby and a passion—Goodwills, flea markets, and the like. Lots of fun. And unlike many hobbies, the investment in money, time, and memories remains.
I stopped collecting books when I ran out of room for more. But there they are ready and waiting anytime I need them. And I do need them. Old friends from over 2,000 years ago up till recent times speak to me. Their wisdom keeping me uplifted when I’m feeling down and friendless. Homer, Epictetus, Aristotle, Plato, the ancient Greek playwrights, Dante, Plutarch, etc. The books that nonreaders laugh at but have sadly never read. Up till recent times: “Out of Africa,”both the book and the film are my favorites in both categories. And they complement one another unlike any such combination I’ve come across. And then there’s Truman Capote. What a writer! I couldn’t handle “In Cold Blood.” Too sad. But his other novels and his short stories are such a joy.
Of the many of your articles which I have read, enjoyed and admired, I am especially fond of this one. Perhaps it is because I am able to relate so passionately to its subject matter. (Especially this: "Like an alcoholic trying to walk past a bar, you should see me trying to walk past a used book store.") Savannah, Georgia, where I have lived for five years, has one of the most antiquated used book stores you will likely ever see. My girlfriend used to openly claim to the manager when we walked in that "[you] are responsible for his electric getting cut-off, I just want you to know that." In the meantime, don't feel bad about Finnegans Wake -- we all have that problem.
The first “grown up” book I have ever read was Jack London’s The Call of the Wild. I think I was six. Even as a kid, I was an avid reader, and my parents were kind (or wise) enough to let me discover literature in my own time. So they never stopped me from reading Conan The Barbarian, Superman, or Spider-Man. Conan was particularly integral to the way my tastes developed – it led to an interest in mythology, which served as a direct link to literature. So when I sat down to read about Buck’s anthropomorphic adventures in the frigid Yukon, I felt right at home, since I could associate his travails with those of Jason or Perseus.
That first copy of The Call of the Wild is at my parents’ home in Ankara. The last time I was there this summer, I almost picked it up again – but then I decided to leave it on the shelf, standing there proudly among other childhood favourites: Joseph Campbell’s The Hero with a Thousand Faces, The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, and The Book of Dede Korkut, etc.
My books are now in three separate places – in my living room, stacked away under the two sofas in the guest bedroom, and my parents’ place. The library in my living room contains the most recently purchased ones, as well as my perennial favourites. It is there you will find the complete works of George Orwell, PG Wodehouse, and Evelyn Waugh. I have annotated all of them, of course; their margins full of scribbled notes from various stages of my life – different shades of ink and varied handwriting mirrors of my mood and soul through time and space.
It is on those shelves that Aengus still searches for his glimmering girl, Quinquireme rows home, and the Light Brigade readies for its final charge. John of Gaunt is there, reciting his immortal encomium to England; and also the fair Prince as he remembers the jester of most excellent fancy.
I keep coming back to Isaac Asimov’s Guide to the Bible, and The Ancestor’s Tale by Richard Dawkins. How could I not – they’re beautiful. I can’t let go of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s The Social Contract or Tom Paine’s The Rights of Man, either. AJP Taylor’s The Origins of the Second World War is not on the book shelf, it’s on my night stand.
A la recherche du temps perdu is still waiting for me, and I aim to finish it before I, myself, am lost in time. I can’t believe I have yet to read the entirety of Gulliver’s Travels, but there we go. Soon, I’m sure.
Genre fiction got me into this mess, and I have a soft spot for it even still. I have most of the Arthur C Clarke books on the shelf – how could I not? The man wrote one of my favourite sentences (“Overhead, without any fuss, the stars were going out”). And I find myself revisiting The League of Extraordinary Gentlemen books quite often these days. I love the way The Black Dossier ends: our heroes find The Blazing World, a sort of heaven where characters from all of fiction live in harmony, as Prospero sings: “Here are brave banners of romance unfurled, to blaze forever in a Blazing World!”
Ebert: London and Stevenson both suffer from the impression that they wrote children's books. The Call of the Wild is an important novel.
Only bibliophiles can understand bibliophiles. Trying to explain my obsession with books to my wife has proved impossible.
Ebert: In case any spouses are reading this thread, this warning:
The words dust-catchers are grounds for divorce in some jurisdictions.
English satirist Terry Pratchett came up with the following equation--Knowledge = power = energy = matter = mass. Therefore, any large collection of books of just a genteel black hole.
Ebert: That may explain why, as I am pulled helplessly into my books on Darwin, my information seems incapable of being sent back out to creationists.
My first reaction was: I wish my husband would read this. However, I don't think he'd be convinced that I need every book I have. I have a collection of dictionaries having studied Spanish, French, Japanese and Chinese and art books and art exhibit catalogs. Some books are just lovely to look at and some have such great memories.
Some tea, ginger cookies and a computer (maybe a dog--an old one what just needs attention now and then to get you out for some exercise). I love a good bookstore and time to wander around and find whatever might happen to catch my interest.
Ebert: A dog! I knew my room was lacking something.
You've perfectly evoked my upstairs hallway, my bedside night table, and the end table in the living room where I sit and read when the kids are watching tv. I usually try to follow Groucho Marx's example when he commented that he always found television to be highly educational - whenever someone turned one on, he went into another room and read a good book.
Roger:
I sympathize with the need to keep a book around - you never know when you will want to refer back to it. My engineering colleagues have sizable collections that they continually refer back to - it is a necessity in that case.
I find that my books fall into a few categories:
- My very favorite books, that I will most likely savor (read) again and again. They age like fine wine. Correction - they do not age, but I do, and each time I read them, I come at the work from a new perspective, and often see things that were not apparent before.
- Picture and coffee table books, inspiration as I am an artist and photographer. Some are just for casual browsing, others are a reference. Some are wonderful historical documentaries of places and things that no longer exist.
- A few books kept because they are rare or signed, in addition to being a favorite. Those are the only ones I have duplicates of. One to read, the other to sit there for some reason. The lucky ones got read then signed - a personal treasure.
- Travel guides and other useful reference which I refer back to often.
- Books that I have read which I may not read again, but are good enough to keep and loan out when needed.
- Books I haven't read yet. I try to keep this queue down to 10 or so tomes.
Every once in a long while, I go through it and find a few things I no longer feel the need to keep around. I am reminded to do this when I move and get tired of lugging around the collection. I have become so good at moving however, that I know exactly how many boxes I need and what goes into each box. One day I will stop this habit and stay.
Like many avid readers, the books are in the living room and the television is in a room by itself, a home theater to which I occasionally wander to put in a blu-ray disc from netflix. The television is not a part of daily life, something I am reminded that is quite uncommon when visiting other people's homes. Without trying to sound too terribly snobby, I think this is generally to their detriment.
A good writer is a good reader as they say, and it's not surprising that you have such a collection.
I savor a real book with pages, and have not quite been able to embrace an electronic reader. Especially when I can buy used paperbacks for a few dollars on Amazon, and the reader costs hundreds on top of the high price they charge you for receiving your non-book bits.
--Mike
One more thought that I wish to impart is that there is always this nagging feeling, especially after watching Mad Max, that there is a not-insignificant chance that future history could turn out in a way that makes a printed book collection once again very valuable. I'd like to think not, but the books are a good insurance plan against boredom in the apocalypse. I think that plays a small part in the decision to have a 'collection' rather than to give away or make wider use of a public library.
Hate it when my book collection outgrows my book closet. Now I have to push them back and put the new ones on front, or make piles of them. Well, the closet looks used this way, and that is a good thing. Actually it doesn't really matter what a book collection looks like.
I believe Douglas Adams had a made-up word for the expression of a person checking out someone elses book collection.
By the way, Icelandic Sagas rule!
Hi,
Thanks for the post. Finally, someone who understands the feeling of not being able to throw away anything, especially books. My collection, though not as extensive as yours, covers a considerable area of my flat but once in every few months when I work up the courage to try to 'arrange' them according to some order, I never actually quite finish the task. The reason? I dig up something delightful and forgotten and start reading. I compare the experience with finding twenty rupee notes in old jeans pockets. I used to have a little electric coil in my college hostel as well, used to turn the trip down of the entire ground floor almost every time I tried plugging it in but definitely worth having it.
I completely agree Roger. A shelf full of books is one of the most glorious sights. A book is hours of entertainment or interesting facts or stories about people who died a hundred years ago or a million other things. It's just sitting there between the covers, waiting for me to discover it! That just thrills me, just to think that someone spent months or even years to make something and I have it, in my hand, waiting to be consumed. And while my collection does not even begin to approach yours, I probably have more books that I haven't read than ones that I have. Just like movies, it seems like every day I find a new book that I have to read! I fear that I will never have enough time to read them all (and I'm only 20!).
(I think you could move to a little room, but you may just have to make it 300 square feet so Chaz can fit!)
I miss many things about Cape Town.
But not the weather.
I struggle to convince my wife that I NEED all the books on my bookshelves. As you would expect of someone who has degrees in wildlife biology, most of them are about animals –birds in particular in my case. But one, “At a Bend in a Mexican River” by George Miksch Sutton, is the most influential book of my life. I’ve read and re-read it dozens of times since I discovered it in the Port Isabel (TX) public library when I was twelve. I’ve had my own copy since I was a few years older than that. My interest in birds took me to many places that Sutton mentioned in this and other books he wrote. A couple of years ago, I found a signed copy of it in the rare books section of a Half-Price Books in Austin. I’ve never had the slightest interest in collecting autographs, but I had to have this copy as well. They sit side by side on my bookshelf, and even when I’m not reading one of them, I frequently take one out to look at the magnificent watercolors that Sutton painted of Mexican birds – birds that seemed far too beautiful to actually exist when I was twelve. I’m glad I’ve had the opportunity to see many of them for myself.
Ebert: Sutton used, "very good," at $22:
http://cgi.ebay.com/At-a-Bend-in-a-Mexican-River.-:-George-Miksch-Sutton-%28Hardcover,-1972%29_W0QQitemZ341200405645QQcmdZViewItemQQimsxZ20090918?IMSfp=TL090918206004r28422
I struggle with my hoarding impulse. I hold on to personal objects out of a terrible fear that to lose (or actively jettison) them would be to lose (or actively jettison) the memories to which they are attached. Although there are good things about taking such an approach, I worry that I limit my personal growth by kowtowing to my terror of losing touch with the past (which I suspect is somewhat, perhaps largely baseless).
I wonder what I would do/how I would feel if all my possessions were destroyed in a house fire. Would I continue to function? Surely. Would the core of my person remain intact? Certainly. Not a pleasant thought, though, is it!
"For every piece you buy you have to move one piece out of your house". The advice given this week on how to keep your house orderly and clean. But how can one throw away those old books? This weekend my library will sell their old books. I'll be happy to walk around there and find some treasures. Of course I'll probably never read half the books I arrive home with but I can't pass a classic for €1. Right? Neither can I get rid of the books I bought there last year. Who knows, maybe I'll read them in twenty years. And the copy I found of War and Peace for €0.10, I just have to read that one of these days.
Collecting games has gotten easier recently. Lots of platforms arose which offer the games through downloads. I have fifty online games but they don't take up any shelf space. In ten years I wonder if all our books will be on online devices such as the kindle. Lots of books but still enough place to keep a dog.
PS. With Simenon you have a part of Belgium in your house. And I've never read one of his works! Any books by him that you can recommend?
Ebert: This is going to sound like a strange comment, but any lover of Simeon will know what I mean. It doesn't really matter which one you start with. Just start with the first Simenon that comes to hand. None of his novels are very long. There are two categories, Inspector Maigret and all the others.
http://www.trussel.com/f_maig.htm
Paul Theroux thinks he may be better than Camus:
http://entertainment.timesonline.co.uk/tol/arts_and_entertainment/the_tls/article3539880.ece
"Simenon takes some sorting out, because at first glance he seems easily classified and on second thoughts – after you have read fifty or sixty of his books – unclassifiable."
And here online is the complete English translation of possibly his first Simenon novel, published in 1929 under the name "Georges Sim." The famous style is already in place. Observation: Theroux is right. You should read several of his books so that the effect sinks in. At first glance Simenon may appear to be doing nothing at all.
http://www.trussel.com/f_maig.htm
I squealed with joy upon catching sight of this new entry! BOOKS! As now I get to think about them even more than I already do; smile.
"I also need this tea mug from Keats House in Hampstead, even though its handle is broken off." - Roger
I have a tea mug much the same, and for every crack and chip it bears like the Velveteen Rabbit, it becomes all the more dear to me. I throw nothing out either. I have my morning coffee in that mug. I've got a t-shirt from Paris with one their University's crests on it. And one from London with Cambridge. Both have been washed so many times they're practically translucent and holes are everywhere. They've never been so comfortable.
Books are everywhere in my apartment. Some tiny, others weighing a ton. Some very old and falling apart - others newly arrived and for which I thank you again. :)
One of my favorites is "The World of Edward Gorey" - as there's so much to be gleamed from his drawings...
http://www.gallerynucleus.com/item/image0/3258/7irq9u/book_edwardgorey_front.jpg
Another prized volume is "Paris Mon Amour" - Taschen Books...
http://www.taschen.com/pages/en/catalogue/photography/all/03851/facts.paris_mon_amour.htm
It's a B/W compilation of renowned photographers such as Joseph Nicéphore Niepce, Henri Cartier-Bresson, Robert Doisneau, and Jeanloup Sieff to name a few. It found me one afternoon while I was browsing in the jam packed basement of my favorite treasure trove - Salmangundi's - an old fashioned art & curiosity shop which sells unique gifts and toys; like shadow puppets from Jakarta. Smile.
And here, it's happy owners:
http://farm1.static.flickr.com/225/451610879_f0918d4961.jpg
I've got "Anna of the Five Towns" by Arnold Bennett, The complete works of William Shakespeare, Jane Austen's "Pride & Prejudice", an illustrated edition of "Jane Eyre" by Charlotte Bronte - just to name a few of the classics. Along with countless graphics novels - "The Killing Joke" by Alan Moore my favorite of those. And let's not forget Harry Potter. :)
And then books filled with reference material, as you can never get enough of that when you're an artist - like "Decorative Antique Ironwork" by Dover Books; over 4,500 images of every conceivable key, latch, hinge, gate and door knocker, and everything else you could imagine.
I've got books about castles, cathedrals, Romantique, Islamic and Byzantine art and countless others devoted to Post-Impressionism and Western Art in general. I've got a little bit everything, including books about Film and stars like Ingrid Bergman and director/writers such as Woody Allen. Some guy named Roger Ebert, too. :)
Architecture and landscapes makes up a sizable chunk as well - "Treasure Houses of England" - that was a total score; on sale! A large book, in long format like a widescreen movie. Huge pan shots of Beaulieu, Blenheim Palace, Burghley House, Castle Howard, Chatsworth, Harewood House, Holkham Hall, Leeds Castle, Warwick Castle, Woburn Abbey - ahh!
And then of course, there are the cook books. :)
Having books in a room is like having company you genuinely enjoy. You're never alone when there's a book you love within reach. I don't think it's possible to have too many books, rather, just not enough space to put them.
I have few measuring sticks by which I judge a person. I try to be Zen and go with the flow. But of the sticks I do have, books are one of them.
If you don't like to read, if reading is a chore, if you don't have any books at all - then you and I cannot be friends for clearly, we're just non simpatico.
I live 3 blocks from a library which for me, is like living next to a crack house when you're an addict. I'm always in there taking out something. Or returning it to avoid a fine. And what a painful thing it is, to find a wonderful book... only to then have to part with it! Especially if it's out of print - as now it's like, the Holy Grail or something to find it, eh?
Here is such a book - "Spaghetti For Breakfast" by Sesyle Joslin (1965)
http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/sb1.jpg
This is now one of the rarest children's books ever. As no one would willing part with a copy of it. It's just that wonderful. I've had to be content with scanning all the pages from it.
If you guys ever see it - pounce!
I rarely comment but I have read your blog since the first day. Today I saw the Erasmus quote at the top and was pretty certain I'd have to comment. I have been a stay at home mom for 19 years and just re-entered the workforce (my wish was to do so as a library assistant but our governor and state legislature seem determined to abolish libraries via outrageous funging cuts so there are no library jobs to be had...but I digress). With my first paycheck last week I bought books. I have never been a shoe shopper. Clothing shopping is an exercise in utter frustration. Grocery shopping, though I enjoy cooking, is merely a chore. Books, books, glorious books. I knew it was dnagerous for me to walk into Borders with a freshly cashed paycheck.
Like you, I have shelves of books waiting to be read. Some were gifts, others I treated myself to. Even more dangerous than Borders is our annual library used book sale. At a dollar for paperbacks and $2 for hardback how can you go wrong? On $3/bag days it's irresistible. On the last day when it's $1 for an entire bag of used books it's unrestrained madness.
I grew up surrounded by my dad's massive collection of books. I briefly worked in a bookstore when I was first married. It was more like play. I read to my babies before they could hold their heads up independantly. I fed them books to match their interests throughout the course of their lives. I chaired the Reading is Fundamental program in the local school so that 3 times a year I saw to it that every student in the school got a free book he or she could keep forever and ever. Matching a kid with a book he or she really wanted was so much fun. Seeing kids' faces light up when they realized they didn't have to bring the book back, nor did they have to pay for it, was a special joy.
I still have picture books from my own childhood and an old copy of Grimm's Fairy Tales. I remember my first chapter book. I remember the biographies that spoke to me and gave me courage. I've had the privilege of reading manuscripts that friends went on to have published. I enjoy the pride of seeing my own brother's short stories published in Alfred Hitchcock's Mystery Magazine. Books are memories. Books are friends. Books are comfort.
They provide a certain sensual pleasure, whether old or new. There's a satisfying feeling in being the first to fully crack the spine of a new book and feel the pages part. The smell of a leatherbound volume is worth a moment of pause for a deep inhalation. Even the slight mustiness of an old book is like catching a whiff of an old flame's cologne.
Ultimately I want to be a librarian. Sometimes I wonder if I am more likely to work for someone else or perhaps start my own in my den. Eitherway, I get to be surrounded by books.
Thanks for this post. It's always a pleasure to find a kindred spirit where books are concerned.
And books are easier to carry around! I had abandoned furniture before for being heavy and having the need to be carried about for as long as I owned it. There are books that need to be left at home and some to be taken on the road. So I had abandoned books before but never have I thrown any out. I feel that the right time might come when those that I did not understand before might carry out its intentions in the future. My book collection is just the result of fishing around for the right one. This is the situation with my music and movie collection. All I really need are a few good books. These are the ones that can be taken anywhere. I always take Catullus, Baudelaire, Emily Dickinson, Keats, T.S Eliot, Pound, and Joyce. It be great if I only needed one.
Through the years and 32 moves later, I have had to part with many books. Some of them became musty after ten years of living in Key West and went to the used book store. My allergies stopped me from keeping them.
My old friend, Mary Ann, and I tried to decide, if we had too, which we could give up, books or movies.
We never came up with an answer.
It's such a relief to learn that I am not the only one whose book collection contains titles I haven't quite gotten around to yet. Often I'll look at the Folio Society's History of England series and think, 'I'll get to it...someday,' or imagine finally digging into 'The Magic Mountain' or 'Enigma.' But the thing is, they look great, feel great, and - admit it - smell great.
I collect books just as I collect movies. I could subscribe to Netflix and take books out of the library. But there's something comforting about surrounding yourself with creative works, knowing that at any moment you can take one out and enjoy it. Plus, as you mention, there is that sentimental attachment to specific books. If, for example, I lost my copy of 'Mike Mulligan and His Steam Shovel,' I might die.
In a house with limited space, my wife and I have an understanding: If I acquire more books than our shelves and cases can accommodate, something's got to go. Since that 'if' is always a 'when,' I typically end up putting a few volumes in a cardboard box and storing it in the attic, until such time as we can afford building an addition for a proper library. She would prefer an in-law apartment. I suppose there may be room for negotiating.
You've heard it a million times, Roger, but I am an avid reader of your blog. I have enjoyed your movie reviews for years, and now that enjoyment has extended to your insightful, thought-provoking, humorous, emotional, and - hallelujah - liberal essays. In a world of mindless rantings and posturing, your postings are an oasis of rational thinking...of sanity and calm. Thanks.
Ebert: Of course you want the leather-bound limited edition:
http://www.foliosociety.com/book/HES/history-of-england-macaulay-limited
But if $1,396 is pricey, you can select your Macaulay from $2 up at Alibris.com.
Oh, and in looking for cheap books, I found this memoir:
http://tommywood.com/2003/11/reading-something-into-some-books-marboro-books-richard-farina-and-daniel-deronda.html
I read The Brothers Karamazov in university. When I went home for Thanksgiving weekend I forgot to pack my precious book and so purchased another at the bookstore in my hometown to keep up with the reading. I read the Zosima chapters over that weekend.
When I returned to school to resume the reading in my original book, I simply couldn't skip the chapters I had read in the other book because then, when I was done, I wouldn't be able to say I had read each word and each page in that physical book. So I read the Zosima chapters again for the sake of completeness before continuing on with the rest of the book.
My wife thinks I'm looney for it, but those chapters are still my favourite in all of literature. That second copy of The Brothers Karamazov, however, haunts me, as in that copy I've only read those chapters...
Hey, I think the name of that pub you mentioned is The Pig & Swizzle. That's a Rondebosch favorite. Googling "Pig and Whistle" yields a result in the Eastern Cape. It's not important, I just wanted to set the record straight on a haunt of mine while I was at UCT. Nowadays I get all my used books at Obz Books, down the road. Great article, on the whole!
Ebert: Definitely the Pig and Whistle. Gone, the last time I was in Cape Town. It was near the CNA, which may also be gone, and not far from the venue of the Rondebosch Chess Club, which was still going strong when I was last there.
Two South African readers on this thread so far.
Wasn't By Love Possessed published in 1957? You're thinking of the 1961 film, correct?
Ebert: That's it! I remember reading it late at night during high school, stirring restlessly with the desire to be by love possessed.
Does Chaz battle your books, when they inevitably creep out of your office, down the hall, and begin take over entire other rooms? Oh, and get with the program, and read the complete Tintin already!
Ebert: In French? Tonnerre de Brest!I have.
I am moved by your love for books, and I greatly enjoyed this entry ... but like young grad student Roger, I am content to have less rather than more. This entry tickles me because for my entire life I have found myself trying to find ways to keep a bare minimum (generally with the exception of my books!). In this last year, however, I have wanted to have as little as possible, to clear out the possessions, to cling to nothing but the essentials. (My husband - quite the opposite!) I suppose illness has driven me to that because I feel cluttered by STUFF. I suppose for others it might be the exact opposite - where illness leads to a desire to cling to as many things as possible. For me, however, I find enough comfort in the memories everlasting and feel it makes sense to let go of the objects. You say, yourself, that you would miss Chaz too much. That says it all. It is to those we most love that we are the most attached, not to those books (or other possessions), regardless of what fond memories those items might hold.
The science fiction writer Harlan Ellison once noted that, after taking an inventory of his library, he tallied more than 30,000 books. A friend of his asked him, "Have you READ all of those books?" Ellison replied,"Who wants a library full of books you've already read?" I think this pretty much captures the essence of bibliophilia...
Ebert: I was in his house once, with the circular staircase leading upward to more shelves.
http://site.xavier.edu/POLT/TYPEWRITERS/ellison.jpg
Those who do not have books cannot understand the need to have them and those of us who have books cannot understand how people can live without them.
I've always had books in my life and couldn't imagine not having them. Yes, I need the hardcover, paperback and reissued versions of Harpo Speaks, and my collection isn't complete without several copies of Act One.
My 15 year old son, who, thankfully, enjoys reading, commented the other day that one of his friends asked him from which public library branch he got his books, as he seemed to have a new and interesting book each week. My son smiled and told him he just walked downstairs in his house to his own personal library.
I'm glad to know I'm not alone. Growing up in, there was a book store in town that would sell quarter books right by my high school and I just couldn't pass it up. I would justify my buying of books by thinking that I was collecting art (even though I think I ended up buying some Dean Koontz books) and that if someone put in the effort to write a book, there had to be something of value in there. By 18, I had a book shelf of books that I had (and have) not gotten around to reading. I'm only 21 right now, but despite my best efforts the books on the book shelf continue to grow as I roam the used book stores of my new town. I'll set down and read them one day, but for now I'm content to look at the bookcase and think of the possibilities that await. Great blog.
I immediately thought of the Anthony Powell book when I saw the title of this post. I also believe books furnish a room. One of my favorite passages from Proust is when he wanders through a friend's library in Time Regained looking at books and remembering what was going on in his life when he first read them. The actual narrative in the books themselves become less important than the role they play in the narrative of M's life. I often feel that way looking through my shelves as well. There's "Island of the Day Before" read the first time I went to Cape Cod and "Dance to the Music of Time" from my trip to Prague and "Series of Unfortunate Events" read after 9/11 when reading seemed so pointless, etc, etc.
Goodness, first post, unproofed spellings and at all. I'm suddenly intrigued by the question of which movies a Roger Ebert considers worthy enough to keep in his house, ready for viewing whenever an itch strikes. DO you only save the movies you treasure? Do you naturally hoard all the screeners for schlock slasher films you'd never watch them on a dare? Do you "retire" a VHS movie once it comes out on DVD? No doubt you have many hundreds of LaserDiscs like me, but are there still some SelectaVision discs squirreled away (nope, I never had 'em)?
You don't mention a home theatre. You have mentioned not having the time for TV shows before, so I could imagine just a portable set in your office, because today's computer monitors no longer have the RCA inputs needed to play a VHS machine, where you review old films for your articles.
(I plugged my first computer, a Commodore 64, into a black & white RCA portable from the 70s that has now outlasted the signals it was designed to pick up. Then I got a color computer monitor which, in reverse, I watched TV on by feeding through my VCR.)
Unfortunately, having just moved into a new, smallish house with a 9-year old and a 19 month-old, all my many boxes of books will have to remain in storage for a few years until the youngest can curb her instincts to climb everything, pull every book off the shelf and see what sound the pages make when they tear off.
Oh, I'm probably not first post. There's probably a busload of comments awaiting approval before me already.
In the process of moving multiple times between 1994 and 2008, I unfortunately had to curtail my collection of books (and LP's). I still possess several of my first "real" books: a paperback of the Hobbit, a collection of poems, A Wrinkle in Time, a New Testament given me by a Sunday School teacher. I can still see in my mind's eye books I no longer possess, but fondly remember. Ball Four, Sandberg's Lincoln, Instant Replay (by Jerry Kramer), all of my Clifford Simak and Heinlein (what was I thinking?),among others. Among the sins of my ex-wife, giving away my Far Side and Calvin & Hobbes books, and VHS tapes regarding my beloved Houston Astros and the Astrodome.
I envy your collection, Roger. Enjoy & treasure them, and Chaz, even more so.
I find I prefer to give my books a second life. There's a wonderful Sober Club in St. Louis called the Lindell Club, where I can distribute my books among the other members, or simply leave them on the shelves.
Of course, the really good books, I keep.
I haven't read most of my books either, but their collective presence brings me joy. I love the colours of their spines, their various thicknesses, and their various title fonts, set next to one another on the black shelves.
If I look closer, I can marvel at their subject matter, and feel proud of myself for possessing them (and, at the very least, desiring to read them). I know there's some I'll never get to, especially in the Digital Age. However, if guests visit my home for the first time, and I step into the kitchen to fix us a drink, I'll come back to find them inspecting that shelf, to know me a little better. And they will know me.
There's only so much life, and if we're fortunate enough to live a long one, we'll still never read, watch or listen to every worthy thing. So perhaps an abundant bookshelf is our push-back against eternity? It's our way of saying that, while we may be mortal, we at least can envision an immortal version of ourselves. Not by knowing what that immortal self would know, but by knowing what that self would pursue, because time was not against it. We can appreciate, if not actually become, our Ideal Human.
Unfortunately, my relationship with books is not ideal.
Ebert: I see what you mean.
I just posted my "books" entry a couple days ago. I've often said that all a man needs is a cup of coffee, a Dylan album and some books. The only thing coloring my bare room is my bookshelf and dvd shelf. I often imagine my ideal set-up if I find success (ie, how my home would be set-up to accomodate my books and movies), and yours sounds very perfect.
Used book stores are like crack houses, and my room's littered with almost-read novels like empty syringes at a junkie's. I'm currently enwrapped in Faulkner's "As I Lay Dying."
As an Icelander who has yet to read the Sagas in their entirety I would appreciate it if you could let me know how they turn out.
Ebert:
Thorstein Egil's son received baptism when Christianity came to Iceland, and he had a church built at Borg. He was true to the faith, and a good man. He lived to be old, and died in his bed; he was buried at Borg by the church which he had built.
From Thorstein have come numerous descendants; many great men, many poets: they are of the stock of the Myra-men, as are all who sprang from Skallagrim. It long held good of that kin that the men were tall, and great warriors, some too were of prophetic sight. They were of two distinct types: for in that stock have been born the handsomest men in Iceland, such were Thorstein Egil's son, and Kjartan Olaf's son, sister's son of Thorstein, and Hall Gudmund's son, also Helga the fair, Thorstein's daughter (about whom Gunnlaug Worms-tongue and Skald-raven quarrelled). But the more part of the Myra-men were very ill-favoured.
Of the brothers, sons of Thorstein, Thorgeir was the strongest, Skuli was the tallest. He dwelt at Borg after the days of Thorstein his father. Skuli was long time out freebooting. He was forecastleman of earl Eric on the Iron Ram when king Olaf Tryggvason fell. Skuli was in seven battles, and was deemed a great warrior and a brave. He afterwards came out to Iceland, settled in the house at Borg, and dwelt there till old age; many have been his descendants. And so ends this story.
As an avid reader and a movie lover how do you feel about "the book was better" crowd? Do you attempt to compare the two when you see a movie based on a book? If so, do you find you typically like one better than the other or does it vary from case to case?
I have always assumed that, being a film critic, you preferred that medium. This blog is causing me to doubt.
Hi Roger,
It was delightful to read about your love affair with books, especially as so much of it is rooted in your time in South Africa. As I am also a South African (living in Joburg) - and studying English at Wits University - it was particularly amusing to read about your eating biltong and visiting the OK Bazaar.
I couldn't help but notice that you didn't make any mention of any South African books or authors that you have read. I'm sure there are many you've enjoyed? Also, if you're interested, there is a book called "Shirley, Goodness and Mercy" by author Chris van Wyk, which I found particularly endearing. It's a memoir about the aurthor's time spent growing up in the Coloured townships of Johannesburg. I'm certain you'd enjoy it, as almost all who have read it do.
Thanks,
Karl
Ebert: I had drinks in Grahamstown with Uys Krige, and dinner in Cape Town with Lady Joy Packer. I wrote my UCT thesis on the English literature of Southern Africa, from Olive Schreiner onward. Richard Rive, Roy Fuller, the great Nadine Gordimer...
I am much the same as you, Roger, with the exception of Kerouac's On The Road. It is the one book which I have owned perhaps six times over--- for every time I pick up a new copy, I read it, and then pass it on to someone who's never tasted its perfection. I don't want it back. I would never want to ask.
A lovely entry, Roger. I subscribe to your sentiments towards books and their necessity. I appreciate how you acknowledge that you have many, many books that you will never read yet nonetheless cannot discard. Why can't more people understand this concept, specifically my wife?! But I must ask if you’ve ever experienced an overwhelming feeling of saddened or even fear that you will never be able to read everything you want to? I know I cannot escape this feeling.
What you have here, Mr. Ebert, is a fine bit of testimony as to exactly why e-books may displace, but never replace, the real things--stained with chicken fat, soy sauce and other markers of a life lived as they may be.
Ebert: My books have survived experiences that would short out an electronic device. And they don't need batteries. And every precious stain tells its story. Even the occasional blood stain.
I collect books that I have not read too. I am currently making a list to order more from Amazon. When we moved into our house my husband and I never unpacked the books but I intend to, one of these days. The boxes are still in the basement. My office is almost straight but I haven't put any shelves up yet. His office is a wreck. He ordered three book cases from an office supply store. He built one. No books on it yet. He uncrated another. And still have one box untouched. Yeah, one of these days we will have book cases, and shelves, and they will be filled with books. And magazines, and cd's, and albums, and...
I'm a compulsive book collector. I often have to throw them out, because I have so many. I try to use the library as often as possible, and I don't feel enough people use it.
I read this and thought of one of my favorite lines from Frost: One could do worse than be a swinger of birches.
We all know that simpler is better. I just wish I understood the human condition enough to understand why simple isn't enough.
Roger,
You once mentioned a Sherlock Holmes novel that made you smile every 30 seconds or so during reading. May I ask which?
And why not adjoining rooms, one for Chaz? Your home should be a museum for the rest of us already...
Mitch
Whenever my husband or I comment that we have too many books, the other will invariably add "Ah, but books do furnish a room."
You’re probably familiar with that blank look you get when you're passionately describing a book to someone, and they just don't get it. Anthony Powell summed it up nicely in one of the war-time books in A Dance to the Music of Time—The Valley of Bones, perhaps, or The Soldier's Art:
"Literature illuminates life only for those to whom books are a necessity. Books are inconvertible assets to be passed on only to those who possess them already."
Ebert: Despairing of ever getting through that 12-volume work, I listened to the remarkable audiobook recordings by Simon Callow. They had the ability to lock Powell's character names into place as orbiting planets. There is some kind of ineffable genius in the name Kenneth Widmerpool. Now I am halfway through actually reading the handsome recent Folio edition.
I'm on it. I completely understand. I live in New York City and when I moved in with my wife, I had to get rid of some of my books simply to make room. My solution was to read or re-read every book and decide if they were worth reading again and if they weren't, they go to the thrift store. I have about 1,000 books. I figure I'll get through them all in fifty years or so.
Some of them I just can't bring myself to toss. I have a collection of Rilke's poems in German. It's a gorgeous book, about sixty years old. Beautiful condition. Can't read a word of German. Don't care. I'll phonetically sound it out. I have a fiftieth anniversary edition of The Hobbit. First printing. That, though, I've re-read about a hundred times.
Bookhounds are a rare breed. Either you get it or you don't. . .and if you don't, you're missing out. Or you do something ridiculous like buy a Kindle.
Ebert: I have nothing against Kindles. I just simply don't want one.
For those who feel the need to catalog their book collection, I suggest LibraryThing.com. Also a great site to browse old books and new. I'd love to see Roger Ebert's collection go up there.
"What do I really need that isn't here in this room?"
How about women?
Ebert: They came and departed, and offered venues of their own.
Hello Roger,
I understand exactly what you mean. On top of that, I don't know if you do that, but I usually keep the front row of my shelves for my favorite books (usually the ones all thorn from having carried it everywhere). Just so I can look at them. And since I usually buy my books from used bookstores, the smell of them is something quite unique. Just flipping through the pages gives you the scent of something eternal. And I never leave the house without a book. People sometimes laught at that habit, but who's laughing when they have to get on a 8 hours plane ride with nothing to read ? Even for a two minutes subway ride, I still need my book. I can't understand why anyone would want to stare ahead at the back of the seat in front or talk on their cellphone all the way through (even though they've been on the phone all day at work). I'm a book junkie and not afraid to come clean.
Keep it up Roger, those blogs are a great joy for me.
Yes, I would never throw away a book. It's one of my Jewish traits, respect for books.
This is the kind of post that I prefer. Most of your correspondents will probably be sane.
You would definitely have to lock the door and walk away because you can't move. I speak from experience. Movers have advised me that I should throw away my books instead of paying them to transport them to my new house because I could buy them new for less than the cost of moving. To hell with that.
You remind me of similar day in my life. Years ago at college I had a weekend that I consider the most pleasant solitary moment of my life. It was Easter Break but I had not gone home. I had the campus nearly to myself. I stopped a local store and got some cute bunny-shaped cupcakes and some cleaning supplies, nothing special. On the way home I stopped and picked a few jazz CDs and took them home. It was one of those rare moments where you stop and reflect and think that you are happy. I am not one to enjoy cleaning, but just being alone in the apartment, cleaning, and listening to good music, with some good food was enough. I was content. Of course, life dropped an anvil on my head shortly after that weekend, but I still remember it fondly.
A few months ago I was going through some old boxes and found the receipts from those small purchases, thanks to the fact that I never throw anything away. I was thrilled. It was an unintended time capsule.
As an aside, I have always wondered why you chose South Africa, given your politics. I understand that opposition to apartheid did not become fashionable until the '80s, and was probably not that much different than the environment in which you were raised, but why did you chose that location to study?
Great entry. I used to consider having this desire for amassing books a "problem". I read often but can never keep up to the pace of buying a new book in stores and ordering a few used online in a week. It's like my 'books to read' pile is increasing exponentially. But I'm glad I'm not the only one who devotes much of his practical space to bookshelves.
It does make moving apartments a hassle, though....
As I pack up my books for storage (more on the reason behind that, in two weeks, on my blog, for those who follow it among the readers here), I discover that I have the same problem as you. I have managed to get rid of a few books that I didn't like when younger, or books that my nieces may enjoy, or books that I know I will not miss, but these books are a small fraction of the many books that I own, most of which I cannot part with. I even shipped, to my house, all of the used books I bought in Japan when I left that country last year, despite the fact that buying newer versions of those books may have cost me less money.
Your blog post also reminds me of a quote by Charles Eliot, who writes in The Happy Life, "Books are the quietest and most constant of friends."
(The full quote is, "Books are the quietest and most constant of friends; they are the most accessible and wisest of counsellors, and the most patient of teachers.")
I grew up in an apartment filled by books. There are at least twice as many bookshelves as any other piece of furniture. There are books everywhere, in the hallways, in the living room, in both my parents' offices, in my room, my sister's, my parents'. Even the kitchen has a few cooking books chucked on top of the fridge or hidden in a drawer or stuck between two pots. I remember once asking my dad if he'd read everything we had, although I don't remember his answer. Plans to redo my room were made and abandoned at least twice, because where would we put the bookshelves in the meantime?
As a kid, I would go to my friends' and be astounded by the lack of books. No bookshelves on every wall? No books lying on the living room table? There were books everywhere in my elementary school classroom. There were books everywhere back at home. How could you live without books? That made no sense to me. At the time, I didn't realize how lucky I was. There are a frightening number of kids who "don't like to read." Thanks to my parents, my sister and I were never in any danger on that front.
When I left Paris to go study abroad for a year in Chicago, I obviously had to take books with me. Every kind of book, from Alan Moore's Watchmen to Jon Stewart's America, from Neil Gaiman's American Gods to Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian. You never know what you'll need or want to re-read. That was only a tiny fraction of my personal library, a dozen books, perhaps a little more. Of course, I ended up not needing most of them. Then I bought more books there, some for my English courses, some not. While working at the library, I would take a break from reading Robinson Crusoe to read The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao ("you're always reading something!" a friend of mine once said). When it came time to go back to Paris, I could barely close my suitcases. But leave books behind? Never.
As a kid, I had the same problem whenever there would be a garage sale in the neighborhood. My sister and I would be instructed to go through our things and figure out what we wanted to sell. I'd start with a large pile of books, then I'd go through it and divide it into two (theoretically) smaller piles: on the left, books I wanted to keep; on the right, books I felt okay parting with. The pile on the right never contained more than half a dozen books. Then my sister would go through it, and decide to keep half of those for herself. Parting with toys was easy. Parting with books was torture.
I loved books and read like crazy, even before I started 1st grade.
From listening to my parents old records, I loved the historical songs of Johnny Horton, especially "The Battle of New Orleans" (I grew up in Metairie, just down the road from the city of New Orleans) and "Sink the Bismarck". While wandering the school library as a first grader, I came across William L. Shirer's 'The Sinking of the Bismarck'. The sister who ran the library would not let me check it out, as it was too advanced for a 1st grader like me. I had to open the book and read some to her, to show that I could handle it. It was my first obsession with a book, and 35 years later I still have 3 copies.
It is difficult to explain my obsession to my wife, who is slowly coming to love reading, but nowhere as obsessed as I am. To placate her financial complaints about the number of books I bought, I have learned to read off my cell phone. It is a satisfactory, but not full-fulling solution. The words and stories are still there, but the comfort is not.
Great blog topic! I know your feeling about owning books you may never read, but know you should and someday might. I also have Churchill's History of the Second World War, and have added to it Blood, Sweat, and Tears, a collection of his pre-war speeches released in 1940 I think. (My favorite is when he responds to Mussolini's boast that he could sail up the English Channel and take Britain by invitating Il Duce to go ahead and try, Churchill would even move his ships aside to give him safe passage to the fight.)
I also have about 70 Library of America volumes, the best printing business in the business. If you have not joined them Sir I do suggest it. I read The Postman Always Rings Twice last night and felt like drifting west...
The most important thing I own is a copy of Graham's Ladies and Gentleman's Magazine, May of 1842 I believe. First printing of Poe's Mask Of The Red Death, he would only latere change it to Masque. My favorite story of his because it's last paragraph is the most convincing portrayal of finality in all of literature. Try and beat it.
Books are curious things, I was thinking that last week as my cat watched me read. To him I was staring at a small object for hours, and in truth it was only page after page of ink shapes that in and of themselves hold no entertainment value. That we as a species have mastered the concept of transferring thought into something so simple and compact is surely one of our grandest accomplishments.
Anywho, keep reading and so shall I. I am slightly A.D.D. I suppose, so reading takes me so damn long. But it is always worth it.
Ebert:
And now was acknowledged the presence of the Red Death. He had come like a thief in the night. And one by one dropped the revellers in the blood-bedewed halls of their revel, and died each in the despairing posture of his fall. And the life of the ebony clock went out with that of the last of the gay. And the flames of the tripods expired. And Darkness and Decay and the Red Death held illimitable dominion over all.
I've got, roughly speaking, two book collections: big and small. The big collection is whatever I think I'm going to hang onto, and the small collection consists of a few books that I simply end up going back to no matter what else changes. The former is things like Walter Winchell's biography. The latter is things like Barrows Dunham's "Man Against Myth" and good ol' Strunk & White (4th Ed.)
Many of the latter end up filed in a shelf immediately to the left of where I'm typing this. Every now and then when I'm stuck for a phrase I reach out, grab a book (any book), open to a page (any page), and see what happens.
I don't think a Kindle would survive 30 seconds in my hands. I'm the fellow who dropped his phone on the driveway, face-down, and then stepped on it and watched it skate into the street.
A cherished book becomes part of my soul.
A sickly child, I escaped the confines of my weak body with the intoxicating words I inhaled and absorbed from books of all subjects - fact and fiction. Hardy Boy mysteries and National Geographics, Ian Fleming, Ayn Rand, Shakespeare, Bradbury and Asimov. John W. Campbell, Honore W. Morrow, Robert Heinlein and Joseph Campbell. Psychology, philosophy, and fantasy. I borrowed medical journals from my doctor, textbooks from my teachers,and travel guides from the travel agency down the road.
Growing up one of my favorite places we lived at was a tiny apartment above an antique shop on Main Street in Patchogue, Long Island, NY. The public library was just around the corner, and Joe, our landlord and the Antique shops owner, would let my borrow the dusty old volumes that no one but me seem to be interested in.
We moved around a bit as I grew up, never a easy time for a child, but the most traumatic part of it, for me, was all the books I was forced to part with....I still think back from time to time about this great book and that great book... lost somewhere along the way..if I had a time machine I think my first adventure would be to go back to every curb side and friends house I had to leave my cherished volumes to rescue them and bring them back with me!
Hello Roger,
I was with you all the way except for the water biscuits. I can only imagine a chef somewhere, sometime, winning a bet by baking a cracker that tastes exactly like nothing.
Did you ever take any photos inside that Cape Town dorm? I recognize your state of mind -- "What do I really need that isn't here in this room?" -- from a time long ago when I felt myself on the cusp of clearing out the dross and actually living that way. And then... kids. Boom. I'll see your Shaw and raise you a complete Poe that's just as careworn, except it's in a box in the garage now.
Just tell me that somewhere in your office, amid the chaos, you've got your 20 volumes of Patrick O'Brian in a neat little row. I think of the whole thing as one big book anyhow. And that has resisted eviction from the living room.
But seriously, about the Carr's. You know they came into being because they wouldn't rot on long sea voyages, or in near-forgotten army barrels? You were punishing yourself and didn't even know it.
Thanks for evoking that rainy-day feeling on just such a morning.
Ebert: Not bad with jam.
This lovely blog post prompted me to go to the bookshelf and pull down the first book I that read all by myself. It was Ardra Soule Wavle's Rain and Shine. I was three and a half. Then, I went over to the coffee table and picked up my latest book The Greatest Show on Earth by Richard Dawkins. My mother was so proud of me when I read the first one; as religious as she was, she would be so disappointed to learn that I was reading the present one.
I bought a Kindle recently. It has its place. The best thing about it is if I see some author being interviewed on TV, and I decide I want to start reading his/her book RIGHT now, I can press a few buttons and BAM! I'm reading the book. So, in that aspect, it is convenient, much like the internet is a more conveneient way to search and find information, rather than, say, going to a library.
But books are so much more than just the words within. I'm certain that digital readers will someday replace books altogether, but that will just make our stacks and stacks of books all the more precious.
One thing that separates a bibliophile from a person who buys books is that each work is an extension of his/her personality. It doesn't matter that I haven't *finished* Wolfhardt Pannenberg's theological works; it's the fact that he is a hero. The fact that he is in my collection says something about me as an individual that cannot be expressed on any other level; as do my Czech-English dictionary, my 100-year-old book on sign language, a history of the community of Agness, Oregon; and, yes, a Chinese cookbook as well. It's not because the books are mine; it's because the books are *me*, that I can never part with a single bit of my book-horde.
And besides, they look classier than bumper-stickers, when guests come over.
Everyone in my family tells me to get rid of my books but I can not. All the careers and hobbies I've had and given up are represented. Electrical Engineering, Mechanical Engineering, Physics, Mathematics, 100's of Bible commentaries in English, German, Hebrew and Greek. At least 30 Bibles in Greek, Hebrew, various translations in English.
I have a nearly complete set of Tolkien (some heavily worn) including the expensive Shaping of Middle Earth Series. (I've gotten through most of it, but it's tedious even for the most dedicated.) I've never been into Classic Literature but I have lots of it just in case I change my mind. (Only in English or translated into English.)
Several rooms in my apartment are difficult to navigate with the stacks.
I have read or skimmed most of my collection (including my abridged Oxford Dictionary) but I still consider myself basically ignorant. The world is too big and life is too short.
Ebert: Everyone is basically ignorant. Some people are unnecessarily ignorant.
At least with movies, they have that more accessible "re-discovery" factor.
Someone needs to re-read Melville...
Ebert: Of course Moby Dick is a masterpiece, but Typhee is un-put-downable.
As a long time Ebertfest attendee, this blog post seems to possibly explain a key reason for your selection of the fantastic "The Stone Reader" early on in the festival's existence. That film continues to randomly pop up in my thoughts all these years later!
I blew all of my scholarship money sophomore year of college at Ole Miss on books, forcing me to eat oatmeal and one dollar Totino's frozen cheese pizzas that i'd buy in bulk for every meal. I ran out of shelf space immediately, stacking them in teetering columns all across my floor. The house was more than a hundred years old, shifty as hell, so every time someone slammed a door a stack of my books would topple. I didn't have a girlfriend (big surprise), so i always slept with a pile of hardbacks next to me in bed. Oxford, MS is a wonderful town for books, mostly because half the people you see walking around the square have written at least one, and chances are it's good. Terrific bookstore there, too. You should check it out sometime.
Nice to meet a kindred spirit. Carr's water biscuits are of course excellent with cheese. I still have my Hamlyn Shakespeare, I have more Simenon than you, and now that I am retired I can catch up with all the books I have meant to read, including the Powell series (thanks for the tip about the audiobooks , by the way).
I love your film criticism, and I think you are a very lucky man!
Oh, could I ever relate to this. My dining room currently has seven shopping bags and two boxes full of books - it'd be more, but I'm just housesitting and have to keep the rest of my books in storage elsewhere.
I'll buy them if they've been recommended, or if I've heard good things. I'll buy them if the back cover's interesting, or if the front cover's interesting, or if the flap copy is interesting. I'll buy them if I liked the paperback and want a hardcover, or if I liked the first edition and want the second (now with a new afterword!).
Sometimes I'll try and weed through them; I usually wind up keeping them all because they look too interesting to get rid of. Nine times out of nine, they are.
My favorite bookstore is the Lobster Lane Book Shop in Spruce Head, Maine. There are a hundred thousand books there, most of which sell for two-fifty or less. They have next to no web presence, and they're only open weekend afternoons in the summer. Nevertheless, they're a hugely popular destination in the region. I made the ninety minute drive three times this past summer and can't wait to do more next year.
Having all these great words around me, waiting only for me to pick them up, melds a sense of security with a sense of discovery like nothing else. I can say with total confidence that my life would be less rich if I hadn't found Don't Point That Thing At Me by Kyril Bonfiglioli at a ten-cents-a-pound booksale in Ellsworth, and whenever I hear of others who've made similar discoveries in similar fashion, I smile and think, Yes, they get it. They understand.
All to say, thanks for your expression of the gentle madness of bibliophilia.
Why am I not surprised that Harlan Ellison shares his office with The Cheshire Cat?
Any thoughts on books inscribed by the author, or those with doodled inscriptions by the illustrator? Oddly, I've never been one to write in my own books, but there's something I enjoy about having a book with a signature or words handwritten by their author, and so whenever possible I've gone to readings and signings in hopes of having a favorite book inscribed.
Tell us something about Roman Polanski.
Dorothy Parker, on the value of books in giving life to the lonely:
Song of One of the Girls
Here in my heart I am Helen;
I'm Aspasia and Hero, at least.
I'm Judith, and Jael, and Madame de Stael;
I'm Salome, moon of the East.
Here in my soul I am Sappho;
Lady Hamilton am I, as well.
In me Recamier vies with Kitty O'Shea,
With Dido, and Eve, and poor Nell.
I'm of the glamorous ladies
At whose beckoning history shook.
But you are a man, and see only my pan,
So I stay at home with a book.
Thanks for the post! There's only one place in Portland, Maine (Shaw's on outer Washington) that I am aware of that actually stocks Hob Nobs, and the chocolate are my favorite!
Ebert: I have nothing against Kindles. I just simply don't want one.
I kind of do want one. The idea of having a small library with you without having to carry a small library with you is quite appealing. But until they figure out a way I can write down notes in the margin, I'm not sure how much use I'd get out of it.
And not to bring the conversation down, but I came across some stats about books the other day I found rather surprising. Some highlights/lowlights;
- 1/3 of high school graduates never read another book for the rest of their lives.
- 42 percent of college graduates never read another book after college.
- 80 percent of U.S. families did not buy or read a book last year.
- Each day in the U.S., people spend 4 hours watching TV, 3 hours listening to the radio and 14 minutes reading magazines.
http://www.humorwriters.org/startlingstats.html
Hi Roger, there was a "Movie Book" meme moving around the film blogs a couple months ago that I don't know if you saw. Bloggers were encouraged to write a post about the top 10 movie books that had encouraged them to get into writing about film. Your Video Companion series made it onto many lists, including my own.
The guy who started the meme eventually collected all the lists and made a master list here: http://thedancingimage.blogspot.com/2009/07/movie-bookshelf.html
P.S. I have re-read Moby Dick.
I love reading fiction, and in particular I love reading great science fiction that has absolutely nothing at all to do with my bus commute to and from work, or my life at either end of it.
Every so often I make it a point to patronize the local library, as you are simply not permitted to keep those books lying around your house. And they don't cost me a nickel.
And then I get to a point where I've pretty much read all the books I want to read at my little library branch, and have to wait for the library to catch up with its collection.
But I also reach a point where I need to own my books again, even if I shelve or box them away when I'm done and never revisit them. Because there is something indefinably more comforting about curling up with a book that is your own.
Though I can't say that I actually "curl up" with a book on the bus, as I think it would look pretty creepy.
I love libraries, I do. Maybe it's just the thought that the person who borrowed the book before me read it in the bathroom.
(When I was a 19 year old backpacker in sauntering through Greece, a million years ago, I wrote in my journal that all I needed were the things in my bag, a good book, my frisbee, food to fill my belly and drink to wet my mouth. That same backpack is now buried somewhere in my crawlspace behind enough things to fill a second house.)
This is my favorite entry of yours yet. My books overflowed their shelves and any flat surfaces in my house some years ago and yet I continue to acquire more. Let me tell you what is simultaneously a great thing and a terrible thing for a bibliophile to do: work at a book store. Great if you have unlimited space and no need to buy anything else, terrible in all other ways.
And you're a man who appreciates Colette. My goodness. Didn't think I needed another reason to adore you from afar, but there it is.
Ebert: Any lover of fiction who doesn't love Colette isn't up to speed.
I've recently came back from a two-year stay in Freiburg, Germany, working on my Philosophy Thesis. I did bring with me all the music I could in my computer, but I didn't have Internet access at home for most of the time, and only there did I bought my first cell phone, my only connection to the outside world, except for the windows, maybe. Until then, I just thought to myself, there are no philosophical emergencies, and if there were, I doubt I'd be among the first to be called. No more than half a dozen books came along for the journey, and only one of then would be useful somehow – the other ones were old companions I'd read many times over, a small sample of Brazilian and Portuguese Literature: Fernando Pessoa, Machado de Assis, Guimarães Rosa. It would have been unfair to not let then see the Black Forest for themselves.
They grew in number over time, not enough to keep me satisfied or to take up the small studio apartment I occupied near the library, where, on occasion and with careful planing, was possible to cook for fifteen or more people. They were there, signaling how much time had passed, and fortunately not how little time there was left. The books eventually made their way back, so did I, and here I can actually afford more books than before, and generally a more confortable life, but I do miss being a foreigner, having a limited budget and getting away with doing so much with it, walking no more than a few blocks from home to feel like you've travelled or following the Danube from the Black Forest to Vienna, Bratislava, Budapest and further away, so to visit friends.
http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2009/3/9/
(I'm sorry it's a webcomic about videogames, of all things, but it is at least appropriate, if not funny.)
Ah, this so much better than the "festering fringe".
I get rid of stuff, including books, constantly. I read about 3 books a month but make sure never to have more than 30 in the house at once. I simply prefer it to holding on to stuff.
I can relate to your thoughts on being near rain, however. What I miss most about cigarette smoking is not having one with coffee or a cocktail, but under an awning in a rainshower, preferably in a new city or a different part of town.
I have several video games and movies, and an increasing number of books, and I can pretty well remember where I bought them. Most of them are used, and my latest ditty was The Complete Sherlock Holmes from Doubleday, bought for $8 from an antiques store in Pinetops, N.C.
And I *completely* sympathize with not being able to let many of them go, or of finding them on shelves, on top of stuff or (like me) having them in the floor. Kindred spirits, all of us.
As was said earlier about a bibliophile not passing up a book store, or (morbidly) about an alcoholic unable to pass up a bar, to that I say, being a a self-professed "pawn shop rat," I find it very difficult to pass up a pawn shop. That's where I've gotten most of my video games and movies over the years.
Love the quote earlier from Harlan Ellison: "Who wants a library full of books you've already read?"
You are an inspiration. I am a current English student, living in my small apartment in Florida, constantly receiving abuse for my abundance of books. Most I have read, many I have not, some I might never get to. You have reaffirmed my lifestyle. Also, you are the only other person that I know of who owns an OED -- I too have my "compact" book with a wonderful magnifying glass that I bought for $200 from a nice old man in a used bookstore. Even my professors (wonderful though they are) try to convince me of the ease of using the dictionary online, through a subscription from the school. I, however, remain loyal to my 2004 copy that sits on my bar, magnifier resting on the cover. One of my treasured possessions. We are brothers in dictionary!
Ebert: When you use the magnifying glass to look up a word in the OED, by God, you've looked up a word.U
Amazon: The making of the "Oxford English Dictionary" was a monumental 50 year task requiring thousands of volunteers. One of the keenest volunteers was a W C Minor who astonished everyone by refusing to come to Oxford to receive his congratulations. In the end, James Murray, the "OED's" editor, went to Crowthorne in Berkshire to meet him. What he found was incredible - Minor was a millionaire American civil war surgeon turned lunatic, imprisoned in Broadmoor Asylum for murder and yet who dedicated his entire cell-bound life to work on the English language.
http://www.amazon.com/Surgeon-Crowthorne-Madness-English-Dictionary/dp/0140271287/ref=ntt_at_ep_dpi_11
I was struck wit the Bibliophilia bug at a young age, always reading on my bed instead of playing sports like the other kids. By the time I finished grad school, my book collection was getting out-of-hand. Like many here, I cannot pass a used book store without going in and browsing. This often means I'm buying something. During my poorer days, I've had to choose between books and food. I often chose to feed my mind. Coupled with my bibliophilia is a similar impulse towards music of all forms, particularly jazz. Once you've caught the jazz bug, you're quick to discover its particular form of virulance. Unlike books where it is straight forward (I wanna read everything by this author), jazz is a complicated web (I wanna hear every note by this performer) of interconnection between players and sessions. It never ends. I'll never read, never see (because I have a mania for great films as well), never hear, never experience all there is to read, see, hear, and experience. It's not sad. It's wonderful. I wish such curiosity could be strong in everyone.
@ roger-
Which actor(The Show Off) did she(Ruth Gordon) love?...
Reply:Gregory Kelly... they met while co starring in Tarkington's hit Broadway play, Seventeen in 1918.
You would have recognized Kelly's character, Willie Baxter. (From Wikipedia) Reviewers have suggested that Willy Baxter is an older version of Penrod. Seventeen and Penrod are similar in structure...some character, situations, episodes from Penrod are recycled in Seventeen.
Booth Tarkington must have been quite a fine fellow. In a Memoir, a nephew, speaking for the family at the time of his death, "this is the first day I remember when I didn't think after I woke up-I wonder whether I'll get to see Uncle Booth today."
The Hardy Boys were my Penrod and Sam.
My brother is leaving in a couple of days to spend a week in Paris. I sent him a link to the documentary about Shakespeare & Co. I'm sure you realize that bibliophilia is a genetic affliction. BTW, my husband and I had a friend who walked into our house one time and said "It looks like a mad librarian lives here"
My name is Lee, and I'm a bookaholic, too. If I had to renounce all of my possessions, the books would be the last to go. I don't have as many as you, Roger; 30 years as a librarian taught me how to set aside lightly the books that ought to be hurled with great force. Lately, however, I've been spending more and more time in book shops (and thrift shops) and acquiring more and more books. Fortunately my wife, who is also a retired librarian, is tolerant and forgiving, and she seems to have been spared the gene for collecting, so I'm the only one with a hobby that threatens to overrun the house. Like you and Harlan Ellison, I own many books that I haven't read and probably never will read, although I try to avoid buying books that I'd refuse to read on principle. I can think of only one exception, the first edition of Atlas Shrugged that I found at the Goodwill outlet in Spanaway, Washington. Bad thinking and bad prose do indeed go hand in hand.
I organize my bookshelves based on which writers I can imagine having the most interesting conversations. I keep Freud away from the feminists, so they won't fight with each other (books are peaceful by nature), and I put Margaret Atwood with Tolkien and Vonnegut, because I think they have similar perspectives on different periods and places in history. I think I have read most of my books, but I gaze with longing on those I have yet to read every time I spend a few minutes idling in front of a shelf. Someday, I tell myself. Someday.
Luckily my husband and I are both bibliophiles and movie fiends. It makes things very easy.
Although it has meant we have about as many shelves devoted to books as to movies. And, it means we have to call dibs on who will read a new book when it's released. Books are also one of the few things that I've never had problems with buying, I sort of took the Erasmus quote by heart when I heard it as a child.
Another quote that I love about books comes from Buffy the Vampire Slayer (show not movie).
Jenny Calendar: Honestly, what is it about them [computers] that bothers you so much?
Giles: The smell.
Jenny Calendar: Computers don't smell, Rupert.
Giles: I know. Smell is the most powerful trigger to the memory there is. A certain flower, or a-a whiff of smoke can bring up experiences long forgotten. Books smell musty and-and-and rich. The knowledge gained from a computer is a - it, uh, it has no-no texture, no-no context. It's-it's there and then it's gone. If it's to last, then-then the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um, smelly.
Books are one of the most important cultural objects we have. It binds the ethereal to a physical thing, which frankly is a bit magical.
The disdain expressed by technophiles for books is depressing. Apparently they are "old media". The internet is a great way to skim a subject and learn about writers and ideas you wouldnt have come across otherwise but if you want in depth knowledge of a subject you HAVE to read a lot of books on it.
The idea that all the information in the world is available online is a joke too. Take any semi-obscure writer or artist, start a webpage on him and it will immediately be the premier source of informaiton on that subject online even if it is poorly written.
Whenever I spend hours online I feel like I've had 3 big macs, after reading a good book I feel like I've run a marathon
Roger,
This beautiful entry will cause any good English major to tear up a bit. We all know how you feel. :)
My father has a beautiful, red leather bound copy of Tolkien's Lord of the Rings that I cherish above all else. When I was eight years old he sat me down on the couch and read a chapter from the book more or less each week until we had finished the whole thing. Of course I remember the wonderful prose and the excellent story, but above all I remember the smell of the book. Now, when I tell others about how much I love the smell of a good old book, they look at me as if I've got two heads. But I'm sure that you, and the others who have commented here can relate to my love of that wonderful old smell. The smell of libraries, of learning, of quiet afternoons flipping through worn out pages, oblivious to passing time and the world around you. Y'know, I doubt I would have ever developed the passion that I have for film, music, literature, art, etc. or even became an English major if my father had never sat me down with that beautiful copy of Lord of the Rings when I was eight...
This is me. I have about 500 books right now, but I've only read about half of them and I can't enter a bookstore without buying something. In addition to this I have about 500 CDs and several hundred VHS/DVDs and also a great many video games. Considering the small room I live in this is basically untenable. People assume that I must be fairly wealthy (by broke college student standards) to have so many things - but this is untrue. Rather, I have so much because I never throw anything away. I simply can't - I have sentimental attachments to all these things, and I treasure the opportunity to loan them to people. I love when I get to say, "Oh, you haven't read that? Here!" or "You've never seen Rashoman? You should come over and watch it." and so forth. And I am totally unattracted to digital media. e-books, mp3s, streaming films on my computer from Netflix, these things are convenient in a sense but something very pleasurable is missing from them. I'm not sure what it is exactly - I suppose it is just the absence of anything tactile that annoys me. Occasionally I get criticized by friends and so forth for having so much stuff - usually in a moralizing tone and often featuring the word "Materialist" or some equivalent. I don't know - maybe I am - but I love these things, holding them, feeling their texture, smelling them (books smell so good - both new and old ones) - so I say what's wrong with surrounding yourself with the things you love?
The happiest, sometimes most perilous, thing one can do with a beloved book is lend it out. I have a lost library in my head, books I couldn't resist sharing, and which are now gone. Then again: A few years ago I reunited with someone I hadn't seen in more than 20 years, and he returned a book I had lent him, a history of comics. And my long-gone copy of Tom Kromer's "Waiting for Nothing" was mourned enough to a past department head that she bought me a new copy.
And now my son is reading them. He's reading the copy of "A Clockwork Orange" I bought in the '70s--it advertises Kubrick's film version on the cover; and I noticed my woodcut-illustrated "Jane Eyre"--which my mother had bought at a church sale, with a companion copy of "Wuthering Heights"--on the stack with his school books--not to mention my rows of SF book club titles, picked over still--John Brunner, Ellison, Andre Norton, Sturgeon, still alive and kicking in new hands.
But there aren't enough books to own, and too many more to still lend out.
I'm fortunate enough to live in the same state as Elliott Bay Book Company, which is a smallish independent bookstore on the fringes of Pioneer Square in Seattle. This store could have inspired the line in Disney's Beauty and the Beast where Lumiere mentions "swamps" and "cascades" of books. The Book Company occupies about three floors of an old musty building, and it's a labyrinth of staircases, shelves, corners, and books, books, books...
Every so often I go there and try to find some small volume that would fit inside a college student's budget. Once I found a little treatise on Vermeer. They have a scholarly edition of the Rubáiyát of Omar Khayyám, the collected works of T.S. Eliot (plus his uncollected works), and a lot of other things that nobody my age cares about any more. They have every genre under the sun, from astrology to novels to zoology. Every time I go I find a new corner I didn't know about.
If I had my way, my personal library would be something like that store.
What timing. I'm trying to reduce my own library in preparation for a move, and the best cook I've ever known has called me and says she wants all her cookbooks back. It'll be strange having Thompson's On Growth and Form, a dogeared paperback Epic of Gilgamesh, Sakurai's Modern Quantum Mechanics (battered but still handsome), Fuse's Modular Origami, Gilpatric's Mr. Glencannon Ignores the War -- which, though disitegrating, somehow balances well against Masters' Bugles and a Tiger and The Road Past Mandalay -- a Dore-illustrated Inferno and the collected short stories of Greg Bear all within reach of my bed without McGee's On Food and Cooking. Still, I suppose it will save some confusion -- one of my biologist friends was quite surprised to learn that Peterson's Fish and Shellfish was a cookbook. And it's a hundred or so fewer books to lug to my new place. And I use that enormous tome, Chocolate, once a year, tops. *sigh*
Selling, giving back, giving away, throwing away, moving, it's quite a chore. But one finds interesting things. I've set aside Pagoo as a Christmas gift for some little girls who may like it, and I've lent out most of my Oliver Sacks. I just hope that I'll find one or more lost treasures, like Animal Storeys, or Herodotus' Histories with all the stuff I tucked into it, or my journal from Japan with the sketches from the Budokan...
I have a pet theory that you can determine if you are at heart a liberal or a conservative by reading one book. The book is "Catcher in the Rye" by JD Salinger. If, after reading this book you think Holden Caulfield is a spoiled brat who needs an attitude adjustment, you are at core a conservative. If you read this book and think Holden is a poor misunderstood waif and you feel sorry for him, then you are a liberal at heart. I considered myself a liberal when I first read the book as a teenager and I still thought he was a punk. Now that I am an older, wiser, conservative with libertarian tendencies (or is that a libertarian with conservative tendencies?) I can see that I was conservative then, even if I didn't know it.
Know what's really great? When you're in a good used bookstore (one with more than dog-eared paberback romance novels), and you find a veryn old book on a subject you're interested in...and it is bound in leather and feels great!
Have you ever seen McMurtry's collection, that he's selling in Archer City (Last Picture Show site)? It takes up five storefronts.
In addition to the used books which stack neatly up to my waist along the floor of the west wall of my bedroom, I am quickly acquiring a nice, disorganized pile of printed computer copier paper, courtesy of Project Gutenberg. So far, I gotten through The Death of Ivan Ilych, a couple of Schnitzler and Floyd Dell one-acts, re-read Notes From the Underground and Tartuffe and, as soon as I finish Lord Edgeware Dies for my book club, I'm starting in on Chekhov's The Black Monk. Each of these is in it's own special binder. I worry that, in a few years, my room may resemble John Doe's study in Se7en.
So, I'm doing a bit of math here.
The time you could be using to read all those books, you're using to read our comments and blogs.
Wait. Did I just describe you or me (or a few hundred other readers here).
Ebert: Ssssh!
Books are a joy to me and have been all my life. My shelves are filled to overflowing and every flat surface in my apartment is stacked with them.
I'm a Joycean and own several editions of Ulysses, including one I picked up for 20 bucks at an estate sale. It's a first edition, 1928, from Shakespeare and Co. Paris. My books about Ulysses and Joyce in general take up an entire bookcase.
As an opera fan and professionally-trained but amateur baritone, I have shelf containing stacks of the Ricordi and Schirmer librettos of operas I've sung in, interspersed with opera biographies and books about singing.
Between the Joyce and opera are thousands of other books, hard and paperback, filling my life. I never throw any of them away but I do have several on permanent loan to friends.
Few of my childhood friends shared my passion for reading, but thankfully I now have old pals with whom that love endures.
As I began the process of moving down here last year, boxes and boxes of books made the first trips. There is a rather moist smelling one in my car now from the basement of the old house. Two or three boxes still remain there. Odds and ends from library sales.
This house did not lack for books before I arrived. When my sister asked if I wanted to join her book club, I simply said that Dennis and I have a two member club already. Not quite true, but true enough. Not a collection, but an accumulation. Lots of trade paperbacks that will passed on as duplicates or not keepers.
Many good quality paperbacks from QPB. A fair number of hardbacks but not collector quality ones. There is a small Crime and Punishment volume that has been glaring at me a while. Its time is coming. I swear. Finally read War and Peace this spring.
Box arrived today from friendly online bookseller. Where the Wild Things Are - used the library copy when daughter was young or else she has it. Dead Witch Walking recommended by my much younger doctor brother in Tennessee. Two military books - The Sandbox and Welcome to Afghanistan: Send More Ammo.
I love libraries. I never quite kept current with publications. By the time I read Vonnegut's Jailbird it was a few years old. Prompted me to write to him. He wrote back!! This was 1982. As I was winding down my employment at NKU in the law library I took advantage of our resident archivist and she encapsulated the original for me. Typed on a manual typewriter with hot pink felt tip pen used for signature.
My Shakespeare is battered, loaned to several students over the years. Many of them studied with the same professor I had enjoyed and made good use of my marginal notes such as they were. I told them that non-majors shouldn't be expected to haul around a twenty pound volume forever. Students there could take a Shakespeare course for general education credit, also upper level. A twofer.
Inspired to visit Amazon to price check a mini version of the OED (to keep my Webster's 3rd Unabridged International company) when I came upon the review by "person." You must scroll down to his 1-star review here:
Spent the next ten minutes reading his reviews that begin here:
Even more hilarious are the comments by other users to his review of Finding Nemo. I was in the midst of reading the Brokeback Mountain review when I realized I had to pass this on to you and your readers.
Ebert: That reviewer is a comic genius!
Samsung PN50A450 50-Inch 720p Plasma HDTV
2.0 out of 5 stars DANGER!!!, March 14, 2009
I am not entirely satisfied with this product. The instructions are unclear (probably because they are written by the Japanese). It took me ages just to figure out how to operate it. Finally, I figured out that the plug needed to be inserted into the electrical outlet. It didn't say that anywhere in the directions!
When I turned it on, i discovered that it only gets one channel. Every time I plug it in, I simply get a loud "FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF" sound and a bunch of black and white stuff that moves quickly around the screen. My friend calls this phenomenon "white noise" however, I can see black in there too. It is my estimation that this is probably some show about a swarm of files.
I also have reason to believe that this device emits harmful radiation. The label calls it a "Plasma" T.V. As everyone knows, Plasma is a state of matter in which gas becomes ionized. This is similar to the state that creates nuclear fusion within stars. Because of this plasma, this device most likely emits harmful gamma radiation! I looked closely at the T.V. and discovered that it says "made in china". This plasma added by the Chinese is likely a communist plot to render the people of the United States sterile.
One plus is that it doesn't use the vacuum tubes that my old T.V. has. It's also much larger and thinner.
In the end, I recommend this product to people that enjoy watching flies, and enjoy self sterilization.
Books! I could never part with my collection of books, partly because they accumulated through much toil and cost on my part and chart my growth as a Lit major through undergrad and grad schools. As another poster noted, I enjoy them better now that reading them is not compulsory.
Still, whenever I open my copy of Midnight's Children, I see mustard stains and remember that pretzels made for a perfect in-between-classes snack and, because pretzels are exceedingly portable, they encouraged outdoor reading (always good for people like me who never get out often enough). My copy of Shame, just like my own complete works of Shakespeare, is still flagged with stickies and scribblings that I can barely decipher. Whenever I read Disgrace, I recall heated debates with my mentor (a South African) about cultural guilt that still occupies my thinking from time to time. One page of Jude the Obscure is punctuated with O- M- G-! down the margin. However much Hardy's novels moved me, sometimes the misery of his later offerings was even more than an angsty undergrad could hope to endure. All the paperbacks, all the hardbacks, all the Norton Critical editions, all the Dover thrift editions, all the postructural and posthuman philosophical texts and tomes on cultural criticism that complicate the reading. For over ten years, these books were the largest portion of my life.
I cried when, on unpacking boxes from storage in our new house, my hand-me-down collection of '60s and '70s hardback sci-fi had finally succumbed to mold. The family friend who'd given them to me had passed on, and this collection told me more than I ever thought I could have known of him. And like him, passed now into dust.
I have eight bookcases in all, about half of them double-stacked: so many feelings I've never had occasion to feel in day-to-day life (such despair, mania, hubris, etc.), so many places I've never seen, so many political situations I've never had to survive with grace and decency intact, so many recipes I've never tried my hand at. These books complete me where they do not explain me to myself.
That you have a similar love for books makes me warm to you as to an old friend. That you also have the pack-rat gene convinces me that you are a kindred spirit. I need the Looney Tunes character glasses from Pepsi that I used when I was four years old (what's left of them are in the cabinet, ready for use). I need the smilie face piggy bank I received on my fifth Christmas. It looms atop one of my bookcases in the office instead of a raven statue, globe, or similar. Likewise, the plaster gargoyle and zodiac blanket I got at my first Renaissance fair are at home there. I've kept every book and set of die that I've ever used for tabletop RPGing, regardless that I haven't played in over 10 years. I just need them. Posters, mugs, pens, other paraphernalia, they are cluttered around my office, too, threatening to wash me away in their tide until I find a better way to organize them. Like the protagonist of The Waste Land, am I shoring these fragments against my ruins? Perhaps all these signs of who I am and where I've been do keep me from coming apart at the seams a little. ;D It's inexplicable, or to paraphrase your apt words once more, "I just need them."
"My only regret is that I will never have the time to read all the books I want to read."
I don't think I'm really out of control with my books. I mean, people come over and look around and say "Man, you must read a lot", but I just think it's normal. Four floor to ceiling bookshelves in a one bedroom apartment double-stacked is normal, isn't it? And it's totally normal to wedge more into the DVD shelves. And have a big pile on the desk. And on both living room end tables. And inside the end tables. And on the bedroom bedside tables. Oh, and that drawer of the bedside table where I store all the impulse buys I am really going to get too, as soon as I finish re-re-reading The Last Samauri (no relation to Tom Cruise.) Totally normal.
I mean, every woman must contemplate a new purse selection not in terms of style or cost, but on whether a large size paperback,at least, can fit into it. Right? And take out half the clothes she's packed for a vacation to make sure the seven books that are making the trip with her don't cause heavy baggage fees. Every woman must be determined to buy at least a couple new sweaters so she doesn't look a complete ragamuffin for the sixth year in a row, but hey! Diane Ackerman and Kate McConnel both have new hardbacks out! A true bibliophile waits not for the paperback release.
Beside the bed are my inherited Bible and a row of humor books, since you should always attempt sleep with a peaceful mind and a smile. Three Men In A Boat always does the trick. And you don't have to be a believer to appreciate the writing of the King James Bible (I am, but don't feel it's required.) If a person cannot feel tingly at reading Song Of Solomon, to quote Anne Lamott, someone has gotten inside your brain and really fucked you up.
I understand your dread at book recommendations, since nothing presses mortality more than hearing of yet another book, one that sounds so glorious, funny, wrenching, or just plain good--all flooding upon the head in a marvelous, skull-bruising downpour. Impossible to catch them all. But let me fit one more bookcase in here, and I'll try.
dear Mr. Ebert,
thank you, thank you for your fantastic blog entry about books! i've had to defend my large book collection many times and you've explained very eloquently why it is we "need" all our books, even though we (probably) will never read them all.
slightly off subject, i too collect movie/film books and for years i've had your 1986 movie/video guide on my want list. it will complete my collection but i'm beginning to wonder if it even exists!
p.s. one of my most treasured books: the 1993 edition of your movie guide which you graciously signed and inscribed for me when i screwed up my courage to approach you at the Telluride Film Festival that year. thanks again :)
I prefer the style and construction of older books. 1950's 60's and 70's. The style and quality are better, the typeface and font are more interesting and they seem to be better constructed. Used book stores have that certain style unencumbered by the stale, corporate feeling of your Borders and Barnes and Noble. Walk into a used book store and you are immediately effected by the smell, interesting music and the owner's personal idiosyncracies. Unfortunately, they just closed down the 250,000 volume Wahrenbrocks in San Diego. However, we still have 3 or 4 great used book stores here including DG Wills, Adams Ave Books, Maxwell's House of Books.
The only new book store that to me has the feel of a used book store is City Lights in San Francisco. Located at the nexus of Chinatown and North Beach, this icon is a must visit for the bibliophile. It has creaky wooden floors, a great selection of books, (they also have their own publishing company), and wild jazz music piped throughout the store. You walk out of here with a few books under your arm on a cold, foggy San Francisco night, look out at Coit Tower and you are in literary heaven. Of course the store is a little on the anarchist side, but I find that interesting.
As far as used book stores, The Strand in New York City is incredible. They have a selection of used and new books side by side and the size of the place, upstairs and downstairs is fantastic. You could literally spend hours here. In Chicago I have only been to Printers Row and the Abe Lincoln book shop. I loved them both but they were definitely on the pricey side. How about other used book stores in Chicago? Powells, etc... Can anybody recommend others in Chicago or around the nation?
Ebert: New books , especially novels, often seem just too damn unnecessarily big.
On 57th St in Chicago's Hyde Park, you'll find the romantic, atmospheric O'Gara and Wilson. Here's their blog:
http://www.blogger.com/profile/05546003060030619631
Also a second Powell's, and the invaluable
http://semcoop.booksense.com/NASApp/store/IndexJsp
I was lucky enough to grow up in a household with parents who loved and cherished books. My brother and I were never bored or could say we had nothing to do when we had a home full of books.
Every time we do a spring cleaning we come across our massive sets of bookshelves and cannot bring ourselves to get rid of any books.
Logically, yes, we haven't read any of these books for many years and they are collecting dust. But like you say, you can't just throw them out either. We end up looking at the covers and are reminded of when we first read them and end up putting them right back on the shelf.
It's a shame how books in the house are perceived now in today's society. It seems everything about the modern home has to be asthetically pleasing as seen in the latest home decor magazine.
Bookshelves are seen as an eyesoar as the spines are not colour co-ordinated and the different sizes of books lined up together make a room appear jumbled, unorganized and disrupt the "flow" of a room. A certain no-no by the standard of the design "experts" that flood our TVs, magazines and newspapers on a daily basis.
We need books to enrich our lives. They are symbolic of learning, growing & gaining knowledge.
In the age of so many frivulous distractions, encouraging reading will always be a must in our household.
Every bookshelf I've ever owned is basically a challenge: How quickly can I fill them up? Naturally, I can't pretend to have read every book I've owned, but used bookstores have a particular siren call. I can't tell you how many emergency trips I've made to Detroit to bail out my small room in Cincinnati - so many books and not enough room.
I'm the same way with DVDs, worse with things from my childhood. Out in the garage are buckets of legos, wrestling action figures, and Hot Wheels cars. In the basement are the boxes of comic books I collected when I worked at a shop. The books I own that aren't in my dorm room are strewn everywhere. Thankfully, my mom understands the compulsion. I don't know how she puts up with me.
If I were to pare down my existence here in Cincinnati to the bare essentials, I'd be stuck with a chair, a desk, my fountain pen, a rice cooker, a fridge, my netbook, my speakers, books, music, and my USB turntable. And clothes, I guess, as long as I didn't have to sacrifice space I'd prefer to use on my record crates. Luckily enough, no matter where I move post-college, it'll be bigger than this room. The library style bookshelves my aunt has been saving for me can finally be one with the old Romanian number in my dorm room, and I won't be forced to choose between Nine Stories and The Catcher in the Rye.
This leads right in to my favorite dilemma. What books to take with me on a trip. I have to travel from central Ohio to SE Pennsylvania for 3 whole days to attend a wedding and I have to have enough reading material to satisfy all possible whims. So far I'm leaning toward DON QUIXOTE (my novel), either Spenser or Christina Rossetti (gotta have some poetry), a book of ghost or horror stories (an October tradition), something on the history of auto-racing (a 3 year obsession), maybe a book of folklore or fairy-tales, and probably a book of early newspaper comics (Terry and the Pirates or Popeye or maybe Dick Tracy - all great stuff by the way). One never knows if he'll have some downtime on a trip.
Serdar: "I'm the fellow who dropped his phone on the driveway, face-down, and then stepped on it and watched it skate into the street."
You have lived the dream.
Here's one for you Roger, which of your books tells the greatest story not its own?
Ebert: I know what you mean by that, but, hmmm...
How I got my first copy of the "Big Book" of AA.
I think going to the public library is almost better than going to the bookstore. I love the worn and handled books and the smell of the old paper has an allure. Every book there has a history based on the check out date stamped in faded ink. The library is a place for someone who truly values reading. Today's bookstores have become like huge superstores with only the most current books and as much empathysis on other media and coffee than on the books.
Reading Frank McDevitt's post about The Lord of the Rings (October 6, 11:38 AM) made me want to share my own Lord of the Rings story:
Back in 1989 or 1990, my dad purchased a computer game called War in Middle Earth, based on The Lord of the Rings novels. In order to beat the game, I decided to start reading my parents' old paperback copies of The Fellowship of the Ring, The Two Towers, and The Return of the King (this would have been around the time I was entering sixth grade). I still remember what the book covers looked like (and that the books were cheap--$1.75 each, I believe). Well, I never beat the game, for though I started taking notes on The Fellowship of the Ring to do just that, I stopped taking notes some point after the hobbits arrive in Rivendell, but continued reading.
Because I was in school, it took me a long time to finish The Fellowship of the Ring (about a year), but once the summer came, I made quick work of The Two Towers and The Return of the King. The climax of The Return of the King and the episode in Shelob's lair in The Two Towers (when Sam stabs Shelob with Sting) stirred in me the most powerful emotions I have ever experienced while reading a book. In fact, I was on an emotional high for several hours after reading the climax, lasting through my reading of the rest of the book and the appendices.
The Lord of the Rings was the first book (or series of books) to stir such emotions in me, and--in many ways--other great experiences with books have never equaled it. I now have my own hardcover copy of The Lord of the Rings trilogy, but when I read it, will it smell musty, like my parents' books did? Will the pages be slightly browned by age, as they were? Will it give me the sense that I am reading something very old and very special, as it did when I first picked up my parents' copies and began flipping through their pages? Perhaps not, for my memories of my parents' volumes involve everything from the covers, to how they felt in my hand, to how they smelled.
As for Moby Dick, Mr. Ebert, that is the only book I have attempted to read that I had to put down before I finished it. This was due to sheer boredom. Having said that, I am not giving up. I am sure that someday, I shall read the entire thing. I almost stopped reading The Red and the Black, too, but I was rewarded for my diligence with an ending that was superior to most parts of the book.
Finally, I will worry about Finnegan's Wake after I get through Ulysses, which (like Moby Dick) I am putting off until some unknown point in the future, and sometime after I reread Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man.
By Ryan Crowe on October 6, 2009 10:23 AM
Tell us something about Roman Polanski
Haven't you heard enough from everyone else? Check out my blog if you want to hear the bottom line on the whole thing.
Thank you for this post. It’s comforting to see that I’m not the only one who pack-rats books like some sort of demented squirrel. Have to say though, your storage techniques sound kind of disorganized and not at all in accordance with the Dewey Decimal System. Here’s betting your local library keeps a mug-shot of you on their wall of shame.
So how do you find books when they’re all piled higgledy-piggledy like that? At the very least, I’d have the shakes if the ones I’ve already finished weren’t segregated from those that were on the to-do list. How do you sleep at night? I’m guessing on a uncatalogued, shambolic heap of pulp fiction, cookbooks and the Beatrix Potter miniature collection series. It’s uncivilized.
Confession…My ultimate guilty pleasure is going to a charity used books sale with its endless tables filled with thousands of books marked at ridiculously low prices. I bring my own box. It’s joyful. It’s Shangri-la. It’s a Vegas jackpot without the tacky theme hotels and Cirque de Soleil.
Just wondering whether you have tried to read any book of the discworld series written by Terry Pratchett? Would love to get your opinion on those. Especially when I hear Hollywood is trying to turn a couple of those in films...
I am finally inching forward through Faust having stumbled across a bilingual pocket Bantam edition for $1.00 at the massive used book bazaar in the precincts of our Panjab University. To quote some that I underlined:
In parchment you seek the spring
Whose draught will slake your thirst forever?
You must draw it from your inward soul
Or else you'll ne'er be satisfied!
and more strongly
Go paste your words together
A gruel of morsels left by others!
Work up a feeble flame
From your puny pile of ashes!
I personally feel the urge to purge myself of the ever amassing accretions of paper objects( when and how do they reproduce?).
We have what you would call a Waste Paper Man who goes around the neighbourhoods on his bicycle announcing himself in a powerful baritone and you can unload all your old newspapers,magazines and unwanted books on him.
Recently I carried out a massive operation and my bookshelves are real lean and mean now and I hope to make them and shrink, shrink...
One of the blessings of the net is that it don't need no vacuum cleaning...
My wife and I have accumulated books for many years now by any means necessary: bookstores, used bookstores, library inventory sales, garages sales, and so on. We had one ramshackle bookcase that they went in, and the rest would go in boxes in the spare room. About a year ago, I went to IKEA and filled two walls of the spare room with floor to ceiling bookcases. The spare room, once a garbage dump, is now a library and is easily the most comfortable room in the house. My favorite moments are spent sitting in this room and reading books under the soft incandescent glow of a single 60 watt bulb. Sometimes it's the little things that make life worth living.
I'm currently reading David Mura's Famous Suicides of the Japanese Empire (and by "currently," I mean I just put the book down to write this). In it, he mentions Yeats's "Easter, 1916," which brought back memories of reading it for the first time.
My first impulse was to get up and grab my collection of Yeats's poems from the shelf to read "Easter" again. Then I realized I'm at a coffee shop, and that my book of Yeats's poetry is on a different continent. I guess I could look it up online, but it just wouldn't be the same.
I have an enormous collection of books, and I think my wife despairs at its breadth and depth sometimes. She loves books, but doesn't have the collect-and-keep mindworm.
Each book I buy is a purchase not just of the book itself, but of the idea that I will have the time to read it at some point. Were that true, given the number of books I've bought, the number I'm likely to buy over the rest of my life, and my average reading speed, I think I would be effectively immortal at this point.
Plus, none of us ever want to be in the position of the poor bookshop owner in the classic Monty Python skit!
The longer you wear it, the more it feels like chamois! I've been wearing it a long, long time. I can't say it feels like chamois, never having worn chamois. But I want to work on it some more.
I also need this tea mug from Keats House in Hampstead, even though its handle is broken off. I need it to hold these ball-point pens I had printed with the words, No good movie is too long. No bad movie is short enough. They were 100 for $39, I think. The ink has all dried up over the years, but I still need need them in order to provide a purpose for the mug.
This is like the noodle master in Tampopo, who wants to respect the noodles and even say "see you" to the pork before eating it.
You want to drag a beloved shirt to eternity. And ofcourse, the tea mug is the only tea mug which is the tea mug you bought in Keats houser.
Losing things is so heart wrenching, be it an eraser....why should anything become thin air? Do stones and pens and tea mugs have life?
After all animate matter is aggregated from inanimate!
Your words ring so true. My wife and I are just as well suckers for used books. I carry a notebook with dozens of books that have been recommended to me in case I come across one in a used bookstore.
And who can get rid of a book once they've obtained it? Even crappy highschool and college textbooks seem to find their way onto shelves or (sadly, since we are in a small rental house) into boxes, never intending to leave our permanent collection.
Over my lunch break today I walked a few blocks to the downtown Library here (and returned in the pouring rain) to find a collection of Raymond Carver's short stories, but it just isn't the same to obtain a book temporarily.
Glad to see that there are book lovers the world over who, even though their books are worth a great deal in dollar value, measure the true worth of their collection by the memories and potential of enjoyment that each book holds.
I have two bookshelves in my room booth of them are six feet tall, about; taller than I am. The shelves are carefully ordered. I feel as though what I put at the top of the bookshelf defines my personality. Right now at the top of the shelf on the left are Mutiny on the Bounty, a selection from The Jesuit Relations and the screenplay for Bonnie and Clyde.
The books that I'm currently reading aren't actually shelved, I carry them around with me all day and at night I put them just where I can see them in the morning. Right now I'm reading a math book called How to Solve It, by George Polya and have been sleeping in because of the sight of it.
My parents regard my reading and writing mostly as a fire hazard. They never really bothered to set positive standards anyhow, it's always been they're style to just let me know when I've done something wrong. You could say they were leaving me silence between notes. Giving myself aims is something I learned from books. And what aims to have. And how to pursue them.
I haven't read a novel in years, instead there's been philosophy, science, and very old plays. People who can make books their tutors gain awesome independence. Maybe there's nothing more american than having books at home. I don't know, I;m Canadian. My experience is that you can't assume others will value the books you cherish. The volume of literature in this world, in English alone, is vast. There is a danger of being overwhelmed. So I put off reading novels for the moment and instead I spend time internalizing facts about scientific marvels, and reading from wisdom books that help me keep my feet on the ground.
I think the internet is good for the world of books. Online catalogues have made it easier than ever to discover books whose contents we can be proud to stand behind. The internet even offers personal cataloguing applications which link to social networking sites such as this one at: http://livingsocial.com. Seeing a list what someone has read tells you a lot about where they are in life, I'd say. I take care to update my page and rate what I've read.
My favorite books as of this moment are Mirrors in the Brain by Giacomo Rizzolatti, Corrado Sinigaglia, Frances Anderson (Translator), Screenwriting: The Sequence Approach by Paul Joseph Gulino, and Antigone by Sophocles.
I have a very small collection of books that I call my "library." It consists largely of books on film and criticism, but there are a few novels that I stick in for regular perusing/reading. But one keeps finding its way into the collection: Maggie Cassidy by Kerouac. It's a Penguin paperback that I bought at a used bookstore in downtown St. Louis. Later in the evening I met some friends at a small Italian restaurant on the Hill and went home and couldn't put the book down. Every book tells a story and with most books, especially the really good ones, they spark a memory.
"What do I really need that isn't here in this room?"
I would add to your list of things that are required only one: a beautiful and intelligent woman.
There are few things as pleasurable as a day spent reading indoors (and I agree, out of the rain, so you have both the sound of the rain and no reason to leave the room) in the company of a woman (I add "beautiful", but I need not, for what woman who reads isn't?) similarly engaged. Even the quietest and most personal of pleasures is made better by the company of a good woman. Highlights of the day should include:
1. Long stretches of silence
2. Occasional glances up (helps relieve eyestrain) and exchanges of smiles (good for the heart)
3. A shared cup of tea with unforced conversation about what is being read (or not)
4. Long periods of time in which you both read while your feet overlap
5. Plans to go out for a bite to eat (or dare I suggest it, a movie) in the evening
There is one other item on the agenda, of course. No man needs to be told what it is, and no gentleman would enumerate it. It adds to the enjoyment of the reading, and the reading reciprocates.
Greetings Roger and fellow readers!
This is my favorite of all your essays. It is also timely. Recently, I just finished a highly-detailed cataloging of all 6741 books, academic journal articles, and films in my personal library. This activity took over 3300 hours and covered three years.
Like you I am thrilled at having books that cover every conceivable subject. Each book has a story of how it was acquired. There are personal inscriptions by previous (and some related) owners that have great spirit and reasonance.
I've decided that any potential life partner of mine must love to read! Thank you so very much for a highly life-affirming essay.
Chris Alders
Nova Scotia, Canada
In my youth, I read books faster than I could afford to buy them. Nowadays, DVDs and the Internet have stolen much of my time and attention, and I don't read books as quickly as I acquire them. This means I'll eventually die with a lot of unread books in my possession. If there's a Heaven it'll have very comfortable armchairs. (But I wouldn't bet on it.)
Is "Ellison Wonderland" as interesting as they say...?
I've always been slightly puzzled why so many people remember "Lord of the Rings" trilogy so fondly.
There are certain books that "everybody reads."
One of them was "The Godfather."
"Whenever the Godfather opened his mouth," Mario Puzo wrote, "in my own mind I heard the voice of my mother. I heard her wisdom, her ruthlessness, and her unconquerable love for her family and for life itself, qualities not valued in women at the time. The Don's courage and loyalty came from her; his humanity came from her."
Q: How did you come to write The Godfather?
Puzo: I wrote it to make money. One editor (at Atheneum) wistfully remarked that if "Mamma Lucia: The Fortunate Pilgrim" had only had a little more of that Mafia stuff in it maybe the book would have made money. I was forty-five years old and I owed $20,000 to relatives, finance companies, banks and assorted bookmakers and shylocks. It was really time to grow up and sell out as Lenny Bruce once advised. So I told my editors OK, I’ll write a book about the Mafia.
Q: But then wasn’t it rejected?
Puzo: I wrote a ten-page outline. They showed me the door again. There is no way to explain the terrible feeling of rejection, the damage.
(You want names? Hiram Haydn told his partners it was "junk.")
Q: So how did it finally get published?
Puzo: Nobody would take me. Months went by. One day a writer friend dropped into my magazine office....
(Note: Puzo worked as a writer/editor for men's magazines, with titles like Male, True Action, and Swank. He wrote World War II adventure features under the pseudonym Mario Cleri for True Action. He also published book reviews, stories, and articles in such journals as Redbook, Holiday, Book World, and the New York Times. In 1965 Fortunate Pilgrim was published by Atheneum. After an expensive medical emergency - a gallbladder attack - Puzo decided to write a book based on Mafia anecdotes he'd heard while working at the magazines, and started to collect material on the East Coast branches of the Cosa Nostra.)
Puzo:... As a natural courtesy I gave him a copy of The Fortunate Pilgrim. A week later he came back. He thought I was a great writer. I bought him a magnificent lunch. During lunch I told him some funny stories about the Mafia and showed him my ten-page outline. He was enthusiastic. He arranged a meeting for me with the editors of G. P. Putnam’s Sons. The editors just sat around for an hour listening to my Mafia stories and said go ahead. They also gave me a $5000 advance and I was on my way.
Q: Did you have any first-hand knowledge about the Mafia?
Puzo: I’m ashamed to admit that I wrote The Godfather entirely from research. I never met a real honest-to-god gangster.
Here's another version of the story, from Robert Evans:
In the spring of 1968, a largely unknown writer named Mario Puzo walked into the office of Robert Evans, the head of production at Paramount Pictures.
Puzo had a big cigar and a belly to match, and Evans had consented to take a meeting with this nobody from New York only as a favor to a friend.
Under the writer’s arm was a rumpled envelope containing 50 or 60 pages of typescript, which he desperately needed to use as collateral for cash.
“In trouble?,” Evans asked.
And how. (The title of his treatment was "Mafia".) Though the word had been in use in its current meaning in Italy since the 19th century, it gained recognition in America in a 1951 report by the Kefauver Committee, a congressional group headed by Democratic senator Estes Kefauver, of Tennessee, created to investigate organized crime. The good news, Puzo claimed, was that the word had never before been used in a book or film title.
“I’ll give you ten G’s for it as an option against $75,000 if it becomes a book,” Evans remembers telling the writer, more out of pity than excitement. “And he looked at me and said, ‘Could you make it fifteen?’ And I said, ‘How about twelve-five?’”
Without even glancing at the pages, Evans sent them to Paramount’s business department, along with a pay order, and never expected to see Puzo, much less his cockamamy novel, again. A few months later, when Puzo called and asked, “Would I be in breach of contract if I change the name of the book?,” Evans almost laughed out loud. “I had forgotten he was even writing one.” Puzo said, “I want to call it The Godfather.”
Puzo finished writing in July of 1968 and used the final installment of his advance to take his wife and children to Europe. He returned home in debt once more, only to learn that bidding for paperback rights to The Godfather had reached $375,000 and was still climbing.
The winning offer, $410,000, was a record at the time. (I think Atheneum, who published the hardcover, kept half.)
After the novel topped the New York Times bestseller list, Burt Lancaster offered Paramount a million dollars for the movie rights, planning to play Don Corleone himself. Afraid that the Paramount board would take Lancaster's offer, Evans rushed the movie into production.
Let me finish with a comment about Steven Spielberg, who once said, "The word I love to hear most is the word Yes." Because, to get started, someone has to say the word "Yes." Whether you're talking about books or movies.
As kids, we were always big readers. Two of my sisters have continued, collecting pretty much as you have described. I was more episodic. Each year I'd buy as much of an author as possible and read as much as possible. I enjoyed the immersion. Then, as the years went on, I'd have to buy the new titles of those authors. Some didn't get read, but I think that's how I ensure my future.
I was about halfway through Finnegan's Wake when I put it down. Now I've lost my place. I keep thinking that I've read this part before but I'm not sure if that's true or not.
My wife does not understand books. I gave in a couple times, once I lost all of Elmore Leonard in a garage sale. I am somewhat consoled that someone else can enjoy them, but it still doesn't feel quite the same way. More surprising was that Hemingway didn't sell.
To: Shane
YOU sir are one of the reasons I seldom get anything useful done. (Well, and these blog chapters with their ever-growing, endlessly thought-provoking comment tails.)
I innocently clicked on your link to the Amazon reviewer person which led me to Amazon's honest-to-gosh serious page for Uranium Ore. Forget the uranium, nearly every segment and link on this page is solid gold.
...wife just walked in and asked if I didn't have anything better to do. What kind of question is that?
Ebert: Readers, this will strike you as decidedly odd, but I have decided to try out twittering.
http://twitter.com/ebertchicago
An experiment, which may produce a blog entry.
Many people don't understand me because I reread most books. I don't understand them because they don't.
Thanks for such a marvelous essay. Books will never die.
Beautiful blog post as always, Roger, but I was taken aback by your use of the word occult to describe the I Ching. It's as natural as any philosophy book I've ever read (okay I've read two, and one of them was a textbook). Doesn't the occult have to do with the paranormal?
Ebert: of, involving, or relating to supernatural, mystical, or magical powers or phenomena
The theory that you can obtain actual guidance from it is magical, no? Don't get em wrong. I have it as an iPhone app. I also have the straws and the Chinese me.
Roger,
Have you seen and envied Neil Gaiman's basement bookshelves? I believe he employs a librarian, actually.
http://blog.shelfari.com/ronbrinkmann/2009/08/gaimans-bookshelf-details.html
It's pretty cool!
By the way, I'm a 7th Grade English teacher and I try to "furnish" my class with books so kids get used to the idea of having books around them. It's great.
Ever since I stumbled across Amazon Marketplace my room has filled up with apologues by old Russian prisoners and gay African Americans relocated in France assuaged by Nixonian muckraking and realist "revisionist" history. It's always astonishing to me that the 'Mona Lisa' is considered priceless but I can obtain 'War and Peace' for five dollars (shipping included). I'll take 'The Turn of the Screw' and a "Cafe noir." on Montebello overlooking the Notre Dame anyday over a poor women falling off her canvas amongst the gaggle of colloquial Tom Hanks fans.
[All this coming from a BFA in Painting. Sigh.]
I found a boxed edition of Proust's entire Recherche once. I was almost overcome by the instinct to kneel and start worshiping it. One of many such instances. The fact that in Turin libraries seem to sprout out of thin air like mushrooms doesn't make it any better, nor does it make my wallet any heavier. Fortunately, I have my parents to provide food and clothing for me.
Like you, I too have the reproduction of Shakespeare's Folio Edition, but I love to read it precisely because of the typography and spelling. I find it makes it easier to read as I have to "hear" the words in my head to be able to read them, giving me more of a sense of the spoken rhythm of his words. I made this happy discovery while reading "The Shakespearean Moment" by Patrick Cruttwell, which I highly recommend if you haven't read it.
And I understand the importance of unread books. Having books I haven't read around me is something of a moral imperative. It reminds me of how ignorant I am on a regular basis.
Just joyous reading these memories. Thanks Mr. Ebert. I'd just add I was lucky enough to be at Shakespeare and Co. the last week of August on a beautiful Wednesday afternoon. There was a First Edition of "Portrait of the Artist of a Young Man." It almost made me cry just to hold it. Hopefully it finds a good protector.
I could never throw out my books either.
I am a Stephen King fan. I have read many of his books, and I enjoy going back and rereading passages. Every time I close "IT" (what I believe to be his best book), it feels like i'm saying goodbye to some good friends.
It's one of the reasons I love his books so much- the characters are so real, it's scary.
*sigh* It's a shame video games and movies are outsourcing books. If only more people would have the patience to sit down and read every now and then.
Roger, I admire and appreciate the way you pace your blog. Despair and resignation followed by uplift.
My birthday is Thursday and I could use bookshelves.
I need to start reading more. In this age of Netflix I've found myself consumed by an insatiable appetite for movies, movies, movies. Anyone who is simultaneously a bibliophile and cinephile must have unbelievable time-management skills.
@S M Rana: I love Goethe.
I read Goethe's Faust in German during high school. It's hard, sure, but it's extremely rewarding. As is Die Leiden des jungen Werthers.
Having said that, my favourite work of his is Iphigenie auf Tauris. It's gorgeous.
Seriously, don't get me started on Goethe. Because soon you'd tell me to Goethe hell.
The OED was a real communal effort, you know. There were, for example, two sisters who contributed something like 600 words and definitions. They just sent them in from their village in Cumbria, or somewhere. Amazing.
Even JRR Tolkien worked on a few words. Walrus, for example.
Ebert: Readers, this will strike you as decidedly odd, but I have decided to try out twittering.
NO!!! Don't press that button! There is no way back...
Hello Roger,
It is always a joy, and always rewarding, to find others like me. I also find it shocking how much we readers, or "literary addicts" as I like to joke, have in common.
For example I will meet another literary addict by chance, and we will discuss many of the things discussed in the above article and entries. We laugh about how our self control completely abandons us whenever we are in bookstores (especially used ones) or in libraries. We talk about how much trouble we have letting books go, and that we have entirely too many. When people aske me if I have read all my books I respond: "No, but I'm trying to." I am not alone: I have one friend who persistently snatches up first editions of books for her massive collection in her basement; even though she has barely begun to read them all. After we have confessed our hopeless book hoarding problem, we promptly begin reccomending books to each other only exacerbating the problem.
I must say my worst temptation of all was the Book Thing in Baltimore City. It is a wonderful place where you can take your old books to be given to others, and take out books for free. There is a limit of 15,000 per day. Per DAY. They have hundreds of thousands of books in there Mr. Ebert; you know what a temptation that is for people like us. My best friend and I agreed not to take more than five apiece, and we ended up filling the car trunk.
However, what I love most about meeting my fellow readers is the conversation! They always have something intersting to say because every reader is different, and you meet them in so many unexptected places. I had a Candy Store Clerk and devout Einstien historian tell me why Quantum Mechanics is madness in the form of math, and that string theory is being too reliant on its findings when it should be relying on the Theory of Relativity. I had a chef give me an extremely well informed lecture on why "Atlas Shrugged" is a horrible novel, and I should not waste my time with it. I intend to read it anyway, but in return I reccomended that he not read "Catcher in the Rye" a novel I despise. I have my reasons. I was working in a kitchen when I found myself in an arguement with a co-worker on whether or not the East and West will ever find peace in their respective philosophies. This paragraph could go on and on.
So, I will go on reading, taking more books than I can read, and seeking out other readers. They are growing scarce these days, but they are hidden out there.
Now Mr. Ebert. I am thinking of creating an organization called "Literary Addicts Anonymous" for those of us who have entirely too many books. We'll have sponsors, offer support for one another, and we'll even have meetings--in libraries of course.
@Steven Veach
Agreed. You know, a wise man once wrote "Stephen King, sometimes dismissed as merely a best-seller, has in his best novels some of the power of Dickens, who created worlds that enveloped us and populated them with colorful, peculiar, sharply seen characters. King in his strongest work is a storyteller likely to survive as Dickens has, despite the sniffs of the litcrit establishment."
This seems to be the posting following which everyone talks about his or her favorite books. Mine are the Aubrey/Maturin saga.
I seem to remember Roger writing in his Master and Commander review or somewhere that he liked the books, too. Have you read them all, though, Roger, or do a few remain on your shelf, future delights?
I have to admit I was envious reading about your home. I would be far more envious, though, if I hadn't recently visited a friend -- a brilliant friend with two graduate degrees who's a very fine poet, to boot -- who lives in much, much more modest surroundings. Unsafe surroundings, really. He had given away his books. I counted five or six and when we were in grad school together he had hundreds, I'm sure. It made me realize that we are fools to look at what other people have and be envious. The point is being happy with what you have.
Keep writing.
dave outside omaha
Ebert: I think if I hadn't met Chaz I would have never moved on from my previous digs, furniture found in resale shops, which one friend referred to as "Roger's Used Chair Museum." I am grateful to Chaz for the reboot of my life. And before those digs, the Dudaks...
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2009/05/and_say_my_glory_was_i_had_suc.html
To start things off I think I should say that I'm a school librarian, so naturally I'm biased towards books.
Recently, an expensive MA private school has decided to toss out it's books and replace the library with, well, I'll let the Boston Globe explain:
"Instead of a library, the academy is spending nearly $500,000 to create a “learning center,’’ though that is only one of the names in contention for the new space. In place of the stacks, they are spending $42,000 on three large flat-screen TVs that will project data from the Internet and $20,000 on special laptop-friendly study carrels. Where the reference desk was, they are building a $50,000 coffee shop that will include a $12,000 cappuccino machine.
...And to replace those old pulpy devices that have transmitted information since Johannes Gutenberg invented the printing press in the 1400s, they have spent $10,000 to buy 18 electronic readers made by Amazon.com and Sony." [ http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/09/04/a_library_without_the_books/ ]
Brian Kenny, Editor-in-Chief of School Library Journal, a publication that does not shy away from new technology, has a great counterargument to this approach in his blog post, citing a great study from Publisher's Weekly: "Want to encourage reading? Then take advantage of the 86 titles on the 2009 Best Books for Young Adults list created by the Young Adult Library Services Association. Too bad your children will only have access to a handful of them—since most aren’t available digitally. And even if they were, according to a recent study of more than 3,000 teens by Teenreads.com, young adults prefer print (look for the full study in the October 26 issue of Publishers Weekly)." [ http://www.schoollibraryjournal.com/index.asp?layout=talkbackCommentsFull&talk_back_header_id=6627292&articleid=ca6699099 ]
The current trend is to use more electronic resources in research. I personally think that the online version of World Book has superior usability when compared to the old paper encyclopedia. However in a rush to divest ourselves of old technology and "appeal to the sensibilities of today's plugged in kids" we are forgetting to consider what the children actually want and need.
Ebert: This news is appalling.
As much of a coffee fan as I am, I'm even more of a tea fan, especially when I'm reading an actual book (as oppose to reading online, which the world has been forcing me to do too much of these days).
You know what's my favorite part of a tea mug? The rings of speckled, charcole brown stain that quietly mark the inside of the mug. Like a vintage photograph, it speaks of the countless cups of reverence I've held in my palms in past hours, days, months, years. Countless moments of personal reflection, deep reverie, precocious daydreaming, and silly fantasies.
A well-read book does the same. You can feel the weight of its memories, test the weariness of its pages, and every flick of your fingers adds to its magic. I seriously feel that there are few things more beautiful than the gift of an old, used, personally meaningful book. You can write a message inside the front cover (hardcover, fountain pen, hopefully), foregoing the need of a card which will simply be lost through the passage of time. Thick, solid wrapping paper. No bow or ribbons. Maybe a cute sticker to keep it all together.
I actually don't have as many books as I should. Because I move so much, it's not practical to collect them now, both financially and spatially. I love libraries though. Sometimes you'll find little writings people leave on the margins, or pages dog earred, and I move my finger past the creases, feeling its rises and falls, wondering if they were doing a school project, writing a memoir, or perhaps needed to get some inspiration for a good note to their significant other. Were they reclined in a wooden rocking chair by the window sill, or maybe curled up in a coffeeshop beside the frosted glass, or maybe sitting upright in front of their huge, messy desk, facing a night of stars, with the fireplace cackling softly behind them? Maybe, maybe, maybe. All those possibilities.
When I finally find a nest...they will come by the trucks.
Ebert: And every precious stain tells its story. Even the occasional blood stain.
I want to hear this one.
Ebert: You want to be mindful when peeling vegetables toward where your thumb and index finger meet.
Ever since I saw the movie "After Life," I have stopped myself at the end of any particularly pleasant day to wonder if I would choose to spend all of eternity reliving the memory of that day. It sounds like yours would be easy to choose.
Several people mentioned Stephen King. He pretty much saved my life in my teenage years, when I realized that living half the year at my father's house was not good for my mental health, so I retreated to my room and devoured his entire ouevre. On Writing and The Stand still sit on my college apartment bookshelf, as do most of Kurt Vonnegut's work, several Cormac McCarthys, Richard Dawkins, King Lear, and some Onion books. I admit that my book collection is somewhat lacking, and I haven't been reading as much as I used to, but I do love a good book, especially since they've gotten me through so many hard times.
Ebert: It is clear from these comments that a great many readers value Stephen King.
I discovered Simenon's Maigret a little less than two years ago and I have now read all of the books that my local library has to offer and bought all the books that my two local used book stores had (there were only four that I hadn't read... sad). I am content however, as I now have something else to hope for at yard-sales and wayside used bookstores. I did try to branch out into Simenon's non-Maigret books but the darkness of them was too heavy for my tastes (three out of the eight or nine that I tried ended in either suicide or attempted suicide). The Maigret books are dark, there's no denying that, but you know that at the end, no matter how vile the crime, Maigret will head home, pipe clenched firmly in teeth, to Madame's soothing aperitifs and delectable meals.
Ebert: You will not soon run out of unread Simenons.
It seems after the divisiveness of your last posting you have found the perfect topic to bring us all together again.
How to explain the love of books and movies to those who just don't understand? How many people here have been asked, why don't you just get them from the library? It's not the same, you try to tell them, but they just don't get it.
When I lived in Hawaii, I owned a collection of almost a thousand books that I had crammed into tiny bookshelves that took up about half the space in my 300 square foot apartment. When it came time for me to move back to the mainland I slimmed down my collection a bit and shipped fifteen boxes of books out. All the rest of my worldly possessions went into three suitcases. I recently moved again to Florida, I brought 25 boxes with me, sixteen of which were books and movies. They literally make up most of my life.
The only way I can get people to understand the books is by telling them I'm an English major, which to most people is the only reason they can possibly comprehend for why someone would have so many. Who could possibly want all those books just for the sheer pleasure of it? The movies are a bit trickier. I've given up on trying to explain why I don't just go to Blockbuster or pirate them (interesting social experiment, try telling anyone you meet that you consider pirating movies amoral and catalogue the range of stunned incredulity you encounter), though even I have to admit the film collection has gotten a little out of hand. Once upon a time I operated upon the theory that my personal collection should only contain films that I would return to again and again, but at 350 odd titles and counting, that theory is starting to collapse under its own weight. Yet there isn't a single one of them I'm willing to part with.
Roger, I have often wondered if every thumbs-up review is in your movie collection or if you show more discrimination than that in your purchases.
Thanks, once again, for another post that resonates strongly with me. I taught high school English for ten years, and now I teach pre-service English teachers at the university level. One of the most productive pieces of writing I've had my students do over the years (and it's something I use again and again, regardless of the age of my students) is to describe their reading history, or reading autobiography.
They start by plotting their most memorable reading experiences on a timeline. It can include memories of being read to as a child, stumbling over first words, graduating from picture books to chapter books, latching onto to that first favorite author, etc. We talk for a while about the children's book canon and the Young Adult Literature canon, and why school seems to turn so many voracious readers against reading, at least for a little while (and this is certainly true of me; I didn't read any of the classics until I had to teach them).
The students share stories with each other and with me of their favorite reading experiences, and then they write their reading autobiographies. They describe cherished moments, interpretive struggles, favorite authors, and memorable texts, and trace any trends they notice in their histories. As a university professor, I want these future English teachers to remember what it was about reading that excited and inspired them in the first place. But just as (or perhaps more) importantly, I wanted my high school students to remember that reading is fun, and that long before they had to take quizzes on assigned reading or write essays that only asked them affirm their teacher's reading of the text, reading held a much different place in their lives. In the upper grades' push to have students read more efferently (reinforced by state standards documents and high-stakes testing), it seems vital for students to cling to the aesthetic pleasure of reading they had when they were younger.
I just graduated from college last spring and packed up all my books that I had collected during time there. I am reminded of what Philip Roth wrote in one of his Zuckerman novels when he said that he could tell that he had changed because every time he moved the number of boxes of books would increase. I enjoyed your essay very much.
I actually had to sell some of books this year to ensure that I would have gas in my car and ramen noodles in my kitchen cabinets. I sold books I never thought I would part with (Good Omens by Terry Pratchett and Neil Gaiman) and books I wasn't quite sure why I still had is my possession (The Left Behind Series by Tim LaHaye and Jery B. Jenkins). Believe me when I say it was incredibly difficult.
We've clearly had similar relationships with books.
Mine started inauspiciously--Superman and Spider-Man comics--and didn't flourish until after high school quit making me read things in which I had little interest. I started with popular literature (Stephen King, Tom Clancy, etc.), reached out into sci-fi (Arthur Clarke, Frank Herbert, Aldous Huxley, etc.), and finally worked up to "great" literature (McCarthy, Homer, Dostoevsky, Nabokov, Aescyhlus, etc.). I now can quote many sections of Shakespeare's Julius Caesar, a play I detested reading in the 11th grade, but whose imprint I now see in every good film that puts duty and loyalty in opposition.
I'll read most any relevent non-fiction, really, but much of my own personal library is filled with history, economics, and hard sciences. I've had many long lessons from Herodotus, Adam Smith, and Albert Einstein. I've seen the beginnings of a world war through Barbara Tuchman's eyes, the middle class through Karl Marx's, and the end of the universe through Stephen Hawking's. These are wonderful conversations that I'm glad to have had, but there is a sadness, too, that more people will never have them.
My bookshelves at home are like photo albums of travels I took in my mind; each book is a symbol of hours I spent absorbed in a new experience. Most of these books were good, some bad, and a few life-alteringly great. Throw any of these great memories away? Ridiculous.
I know exactly how you feel. When there is a book I want to read I try to find the oldest copy of it I can, not necessarily in good condition, but good enough to be a reader copy. Somehow that seems to add to the enjoyment of the experience of reading. I picked up an old R. L. Stevenson complete works and he quickly became my favorite author. Similarly I bought a century-old leather-bound pocket series of Scott's Waverly novels, but after reading a few I was contented to just look at them on the shelf. :) I collect old medical books for their unintended humor.
Regarding the Viking Sagas, I have not read it, but I saw a lousy version of that as a movie late at night on TV. See: http://www.imdb.com/title/tt0114851/ Bad, but I couldn't look away. It was beautiful, must have been filmed in Iceland but poorly executed. My most striking memory of that movie was the fantastic scenery with huge and heroic norsemen battling and riding around the best they could on their tiny little ponies. I suppose it was appropriate to the period, but awkward.
Ebert: I just don't get Scott.
What do you feed the elephants?
Ebert: They forage.
@ Heather - "..the getting of knowledge should be, uh, tangible, it should be, um, smelly." – Giles
BUFFY!
They loved books, on Buffy the Vampire Slayer. The writers were always dipping their quills into some old classic, and drawing from it inspiration for a storyline or character.
And that quote from Giles as supplied by Heather, sums up how many of us felt while watching the show; there's a little bit of Giles in all of us, those who love books. :)
Note: "Love: Penhaligon's scented treasury of verse and prose" - I have that little volume, hardbound, every page full-color plates boasting great English paintings of lovers and romance, gilded lettering on the spine, a box-case instead of a jacket; all the pages have been scented with Elizabethan Rose.
I've just opened it at random; behold the universe in all its playfully irony... smile...
"When you are old and grey and full of sleep,
And nodding by the fire, take down this book,
And slowly read, and dream of the soft look
Your eyes had once, and of their shadows deep..."
W B Yeats
@ Paul J. Marasa - "The happiest, sometimes most perilous, thing one can do with a beloved book is lend it out."
You've reminded me now of the last book I ever loaned out - and why I'll never loan another ever again to a non-artist! The works of James Tissot; painter. Purchased inside the Book shop at the Tate Gallery. Gone. He moved without telling me and with him, took my book. And I am not so kind, as to avoid wishing "karma" caught up him for it. For that jerk took a book about a painter from an artist an never returned it. Maybe there be a level of Dante's Hell just for YOU. :(
The Art Institute in Chicago has some of his drawings, meanwhile - including a girl reading a book in a hammock...
http://www.artic.edu/aic/collections/citi/images/standard/WebLarge/WebImg_000047/75051_320966.jpg
Tissot (a French painter who moved to England) is sometimes dismissed for being too Victorian Era chocolate box art, but I totally disagree. He's no more that than Charles Gibson was. The guy could DRAW! And you can see the skill of it underneath the paint.
"Young Lady in Boat"
http://megnorth.com/images/Young_Lady_in_a_Boat.jpg
Books are how I can take the brethren with me, wherever I go. I don't need the Internet or technology to feel close to them, when I've got them inside a book. Words convey ideas but so do pictures, too! :)
@ John - "I prefer the style and construction of older books. 1950's 60's and 70's. The style and quality are better, the typeface and font are more interesting and they seem to be better constructed."
The oldest book I own, is "The Gibson Book II" - published by Charles Scribner's Sons and copyrighted 1906. It's one 2 over-sized volumes with a red cloth cover featuring gilded decoration and lettering. It's features the work of the great American illustrator Charles Gibson. Drool!
Meanwhile, imagine being able to virtually walk around some of places written about in your favorite books? Imagine being able to look UP and see the sky above London on Oxford Street? Or snoop around a little, in Venice Italy.
Wouldn't that be wonderful? Oh, hey, it IS!
http://www.360cities.net/
Grin.
Thank you so much for this! I was just thinking the other day about all my books. I have very little shelf space, so many of them sit forgotten in boxes until they day I pull them out. There are many I've never read, some I have no intention of reading, but I can't part with them. Though I bought the fantastic 50th anniversary edition of Lord of the Rings, I still read the paperbacks I bought in fourth grade with the pages that are warped from when I dropped it in the bathtub. I still have my "Cat in the Hat Comes Back" (one of the greatest sequels ever written) that my little sister puked on during a thunderstorm. I work in a library, so I'm surrounded by good books and bad all the time. I read a lot, but only buy books I know will interest me or that are classics. I find I don't much like women authors, and don't like American writers as much as British ones (especially modern day; American writers of the 19th Century are a different thing entirely). I'm currently reading "The Third Policeman", which is great fun, and rabidly keep up with each volume of "The Complete Peanuts".
Mairin said: "I organize my bookshelves based on which writers I can imagine having the most interesting conversations."
-That is the cutest thing I've heard in a long time.
To those who posted about great books out of print, especially children's books, I second that! In college, a classmate introduced me to "Pickle-Chiffon Pie" by Jolly Roger Bradfield. It was then out of print. It finally was reissued a few years ago, and I bought a copy right away. I highly recommend it (Bradfield also used to do design work and cartoons for Sesame Street).
I will never ever ever ever ever own a kindle or any similar "e-book" reader. It may be all cool and "Star Trek"-y, but there's nothing like opening a book. I still use the worn Bible I got for Christmas when I was six. When I was told to clean my room, the part the took the longest was organizing the bookshelf. Yay, books!
Ever play that "desert island" game where you have to pick three books to take with you to a deserted island? My picks are (and this assumes the religious text of your choice is a given):
1. The Lord of the Rings
2. A Clockwork Orange
3. the Complete Calvin and Hobbes (which is sort of a cheat, since it's three big volumes in a box)
What would your picks be? Or if it's too hard, what might they be today?
Hello Roger, my name is Miguel Ramírez, and I´m from Mexico.
First, thank you for always share your thoughts with us.
I have a story of my life I want to share:
Talking about books, there is a providential moment in my life. One day when I was 15 (currently I'm 26), I saw a friend in the street. My friend (He is a priest, 70 years old) was carrying a large box filled with books. He told me he was going to throw away the box, in the garbage!! Oh no, I thought. I begged him to give me the box. Unfortunately he let me take 10 books only, but such wonderful authors I got from there: Mario Puzzo, Isaac Asimov, Stephen King, Jean M. Auel. I had never read a book of them. Currently, they are my favorite authors.
There are mysterious moments in life, get those books was like a miracle for me.
P.D. Sorry if I made a mistake in my writing, I'm still improving my English.
Greetings.
Ebert: It was so much better for him to find a home for them than throw them away.
Levar Burton started it all. I remember being in second grade when Reading Rainbow would come on. That theme song alone just made it so appealing to read; it made books sound like these amazing mystical things that would transport you to another dimension. I discovered dinosaurs through books, and how could any second grader resist dinosaurs? Later on Jerry Spinelli would really ignite my bromance with books with a book called Maniac Magee. But if any one person had the biggest influence on me, it was my dad. On weekends he would seen my sisters and I to the thrift store to find anything of value, and he always sent us to the book aisles to pick out what we wanted. I started my book collection with books by Michael Crichton, who gave us Jurassic Park - again with the dinosaurs!
But from Crichton on I discovered better authors and books that I thought I would never read. John Grisham kept me company in 8th grade; later I discovered Stephen King and then I found that dead authors wrote some of the best books in the universe - my favorites being Cervantes, Dostoyevsky, and Tolstoy. I began going on these thrift store raids myself and wandered the aisles of the many used book stores in my city looking for everything that stood out to me. I can easily drop 5 bucks for a stack of books as tall as a five year old. You know how some people will wait for a movie to come out on DVD? I wait for books to come out on Salvation Army.
I'm 25 years old now and basically live in a library, books just occupying as much shelf space on my entire wall and spilling onto the floor in stacks. To think that there are people who have collected even more books than I have just astounds me. I don't even think I will outlive the books that I've amassed throughout the years so I tend to be very picky about what I buy. I did the math - human beings on average have only hundreds of thousands of hours to live on this planet. I figure that to get my money's worth from the things that I purchase, I better enjoy them as much as I possibly can. I don't but a Playstation 3 because I have books in my room I haven't even opened yet, DVDs I've only seen twice, music I've listened to once. While I do play video games, I'll only play at a friend's house or online when I don't really feel like reading. But for me,actually investing in a gaming system would be pointless. Can you imagine the amount of time I would have to spend on a PS3, mastering all the video games available, to get my money's worth? Now, maybe if I lived a couple hundred years I might gives video games a shot. I think people have to pick and choose their interests; mine were pretty much chosen a long time ago.
Ebert: This is what I've been saying: Video games take uo too much time, and for what?
I just came across this by Harold Bloom:
"I am naïve enough to read incessantly because I cannot, on my own, get to know enough people profoundly enough."
A few weeks ago I grabbed a ruler, started measuring, and concluded that if I stacked all my books in one big pile, it would be more than 60 feet tall. I've purchased the majority of them in the past 10 years, which means that if I keep up at my present rate, that stack will be approximately 200 feet tall by the time I'm 50.
I'm okay with that.
I watched the footage of 50,000 Books and immediately thought of The Book Thing of Baltimore, which exists to find books a home. It's one of the few places I'm happy to let books go. Their press page includes a few pictures of the appropriately disheveled old location; a Baltimore blogger has pictures of the more user friendly new place. (The rubber bins on the floor are where the books for young children are shelved.)
Ebert: I need a place like that.
y Ali Arikan on October 6, 2009 3:43 PM
@S M Rana: I love Goethe
THanks for the encouragement, Ali.I've enjoyed his poetry specially as rendered into Schubert lieder and as sung by Marian Anderson( Erlkonig and Tod und Madchen).
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YDMdNXut8Yc
I have started to comment 3 different times and failed miserably, because you said everything I would have said.
Books, hardback, paperback, fat, thin, old, brand new, electronic and digital...they are a good part of what makes life worth living. One of the things I love most about books is finding things I haven't read, because people recommend them. The book is then tied to the person in my mind. The net is wonderful for that. BTW, which Collette. I have read one or two by her, but what do you recommend?
It's hard to decide whether reading something new or re-reading something I have read before is better...a book that is my friend can comfort me better than chicken soup.
p.s. there's something different about a library book than a book that one owns, but the U of Illinois Library is getting ready to add its 11 millionth book.
Yay books! Plenty is never enough, I always say, just as long as you don't end up setting booby traps against would-be-thieves, or you might end up like the Collyer brothers!
http://www.answers.com/topic/collyer-brothers
Ebert: Readers, this will strike you as decidedly odd, but I have decided to try out twittering.
http://twitter.com/ebertchicago
This is one winged creature which shall keep it's uropygium determinedly bivouacked here betwixt these principally hirsute chested raconteurs. This unfledged recalcitrant literary arriviste votary of yours, cannot be importuned to squeak, cheep, tweet or, chirrup at any venue but this, replete with sophisticates that are sumptuous paramours of elusory cinema and felicitously bereft of subfuscous antediluvian cerebra cudgeled by phthisis.
Your perfervidly sedulous,
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. Indian Idiot (H.W.) is presently afflicted with the contagious ailment SNIPPY-OSIS and shall expeditiously convalesce to resurrect Indian Idiot (H.W.)'s first person panegyric and in course of his affliction, for his artless unctuousness is soliciting remission from Snippy Clement LXXXIII.
Ebert: Man, am I glad a poster on this thread told me there's an iPhone app for the Shorter Oxford Dictionary.
I just finished 'The Man Who Loved Books Too Much' and then found this blog post via Twitter. I love connecting with others who share my obsession.
I sit at my basement computer, surrounded by 4 bookcases gorged with books. They are jammed in correctly, backwards, sideways, stacked and packed any which way to accommodate as many as possible. Three of the stairs leading down here have piles of books balanced precariously, but not so much that the dog has knocked them down (at least in the last few months.) In the living room and the sun room are piles of books, and there are always a few on the coffee table or end table; open and upside down, or with markers noting the farthest point read so far. (Those are the ones "in progress.") They are hiding in my wife's office, under the CD collection, on the kitchen counter, each pile growing with time until the hazards of gravity become too evident and they are moved. Somewhere. Somewhere new, usually.
I have a Kindle, and it's fine, but it is not the same. It's like eating a Dinty Moore beef stew when what you really want is something cooked for hours by Polish ladies on the South Side and served on ancient china for $3.89 in a hole-in-the-wall bistro that nobody knows about.
The big book megastores have never particularly interested me, but on an RV trip a few years ago we wandered into Powell's in Portland, OR, and I knew I was home. Never before, and never again have I felt the comfort of a building (several buildings, actually) full of books arranged the way they ought to be: new, old, used, barely hanging together (but out-of-print), all together and yet categorized by some method or madness, all beckoning me in.
We lasted only the one afternoon, because we were already behind on the trip, but I daresay if I lived in Portland my house would be neater because I would be at Powell's most days, and that would be enough.
Ebert: You want to be mindful when peeling vegetables toward where your thumb and index finger meet.
The loo (what do you call it) is the ideal place for serious reading, Gandhiji called it his library.
Reading in rickshaws is easy but underlining is difficult. Same goes for buses and cars specially in the hills. Trains are good.
One way is to divide the book into say six parts and carry one on your person. This works fine when you are stuck with a lousy job you can spend the minutes in the loo getting ahead some paras.
The stuff has to be on your person constantly, in your pocket, even fifteen pages, or two. And if you don't want to shred it, the photostat can be made. Life has many minutes.
Sometimes when nothing is possible one can memorise a sentence or two and chew it during lunch time.
The shoe repair man will stitch it back into one piece for about 10 cents.
And when you discard, everything needs to find a home. If its a book, best is to give it someone(lending is lousy, sends bad vibes generally), sell it or give to a used book shop. There does come a time when athing don't belong. Then it's the right garbage in the right can.Different books merit different treatment. The spark notes to the garbage man. And the beloved friends must be treated individually. My Faust will probably remain maybe even I do not read it.
But Roger reading a book while cutting vegetables( grin. Ebert has to do that too) seems an extreme gymnastic for the act of reading.
Ebert: Sometimes in my idle time I compose limericks. This one came up earlier this evening:
'Twas on a midnight dark and drear
That Death came for my father dear.
From his tree root collection
I made a selection
And built dad's old-fashioned root bier.
Hello Mr. Ebert,
Before I begin this entry, let me establish my credentials. I am an avid literary addict, bibliophile, reader or whatever you choose to call someone who loves to read. I am a proud patron of the Book Thing in Baltimore City; that fine institution which was mentioned above. I am a lover of Joseph Heller, Joseph Conrad, Marcus Aurelius, Stephen King, Sidahartaha Guatama, Alan Moore, Clive Barker, Shakespeare, ect. I love books, and will not hesitate to reccomend them to broaden one's horizons. I to have entirely too many books in my room. I love the fact that you are choosing to write a post about books, and I love you chose a quote by Erasmus, my favorite Theologian, to begin the post. However, I have noticed that once again you are using this forum to bash video games.
Mr. Ebert I know this may seem rude of me, but I'm going to do it anyway: I'm going to defend certain videogames because certain videogames can be just as rewarding as a good novel.
Mr. Ebert, video games do exist in this world that are more than just mindless exercises in blowing things up. There are video games that understand the value of a good story, that engage your mind, and create memorable characters that stick with you for years. The problem is most of the public chooses not to buy them.
For example the dialouge in "The Legacy of Kain" Games is heavily influenced Shakespeare, and those memorable characters converse frequently.
You will never find characters more memorable than the ones in "Final Fantasy VII" who have flaws, troubles, virtues, hopes and dreams. When tragedy strikes your heart goes out to them.
Few gritty pulp noir novels are more absorbing as "Vampires the Masaquerade: Bloodlines" where you are drawn down into a nether city of intrigue and twisting alliances. Then you have to get out alive.
Finally, no game is as challenging to the mind as "MYST" and it has a great story to boot.
The most notable feature of these and other games is that you play them to enjoy the story. Isn't that why we read novels? Isn't that why we go to the movies? To enjoy the story?
I respect your opinon Mr. Ebert, and I will repeat that I to have a passion for reading. But I am tired of you using your clout to bash what can be a thoughtful, engaging, thrilling medium.
I have no trouble at all when it comes to getting rid of books - my wife's books. I would post more but I do have my own pile of books optimistically waiting to be read - ta ta for now.
Dear Roger,
May I call you Roger? Did you know you've been my friend for over 30 years? Thought it was time I tell you. I so love this blog. Will you promise to write a supply of them that can be published after your death so those of us left behind never run out?
I made a vow to myself I wasn't going to purchase any new books until those on my coffee table had been read, never mind the oodles on the bookshelves. Good thing I didn't become a nun because the vow lasted about two weeks. Wally Lamb was in town (Portland, OR) and his newest is in paperback so what's a girl to do when it's staring her in the face on the bookstore table? And when in Ashland for the Shakespeare Festival, one HAS to add either a Shakespeare-related book or a history book about the 15th or 16th century to the collection, doesn't one? Please don't tell me to just stay out of bookstores. It's physically impossible. And you may think you have the perfect way to spend a rainy afternoon but if you haven't been to our beloved Powell's you don't know what heaven is.
And did I mention we are a great movie town? My movie list is almost as long as my book list...
Anyhoo, take care and thanks for the joy you bring with your thoughtful musings.
I have...an awful lot of books. I *think* it is somewhere in the vicinity of 5,000, but as I have never had enough shelf space to put them all out at once, I lose track. But I *have* found a use for a Kindle. I really can't stand reading anything more than a few pages long online, and there are so many wonderful (or potentially wonderful) books that are now available for download absolutely free! A quick look finds me such titles as
A History of Giggleswick School (1912) by Edward Allen Bell
Old English Patent Medicines in America (1959) by George B. Griffenhagen
Our Moslem Sisters (1907) by Annie Van Sommer
The Camera Fiend (1911) by E. W. Hornung
I know nothing about these titles, except they caught my eye. If they caught my eye in a used book store I would certainly take a look at them. But how can I pass up the chance to check them out? I'd rather curl up with a book than a Kindle, but a Kindle's easier to curl up with than a laptop!
Your thoughts from those days past, ("What do I really need that isn't here in this room,") describe the perfect place of solitude. Simplicity allows us to think introspectively, and books are the guides to our deepest emotions. They are a powerful combination.
It's rare that a movie will make me feel as introspective as a book might. Certainly some do. I just watched "Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter... and Spring" (on your "Great" recommendation) by myself on a quiet and lonely day, and it achieved that same level of deep and quiet understanding. Another is "Only Yesterday" (good luck finding a copy in the US). But these are rare cases.
One obvious reason for this is that books have the time to work into the minds of their readers. But storytelling in movies also tend to favor the delve into group-consciousness; tending to be more social than personal. Movies have always been an activity wherein families, friends or co-workers share experiences. Movies work in analogous ways to books; just on a larger scale.
But there really is nothing like a small room, a rainy day, you by yourself, and a book of choice to teach you something you never knew about yourself. That is really special.
Video games do take up quite a bit of time, and often that time could be better spent. (I've often thought the same about bestselling potboilers.) That doesn't mean the experience is intrinsically bankrupt; I refuse to accept that it may or may not entertain and disproportionately hone certain basic cognitive functions and nothing more. Some developers take great pains to create simple, thought-provoking interactive stories, and when you find one, they are well worth the time. Two recent examples are Braid and The Path. Unfortunately, these are rarely games released by major developers/publishers, and generally escape the notice they deserve.
Since I moved to Boston a month ago, I've found two indie bookstores within easy traveling distance that shame Borders and B&N, and I'm already out of shelf space. In college, I visited the office of a professor whose shelves couldn't accommodate the hundreds of books she was forced to stack in enormous towers around the room. "These are just the ones I've brought to work," she said.
Roger, have you read this essay by Sergio Cicconi regarding hypertextual narratives? Its conclusions are illuminating.
Oh Roger, such wonderful words you write. Just today I had a long discussion with a much younger man about books we had read and loved. I can't think of a better way to get to know someone else.
Do you remember the episode of "The Twilight Zone" about the man who just wanted to read? His wife never let him have the time. Then someone dropped "the bomb" and he was the only person left alive. And he found a library! Heaven! But then he drops his glasses and steps on them. He's too blind to read without them. That was the saddest story I had ever seen. Now that's me. I'm only in my mid-fifties, but I've had 6 operations on my eyes. One is useless and the other not much better. BUT now my library has recorded books! I've listed to "The Kite Runner", read by the author!, "Pride and Prejudice", "Jane Eyre", "The Bone-setter's Daughter", also read by the author, and many more. A new kind of heaven!
Roger,
Thank you for your comments about books. This entry was simultaneously funny and nostalgic. I love your argument that you just can't throw these books away. It's obvious you have a fantastic passion for widely varying types of knowledge and this seems to be something that is rare in today's society. I love to hear someone excited telling me about their favorite books. It says so much about their personality, their ambitions, their passions, their intellect. Thanks for filling me in.
Arlo
Roger,
Thanks again for another beautiful entry. Walter Benjamin has a poignant little essay on book collecting, "Unpacking My Library", that you should read if you haven't already. Search your floors, I'm willing to bet you've got a copy of Illuminations somewhere.
I had a similar experience while studying abroad in Japan. Seeking a respite from a language I was still frustratingly unfamiliar with, I started reading heavily. While limited to the selection of English works available at my local bookstore in Osaka, the novels I read will be forever linked in my mind to that wild year. Huck Finn, On The Road, 1984, a couple Nick Hornby novels, David Sedaris essays, among others.
Checking in to that mournful flight home, my bags were too heavy thanks to my miniature library. Instead of giving them up, I took out both my winter coats and wore them on the plane. In August.
Regarding video games as art:
Per Wikipedia, art is the "process or product of deliberately arranging elements in a way that appeals to the senses or emotions"; I agree with definition--or, I don't disagree with it: a narrower definition would be too exclusive, and a broader definition would be too inclusive, or simply nonsensical: "art is art".
Consider this literary example:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Choose_Your_Own_Adventure
Art, yes? Or does allowing a viewer to influence the final product bar that final product from being art?
If you ascribe to the latter view, video games cannot be considered art; however, if you ascribe to the former view, what bars a video game from being art?
Perhaps it is the programming process: arranging mathematics and coding; but how is this different than creating a novel? Mathematics requires a logical sequence to produce a logical output; writing is the same: if you want to say the sky is blue, you cannot say, The sky is red. Code functions the same way: a logical output requires a logical sequence; the languages are different, but the process is the same.
Consider CGI: a similar programming process is used, yet the resulting imagery [even poorly-rendered imagery, such as the CGI in Tron] is considered art; ergo, realism is not required, as the available technology limits the imagery: Transformers is more "realistic" than Tron, but which is better art?
It seems that the only remaining position opposing video games as art is, Allowing a viewer to influence the final product bars that final product from being art; to someone who has played many video games, and had as many emotional responses, this position seems illogical. Remember: dreck isn't necessarily representative of an entire genre; I don't consider Transformers or G.I. Joe indicative of all movies, so please don't consider mindless video games indicative of all video games. Now, let's get back to discussing books:
Welcome, Brother! Welcome! A man, his cave, his bowl and spoon, and his books to fire his imagination.
My father lived like that when we moved to a Victorian house where eventually I counted five bathrooms. We called him "Our Father, who art in the study."
I've since met many men of the same simplicity, yet must-have this and the other too. I understood each one of them. In 1997 I buried a soldering gun that I'd bought for five bucks at a Western Auto store thirty years before. I couldn't toss a thing in the trash that had been a trusty friend since I was sixteen, plastic handle long held together with duct tape. I teared up a little shoveling the last scoop of dirt over it.
I once babysat a man's 25 cats while he took a trip. They all curled up in the little office and bathroom that was his home, opening up to a wide spacious workshop that included a fireplace Beowulf would have demanded. The cats slept top of him on his cot, so I learned at bedtime.
Then there was Bill, a bus-stop friend who got around on a crutch. Bill can still be found at Ronstadt Station in downtown Tucson awaiting the Number 3 on a given afternoon. Middle aged grey, clean cut, always neatly dressed, highly articulate, cheerful, a book-and-paper laden briefcase. I always assumed he was a prof at the University where he'd also often catch the bus.
Then one day I met Bill while he was on a drunk. He told me that he'd been living in a tent at the edge of the desert for years now. He did used to be a teacher, had a Doctorate in English and a job working for a government program teaching illiterate kids in Guatemala.
Bill got so disgusted with the politics and bureaucracy, and yearned so for what we presume is the squalor of the uncivilized, that he quit the whole thing, returned to Tucson and decided to live in a tent in the desert. He'd come into town only for more books and to sell his blood for a good drunk every so often. Otherwise he got along with no money.
I thought long and hard. No, I guess I wouldn't sell my blood. Yet one who appreciates great literature and will not live as Bill does risks a troubled soul. I'll babysit Chaz for you if Bill's story tugs at yours too much too, Rodge. She couldn't be any harder to deal with than 25 cats in the same little room.
Books. Not only can they furnish a life, but they can change its direction, shape it, improve it, and define much of it. I am by nature a restless, busy, impatient, tense and probably arrogant soul. Give me a cup of tea - iced or hot - a dog at my feet, and a good book by anyone and about anything and I am the sea calmed. You can have the television. I would grudgingly surrender the computer. I would more grudgingly give up the radio (not happily would I forego the White Sox or NPR, odd bedfellows they may seem). Books? Leave me my books. Leave me the conversations that almost ring true but are just a little better executed than most live discussions. Leave me the word pictures of landscapes I may never see. Let me keep the wind and the wave and the howl I feel and see and hear only in my mind. Let me wander through the ages and to places I cannot go. I love books. Fiction. Non-fiction. Graphic novels. Books of cartography. Photography. Geography. Theology. I believe - I really do believe - that I have read books I did not like, but I have never read a book I did not enjoy reading.
Kevin Coombs
I keep my books because the one I love may be edited beyond my comprehension for any version I might be able to afford, and I've noticed that small calfskin collections of stories are not for sale in Border's anymore.Treasure Island lost to commercial cuteness, Nostromos by Conrad no longer politically correct, are some examples of what I'm afraid will become long lost if I pass them on. I am willing to lose or donate all LombsangRampa's books and the entire Lensmen series given away long ago. My Barefoot Doctor reference book falls apart and must go, but the entire collection of Jack Vance or my Archy and Mehitabel books I'll always keep. I do have the first book I ever bought,Pride and Prejudice when I was an advanced 4th grader. My daughter tells me when I die she will burn it all or give it away.I recently bought The Complete Dorothy Parker which may help me resign myself to this.
One of my prized possessions is a copy of Roger Ebert's Book of Film, kindly autographed by the author.
Thank you Roger.
Books can be bossy, and nagging: "Why haven't you read me yet? You bought me three years ago!" Or, "You're not smart enough to finish me!" So I keep a the handful of friendly ones near my bed, and consign the rest to the basement, which has a riot of floor-to-ceiling books.
Thank you so much for putting into words the magic of books in such an articulate and entertaining manner. I’d often been at a loss to explain why I did not want to get rid of old books, it just didn’t feel right – much the same as throwing away a photograph does not feel right – even one which is going to sit in an old album and gather dust.
As someone with an almost overriding passion for history, books provide a wonderful opportunity – the opportunity to hear the words of Homer, to learn at the feet of Herodotus, to listen to the words of long dead Poets and Generals, Kings and Adventurers. No other ‘medium’ can allow you to travel to the South Pole with Shackelton, to ride with the hussars of Colonel Marbot, to listen to the words of Cicero, to the ideas of Rousseau, Voltaire and Marx, and a myriad of other experiences as many and as varied as the stars. And that’s not even touching fiction! Comparatively, computer games really do pale into insignificance. Why waste time with them when there are a thousand lifetimes worth of books to be read!
Speaking of fiction, I must thank you for introducing me to the wonderful world that is the work of PG Wodehouse. After reading a mention of his work in one of your reviews, I picked up a cheap copy of Life at Blandings, and he has since become one of my favourite authors. Wodehouse has also in a roundabout way led me more recently into the novels of Stephen Fry, which I’m devouring at a great rate of knots.
As a fellow owner of both an Icelandic saga (Njal’s I believe) and Winston Churchill’s Second World War – along with a gargantuan pile of others - I’m sure there will be a day that I’ll feel just like reading them.
Thanks again Roger for such a wonderful article.
Thanks for posting, Mr. Ebert. But all this does is remind me of how much I need/want to read, and how little time there is in this life. How completely paralyzing.
But thanks just the same!
Hi again Roger,
Even though, like most people, I have no room to store any more than a cursory number of books I have still managed to snag and hold on to some of the ones you mentioned as well as some others mentioned within the responses.
However there is one book that has been something of an Albatross around my neck for years. No matter what I do I cannot bring myself to throw, or give it, away. It has missing pages taken by friends at random times over the last (almost) 40 years as well as notes and scribbles and taped on cover. It has been used to cover a hole in an old cane chair and as as a prop when necessary. It probably has experienced more caresses from the gluteus maximuses of visiting friends than any other book in existence. It weighs enough and is of a size that when you want to take the curl out of a piece of paper you can use it as the first book underneath all of the other books. It has a wealth of information included and sometimes when you least expect it to, it comes in very, very handy. I have moved with it many times and one time it didn't even get unpacked for at least 10 years. When I eventually opened up that particular box I found all my Tom Swift, Tom Swift Jr. and Hardy Boys underneath it.
I am speaking of course of "The Whole Earth Catalog" published by Stewart Brand. A friend of mine gave me my copy for my 21st birthday. At the time I guess I was living kind of a counterculture existence and the catalog was kind of a right of passage. If you owned one and had it out where others could see it when they came over to get a buzz it invariably became a topic of conversation. Everybody loved it and if you were high enough every single thing it contained seemed as relevant as sunshine in summer and just about as fun.
Here's hoping that yours is somewhere close at hand.
John
PS: They may not be everyone's idea of classic literature but I still have my "Furry Freak Brothers" collection.
Thanks for this post!
I'm starting to become a bit of a bibliophile/book collector, and this was encouraging! My collection only amounts to about 300 at this time, but hey, you have to start somewhere... :)
It was enjoyable to see someone else who enjoys books for the same reasons (both reading them and well...having them). The section about Chaz commenting about how many of them will remain unread by you was classic and made me laugh. You see, my wife is already saying the same to me in regards to my small collection....
Favorite memory as a child: Robinson Crusoe. By far it brings back the strongest emotional response when I recall the joy it brought upon first read. This would have been somewhere around 11-12.
As an adult, Tolkien moves me more than anyone, though Richard Russo is a modern favorite. C.S. Lewis was gifted beyond belief. Patrick O'Brian's Aubrey/Maturin novels are amazing. Dostoevsky shouldn't be missed. And the list goes on...
I hope to teach myself Latin and Greek when I finish graduate school in order to read so many great texts in their original language. You've inspired me to not give up on that goal.
Anyway, I'm rambling. Thanks for the inspiring post!
I own about 1,100 books (well, 1130 if you want an exact figure. Yes, I have a spreadsheet with all the details of my books). I've been spending too much on books for a very long time, and of course every now and again I read them.
I'm lucky enough that in Brisbane, Australia, we have a 6-monthly Lifeline Bookfest, which is a massive charity based second hand book sale. The good Lifeline people hire out the Brisbane Convention Centre, which is absolutely massive, and then they fill hundreds of long rectangular tables with books sorted into quality, then category. Books in the mid-price section (code for books that have been read, have slightly yellowed pages, but are otherwise absolutely fine) range between $1.50 and $3.50 AUD in price, with most hovering between $2.50 and $3.
Each Bookfest, my brother and I take a shopping trolley and fill it with books. He loves philosophy and I love literature, so we are able to pillage our own areas without worrying that the other might pick up an absolute gem. What makes things even nicer about the Bookfest is that on the last day they do 'fill a bag for $5', which should be pretty self-explanatory. If you smile and wink you can overfill the bags, too. At any rate, last Bookfest I purchased 174 books for about $320, which really is simply amazing.
I do love reading. Very much. I review books on my website, which is linked through my name, but there are tens and tens of books I read without reviewing as well. A book is the friend you have with you always, even when you are with other friends and especially when you are not.
I have a room devoted to my books. My system is that when I have read a book, it goes on my bookshelf. Otherwise I keep them stacked in piles about a metre tall on the floor. I have five full shelves, and maybe twelve stacks of books. I have been trying for years to decrease the height and amount of my stacks, but I always seem to buy enough new books that I never really get anywhere.
The 50,000 books Youtube video was interesting. There is a second-hand bookstore in Brisbane that boasts over a million books. I expect some of that figure is taken up with hyperbole, but the store is absolutely massive and I'd put it to 150,000 at least. It's absolutely amazing to see.
This Thursday is Nobel Prize day, which makes it a very special time for booklovers. I hope Stoppard, or Llosa, or Mulisch, or Antunes wins, but I'm generally pretty happy with the Academy's choices. We shall see.
When I was a little boy, my parents used to take me out to eat to K&W Cafeteria for some fine suburban dining. Afterwards, we would go to the Books A Million across the street. It never failed that when we walked into the store, the smell of thousands of books would propel my stomach instantly towards the bathroom in the back. The literary laxative is the best one on the market! To this day, as a 21 year old college English major, I still walk into that Books A Million and rush towards the bathroom.
You have posted a fine entry on the romance of reading, which allures us to those quiet nooks in the library, to those dazzling conversations we have with practical strangers, to the coffee-stained pages of books we hold on to simply because they are there in front of us, to the feel of the book spine resting in our hands, and to the quiet nights where our chins descend upon our chests as we fall into a dreamful sleep.
I'm a college senior, Roger, currently trying to tackle and balance Iris Murdoch's A Severed Head, George Eliot's Middlemarch, Shakespeare's Coriolanus, and an American Film genres course. It's the most demanding semester of my life, but an absolute joy and pleasure. Every day is a discovery. Your blog has inspired me to keep flipping the pages. I walk around with my highlighter in my hand, and quotations floating around in my brain.
Ebert: Readers, this will strike you as decidedly odd, but I have decided to try out twittering.
I joined twitter this week, too. I feel like a sellout. I was vehemently opposed to it for the longest time. I just didn't understand. 140 characters to say what? That I'm eating dinner or am at a baseball game or am watching a movie? And now that I've joined, I still don't get it. We'll see how it goes. What are your thoughts on twitter?
First, a nitpicking little correction: Rodinsky's Room was co-authored by Rachel Lichtenstein and Iain Sinclair. Like just about everything Sinclair is involved with, it's well worth reading, as is the fictionalized version of the Rodinsky story that appears in Sinclair's novel Downriver.
I also have about 4000 books in my home. Most of them are shelved, but some are stacked in freestanding 4 foot-high towers. (Fortunately I live in Ohio, where earthquakes are rare.) My living quarters aren't quite as book-dominated as the rooms of the eponymous lover in Greenaway's The Cook, The Thief, His Wife and Her Lover, but they are getting there. I too still remember where I bought just about every book I own: the volume of John Ashbery's poetry that I purchased from George Whitman in Paris; the first American edition of Nabokov's Laughter in the Dark (the author's name is spelled 'Nabokoff' on the spine) that I picked up for fifty cents at a charity book sale in Cleveland; the copy of Salman Rushdie's The Ground Beneath Her Feet that the author signed for me at a bookstore in San Francisco; the Bantam paperback of A Tale of Two Cities that I bought when I was 12...Because every book I buy is purchased with the intention of being read (I'm a reader as opposed to a collector), a search of my bookshelves is like an archaeological dig into my mind.
Resting atop a nearby book tower as I type this is my copy of Mario Vargas Llosa's The Perpetual Orgy. The book's epigraph, from Flaubert, fits the subject of this blog: "The one way of tolerating existence is to lose oneself in literature as in a perpetual orgy." Perhaps we should all aspire to be perpetual orgiasts.
Ebert: Rodinsky repaired.
Flaubert is right as he so often is.
Ahh, the written word. My first, and only constant, true love. With a book, I am sometimes a Casanova, a St. Francis, a Stranger in a Strange Land, a weary traveler, a wide-eyed optimist, a hopeless cynic, a masochist, a belly-laugher, a faster, a Cookie Monster. I have a book for breaks at work, one for the car, one for the house, a stack on the toilet tank... Hell, I've been known to take one into the movie theater, so I don't have to watch the damn commercials that play before the lights go down for the coming attractions.
I think you would like my acquaintance, Steve Ross, whose organization has libraries in Sedona, AZ; Los Angeles, CA; and Munich, Germany. Each of these libraries is filled with books about healing modalities from around the world. Some are just a few years old, and others are closer to 1,000 years. One of the greatest thrills of my relatively short life was when he first showed me his Sedona library, and handed me a >300-year-old book about medicine. "This is the oldest one here," he told me. "I've got better ones in Germany."
I recommend Larry McMurtry's Walter Benjamin and the Dairy Queen. My neighbor to the two hours south also has affectionate words for his book collection. Benjamin said something about the importance of the "aura of books." When writing or studying in such an atmosphere it's like your putting your missives into that vast community....
Good stuff, Roger.
Danny M, 24, OKC,OK
I helped two students navigate their way through a university library today. I'm not employed there but I quickly say that they didn't understand how a library works. They dewey decimal system made no sense to them. As for my own collection of books, I admit, it's not extensive but what it contains fills me with joy: a first edition of Heinrich Zimmer's Art of Indian Asia, a now complete collection of the (never finished) Historical Atlas of World Mythology by Joseph Campbell, Adventures of the Mind (selections from the Saturday Evening Post), and a small, leather-bound, red letter edition King James Bible, to name a few.
Of course, there are books I will never get rid of and will always replace if I should lose them somehow. These include Edith Hamilton's Mythology, a book I've loved since I was a boy, Man and His Symbols by Jung et al, a book I've loved since I was a teen, Sometimes a great Notion, Edgar Allen Poe: the Complete Stories, and Kon Tiki by Thor Heyerdahl.
Ebert: "It is clear from these comments that a great many readers value Stephen King."
King's book On Writing shares desk space with my two hard cover dictionaries, an AP Stylebook and, of course my Fowler's and The Elements of Style. I guess I read a lot of non-fiction. As a student, I rarely sell back books I've purchased for school unless they're those texts designed specifically for undergrad survey courses (even those I often keep because they serve as excellent reference books. Those are the ones that begin with the author saying things like "I wrote this introduction to Anthropology because I really love Anthropology and I want you to love it, too." But, if I need a name, an idea of who's who, or a quick definition of a term, those are what I turn to.
~Mike
I have maybe a quarter of the books I had last year. Why? Well, I'm in Amazon Vine (an exclusive readers club, as I like to brag to anyone who will sit still for more than three seconds), and they sent me a Kindle. I hate to use this phrase in relation to a device, but it's (sigh) changed my life. *wince*
I've gotten so accustomed to reading on the Kindle that I've found it hard to go back and read regular books (though I just finished Jehan Sadat's My Hope for Peace, an exceptional read). Why bother with "real" books when I have my Kindle?
Also, frankly, I've got limited shelf-space and having books in digital form means that I could free up my shelves for my ever-expanding DVD collection (566 titles and rising weekly). So I began converting my books onto the Kindle and took the ones I now had both in book and digital form and gave the book copies to a friend of mine who works at a used book store. At least they'll go onto other people who will love them.
That said, much as I love my Kindle, there's certain books that I'll keep forever. My complete works of Shakespeare comes to mind, as does Pratchett's The Last Hero as its illustrations won't transition well. And, yes, I still have my hardcover copy of Awake in the Dark, and plan to hold onto it. Hey, if I come to Chicago, can I get it signed? ;)
I love reading, but I've come to the conclusion lately that it's the content, and not the medium, that matters most to me.
Roger,
I've been out of touch with the world of books and reading unfortunately for quite some time. I was hoping you could direct me to a list of great novels to read and engulf myself in. If you could, avoid high school required readings because, well, I've read them. I really have a desire and a need to enrich my life with novels, and not just intelligent TV and film. A man of your reading could certainly enlighten me to some fascinating reads. Thanks a bunch.
Ebert: Start with Fine Balance y Rohinton Mistry.
"Chaz observes that I haven't read many of them and I never will. You just never know."
That reminds me- in your 2006 review of 'Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story', you claimed that you had started reading Sterne's novel in 1965 and that you "intend to finish it any day now". Ever gonna make good on that promise?
Ebert: I keep procrastinating. :)
I love books. I've lined up my entire room with books. Stacks and stacks of them. When I was growing up, my library would have a used book sale every Saturday and I would go every Saturday for years and years. The number of books grew and I read many and many of them. This year, I finally decided to donate some of them back. I hope some kids will enjoy them like I have. Books (and movies) are truely the closest thing we have to magic.
That reminds me- in your 2006 review of 'Tristam Shandy: A Cock and Bull Story', you wrote that you started Sterne's novel in 1965 and that you "intend to finish it any day now". Ever gonna make good on that promise?
Ebert: I keep procrastinating. :)
Prince Modupe, of Africa, from his book 'I Was A Savage'
My own used book store of choice is Red River Books. It's downtown, in an old building surrounded by other old buildings and a couple of coffee shops, a little park and a film school. You take three stone steps and there's the big wooden door with it's old brass doorknob. There is no landing, they didn't seem to make them back then. It's just three steps and a door. You have to give the latch a good hard squeeze and a forceful push. This must be done simultaneously. Once inside you will be in a very large room with high ceilings and ancient floorboards, which will creak and groan with every step as you weave your way along. And weave you must, for the path is laid out for you with snowbanks of books marking the way. Some piled knee high in wobbly stacks that look like upside down pyramids. It seems the majority of the books are stored this way. The rest are in bookshelves which tower over you. On occasion you will meet a fellow browser coming from the other direction, at which point, one of you will be forced to retreat. Or, if you happen to be greeted with a pleasant smile from a pretty girl, you could attempt the more intimate half-turn pass, but mind the pyramids.
Obscure music will be softly playing, ranging from a melody of kabuki drums and gregorian chants to haunting ballads played on a didgeridoo. Behind the counter there will be a man that looks like Sam Elliot in Roadhouse, only you'd have to add about 20 years and make him deaf. When his wife asks him a question she will do it two notches below the top of her lungs, to which he will reply....'what?'....which will raise her question another notch. I'm not sure if this system is a requirement of his deafness or it's cause. Be that as it is, it's best not to attempt questions with the husband, direct them at the wife.
Milk crates are scattered about to help you reach the higher shelves, but just as often you'll see people sitting on them as they pour over some old yellowing book. It's best to find four or five books before finding a milk crate, lest you be forced to give up your seat prematurely. The price of the book will be written in faded pencil in the top right corner of the first page. Three or four dollars is the norm, but some go as high as thirty. Old hard cover books of particular value can be even more, but sometimes you'll see the old prices rubbed away and the new one written overtop. All prices are negotiable, but most people don't bother. You can bring an armful of books to the counter, and after it's all added up, pay no more than twenty bucks for a pretty good haul. It's preferred that you bring your own bag to carry them away.
I have a few cherished books. The Lord of the Rings has already been mentioned and I'll add my name to that list. My old copy of The Fellowship is literally rounded at the corners with a good hunk of masking tape along it's spine as a reinforcement. Opposite the spine on the page side is a dark streak, where my ink stained thumb has left it's mark. The cover is worn and cracked. It's a good ol' lived in book with history, all of it mine, because it was new when I bought it. I have other cherished books in my bookcase, but most of them are in boxes. When I moved, people always grumbled and groaned if they got a bookbox to carry. I have other books scattered around, most of them half-read. It's rare that a book gets read cover to cover without an interruption...by another book. I usually hop around and finish them in fits and starts. There are three of them on my nightstand right now, two more in front of me on the coffee table. Now-a-days they are mostly reference books. My coffee table books are Evolution vs Creationism by Eugenie Scott (for the Darwin threads) and Understanding Media by Marshall McLuhan, from which the top quote was discovered. McLuhan says that the written word gave rise to the independent man as opposed to the tribal man. The independent man is capable of an informed and personal point of view, where as the tribal man marches to the beat of the tribal drum. He goes on to say that "the printed word with it's specialist intensity broke the bonds of medieval guilds and monasteries, creating extreme individualist patterns of enterprise and monopoly". In his prediction of the internet he is known to have described it's effect as regressing man backward to a tribal nature..."the human family now exists under conditions of a 'global village'. We live in a single constricted space resonant with tribal drums." And so it goes, Roger strikes the drum, and we resonate our response...boom boom boom. A response which is impossible in a book format where all our reactions are internal. That I think is why we love them. OH, another book on the coffee table, Running Away to Sea - Round the world on a tramp freighter by George Fetherling. Just to keep things light.
I found the Shorter Oxford English Dictionary as an app for the iPhone. It's pricey as far as iPhone apps, but much less costly than the paperback edition. I'm delighted with it, all 600,000 words. (I love my I Ching app as well, BTW.)
The free Kindle app for the iPhone is, by the way, a better electronic reader than the Kindle. The reason: it's backlit, whereas the Kindle relies on reflected light. So far the contrast on the Kindle is no good (at least for my eyes). All in all, despite two attempts to love the Kindle, I never good work up much passion for it.
A final question: didn't you once say that you like long books? Seems like I read that in one of your columns, along with a recommendation for a book that sounded really interesting. The best I can recall is that it was "The Quincunx," which I stand ready to buy based on your recommendation.
Off to see what you're up to on Twitter. I've had great fun with it -- there's a whole world of good people trading good ideas, links, and info on Twitter. Wish it didn't have such a stupid name, though!
Thanks as always for the blog.....
Ebert: Yes, The Quincunx.
The title describes the plot:
"n. An arrangement of five objects with one at each corner of a rectangle or square and one at the center."
About video games, I personally think they are like movies; some are art, some are insulting to the idea of art. Games can be art, or for socializing/competing, or both.
"Allowing a viewer to influence the final product bars that final product from being art". Doesn't all art depend on individual interpretation that comes from the person's own experiences? Only more often it is in a more passive role. In video games, it is a more involving experience. And it is still constructed in a very particular way for you to play through and experience it.
Art is supposed to make you feel something, isn't it? Besides boredom. I've played plenty of games that have made me feel more than a lot of movies I've seen or books I've read. The death of a character you talked to or played as can affect you more than one you only read about or saw on screen. You feel their absence even more.
But it doesn't surprise me that many oppose the idea of video games as art. They said that about comics until Moore and Gaiman came around. And look at television. I'd hardly consider Deal or No Deal or Big Brother to be art, but Battlestar Galactica and The Shield, absolutely I would.
And with regards to Ebert's opinion, and I don't mean this in a condescending way, I really don't think he is informed enough or had enough experience with them like he has with film and literature. But I'm not setting out to change his mind. If he has no interest in them, that's fine. If he were campaigning to have them banned or something like that, then it would be a different story.
As a final question, how can something that requires the arts in order to be made not be art once it is finished? It's a serious question. Maybe somebody can think of something I can't.
For the book topic, I recommend Frankenstein to anybody who hasn't read it. Or Crime and Punishment.
I don't know how many books we have, although I once calculated that we have about 800 linear feet of bookshelves, mostly doubled-up and stuffed to the gills. And this in a 1,200 sq.ft. house.
I'm convinced this is the main reason why we haven't moved in 15 years.
We are actually due for a book cull, which we achieve by taking any books we have no interest in reading again to a wonderful place in town called 'Recycled Reading'. They'll give you 1/4 of the jacket price for any book you bring in as store credit, which you can then use to buy used books there for 1/2 the jacket price. I've bought most of my Steinbeck collection there.
(seriously - who the hell throws out books?!)
Our most valued books: my four volume set of Joseph Campbell's 'Historical Atlas of World Mythology', and my husband's signed 1st edition Penguin paperback of 'A Clockwork Orange'. Oh, and my 'Illustrated Compendium of Children's Literature', which I've literally had since I was a child.
BTW, my husband appreciates your taste in luncheons. Surprised you didn't mention Branston Pickle, though. And Hob Nobs? Those are Chocolate Digestives, thank you very much.
One further thought before bed: I don't read nearly enough ever since I quit smoking. That was my thing - have a smoke on the front porch and read. Ten minutes a cigarette, a cigarette every hour or two, it adds up.
These days, I do most of my reading either at the laundromat or in the tub with my morning coffee. I feel like I've been reading John Ralston Saul's 'Voltaire's Bastards' for a year.
Finally in this age of e-books and reading devices and text to speech machines somebody has written on books (both paperback and hardbound). I wonder how these machines can ever replace the smell of print on paper or the smell of a used and leafed through book from a shelf.
Luckily both my wife and I share a fetish for books. But your collection is something to die for!!!
What compares to a page's perfume: dust and ash; a forgotten candle's fragrance; perhaps a distant dinner's aroma soaked into the page; or maybe an earthen scent still lingers from the page's oaken origin. Yes, the text, always the text, but the smell of a book can be equally intoxicating to the bibliophile; it tells a secondary story.
A novel sold in a seaside store will tell a different secondary story than the same novel sold in a bucolic bookshop: the salt-soaked pages might contain some chantey; the countryside's pages might smell of wintertime firesides, or languorous summer nights.
The secondary story can only be told so often: open the book, smell the pages, and the perfume is polluted by the surrounding aromas. But bury the book under other unread books--let it be forgotten while other books are read; and then, after it has fermented, open it again: a whole new story of smells has written itself.
Ebert: By you? Or who?
Roger,
I'm currently in a tough situation that seems strangely relevant to this blog post. I'm moving from a large two-bedroom apartment in Central Illinois (Monticello) to a decent one bedroom apartment in New York City. I'm paying over three times the rent, too, but that's beside the point. I'll be living with my dog and my girlfriend, and that's necessitated a severe minimization of my possessions.
I have quite a few books - at least a thousand, best guess would be more like fifteen hundred. I hear that having more than a few books is rare for New York due to the space issues. So which books do I cull from my collection (temporarily, mind you - I'll be leaving the extras in my mom's garage. We'll see what law school I end up attending next fall, as that will determine my next move). Do I bring BOTH copies of A Prayer for Owen Meany? What if I need to loan one out? Do I bring the books that I've read and know I love, or the ones that I have yet to read? A mixture, maybe? What if I REALLY want to read that old Dick Francis novel? What about my Time Life WWII set? I remember reading that collection at my grandparents' house before I inherited them. It brings back a lot of nostalgia.
And the Great Books and Great Ideas collections - I couldn't possibly leave those! And then there's the new books I've bought recently and haven't gotten to yet. And that copy of Lincoln's speech at Cooper Union. Wow, I loved that one! And the cooking books - like Tom Colicchio's Think Like a Chef! I couldn't possibly move to New York, food capital of the world, without thinking like a chef, right? Oh, and the CHILDREN'S books! God, how I love those! I mean, sure, I don't have any kids, nor do I know any in New York, but there was that Children's Lit class I took at the U of I... WHAT AM I GOING TO DO??? Maybe I could leave the giant hardback of The Rime of the Ancient Mariner, but what if...?
Ebert: Obviously, have a heart-to-heart with your girlfriend, stay in Monticello and enroll at the U of I College of Law.
"I decided to twitter"
I don't see no pretty pretty birdie on this page. Please don't get martyred, Roger, we want you around for a long, long time. There's lots of fun to be extracted, the best, really ,if you ask my opinion. BTW anyone suggesting you cant talk politics is like only critics can discuss movies.
While growing up my house was always covered in books. My mom was an avid reader and I was the only kid to actually inherit the bibliogene. My problem is I'm also somewhat of a wanderer. I never stay in any place to long and hauling bookshelves of books becomes tedious.
On my last move I finally gave up and bought a Kindle. Its been one year since this blasphemous purchase and I admit I still have mixed feelings. The reading is easy on the eyes and the ability to purchase and read on a whim is wonderful. Its when I put my Kindle down that I actually feel a little upset. That particular book won't decorate my nightstand, laundry basket or find its way to the top of my refrigerator. I won't find it a year from now in a foldout chair and be temporarily reminded of the good times we had together and I won't hear my friends rib me about my book collection the next time they help me move. Books are an organic part of my everyday life and the Kindle is simply a sterile replacement.
When I finally do plant some roots I fully intend to find a nice little local book-nook and take a diving leap off the wagon. Until then sterile and portable will have to do.
"One woman whose youthful attitude greatly impressed me was the American painter known as "Grandma Moses." She had produced around fifteen hundred paintings by her death at the age of one hundred and one. Yet she didn't even start painting until she was seventy-five. She had never studied painting and was an ordinary farmer's wife until then."
Daisaku Ikeda
I am trying to decide if you are a good influence or a bad one.
I have been collecting books since high school; it has really taken off in the last 20 years. My husband encourages this habit or sickness; some would prefer to call it. During our marriage he was in the military and we would travel the country with our kids, dog and books. I always dreaded moving; the movers would come in and look at the books, sigh and ask various questions. "Are you a lawyer?" "Why do you have all these books?" "You don't really read these?" Somehow their pay and the meals we would buy for them was never enough for them to move all "those books." I would get the same reactions from people who would come into our house for the first time. Once in a great while, we would get a book lover. They walk in and their eyes light up. They start scanning the titles, touching the spines and soon they are pulling books down to curl up on the couch with. This just happens to be my favorite spot.
I love that you mention your film books. My two favorite things are watching old movies and books, so it would make sense that I love film books. I love reading everything but reading a film book is like eating candy for me, taste great, not really good for you but a true pleasure. The Men Who Made the Movies, Star Power, Sin in Soft Focus, Complicated Women, Dangerous Men, The Great Movies (1 & 2...uh-hmm, waiting on 3), The Silent Players, The Parade's Gone By, Swanson on Swanson....drool.
My husband has retired from the military and we have finally settled (for awhile, anyways). So this last summer he built for me, built-in bookshelves. (Actually, this is the second set he has built, the first one being upstairs being smaller, stretching across our hall.) A dream come true! They are beautiful but much to our dismay, not all the books fit. Plus, it looked terribly crowded. I guess I have been watching too much HGTV, where they are always clearing out the clutter, books=clutter! So I have books on a stand by shelf in my dining room and *gasp* in boxes in our basement but now after reading this I feel the strength to bring them up and pack my shelves, and maybe stack some under that table next to our reading chair, oh, and there is a spot next to the desk for another small stack....we aren't using that table top for anything.......
I am thinking of getting a kindle. I feel like I am contemplating heresy, but I am.
I mean, if I could just replace all these stacks and stacks and stacks of books with one little gadget. I might actually be able to free up a few level surfaces around the house, actually do paperwork at my desk, maybe even use my workbench for computer upgrades so I am not constantly opening up my computer on the couch.
I was cruising around amazon's website, and found they are offering some really attractive packages, such as the complete works of Dickens for 99 cents. I think that sort of pricing only applies to works no longer subject to copyright, but still.
In fairness, I have never been all that concerned about books as objects, being far more interested in the words and ideas they contain. I am a reader much more than a collector. Most of my book collection consists of cheap mass edition paperbacks, many of them bought used. Most of the exceptions are non-fiction of various categories, which rarely get printed as paperbacks.
Understand, I like paperbacks. They are convenient to hold in one hand, easy to tuck in a pocket to keep around for those odd moments when I am stuck standing in line or otherwise waiting. Given a choice, I would always prefer a pocket size paperback to a hardcover, even if they weren't less expensive.
Anyone care to comment on their experiences with kindle? Is this turning to the dark side or does Amazon's gushing promotion actually have some truth to it?
In theory, in my mind, in my dreams of reading I would much rather curl up in bed with a book then my Kindle (which I bought for commuting since I found it too hard to my back to lug my work and a new book). However, the truth is that when lying on a couch or in bed the Kindle actually provides a more satisfying experience.
Unlike a book (in reality...not in those cozy dreams) the Kindle can be read at any angle. I don't need a hand to hold the page open. I can truly lie on my side and easily read curled up. And truth be told after the first minute or so I am so immersed in the actual content of the book, I forget I am not holding real paper!
By the way, reading on a Kindle is NOT like reading on-line (if you think it is, you haven't used a Kindle...it is not back lit and reads like ink on paper).
This opening section of your post couldn't be more timely for me. I've just moved from Boston to Cologne in Germany to study. I don't know anybody yet, and I'm living in a small, spartan room that's no bigger than your room in Cape Town was. You'd think this transition period might be challenging, but I realize that I don't need too much to be happy. Teapot? Check. Books and DVD's? Check. I feel like somebody's there with me as I read C.S.Lewis's "Screwtape Letters", and when I need a pause from books, I've got my DVD collection. Who knew "Undertow" would make an expat miss America just a little bit?
As for not being able to get rid of stuff, I'm only in my twenties, yet I cling to a winter hat from my childhood that was made in West Germany.
I have three comments about books.
Once during office hours, a student asked if I'd read all the books in my office. I replied, "Some of them, twice," a true statement, but not a complete answer to his question.
Yesterday while reading "a person's" review of the OED cited in this thread, I laughed so hard I had trouble breathing, frightening a student who arrived then and thought I was having a stroke.
Third, I am so happy you mentioned Olive Schreiner. "The Story of an African Farm" has the clearest description of fractals in nature I've read anywhere.Every space in my house that isn't filled with books or computers is occupied by cats, so normally I wouldn't care for a description of an animal's innards. But goodness, Schreiner gets the anatomy right, and then makes a leap that would be impressive now, and is completely flattening for 1883.
"A gander drowns itself in our dam. We take it out, and open it on the bank, and kneel looking at it. Above are the organs divided by delicate tissues; below are the intestines artistically curved in a spiral form, and each tier covered by a delicate network of blood vessels standing out red against the faint blue background. Each branch of the blood vessels is comprised of a trunk, bifurcating and rebifurcating into the most delicate, hair-like threads, symmetrically arranged. We are struck with its singular beauty. And, moreover - and here we drop from our kneeling into a sitting position - this also we remark: of that same exact shape and outline is our thorn-tree seen against the sky in midwinter; of that shape also is delicate metallic tracery between our rocks; in that exact path does our water flow when without a furrow we lead it from the dam; so shaped are the antlers of the horned beetle. How are these things related that such union should exist between them all? Is it chance? Or, are they not all the fine branches of one trunk, whose sap flows through us all? That would explain it. We nod over the gander's insides."
The answer to the penultimate question is that evolution discovers and uses the laws of geometry. But I won't fault one of my favorite passages.
Ebert: That is drop-dead brilliant.
Schreiner was a pioneering liberated woman. Born a poor South African country girl, she became the mistress of Havelock Ellis -- a challenging position.
with specific regard to eric l.'s comment about children preferring a hard copy of a book-
i have worked as a youth counselor in a juvenile detention facility for the past eight years or so. in that time, i have grown to respect the residential aspects that forced detention necessarily entails as an indicative microcosm with regard to the world outside the walls of the facility. and simply stated, i know kids love good books. for the most part, the kids read age appropriate fiction that reflects their perceived personal status, the bluford high series, walter dean myers and such. some read bestsellers and others those back to front anime books. a few read the classics. almost all get really into a series at one time or another. absolutely all, however, carry and display their current book like it's a fuckin badge of honor. devoid of any other form of overt self expression, the title of the book they carry effectively conveys a personal message that betrays their drab, institutional scrubs. it screams "i am here and this is what i believe!" the recommendation and passing of books between residents in detention is biblical (often, literally so).
i find that this also happens to some extent at the coffee house or tavern. i live in iowa city, a college town, and countless are the times i have seen a drab patron reading a portable nietzsche, clearly aware that he has chosen to study at the most visible area of the establishment. i have also witnessed guys in corners intently reading between covers obscured by brown paper. surely the anarchist cookbook or the new dan brown.
until the kindle includes an LCD front display that tells everybody what you're reading, or online offerings furnish a tangible badge of honor, the broken spine of the well worn, dog eared, marked up, busted paper cover copy of the book will always have a place in humanity's back pocket.
and great couplings and arguments will occur just because of it.
Ebert: Everytime I look at the new posts I learn something valuable to know.
I feel a bit churlish and unromantic for saying this but after forty plus years of avid reading I’ve finally managed to separate my love of reading from a sentimental attachment to the objects themselves. I still have plenty of books I treasure – art books, old hardcover editions of favorite authors, but any book that’s not so obscure it would be hard to find another copy I try to give away to someone who will read it as soon as I’m finished. Partly I just got tired of having to enter rooms sideways to avoid the tottering stacks that were waiting to find shelf space, but the real turning point came when I took up the habit of rescuing books from other people’s garbage piles, shocked that anyone could be so barbaric as to do such a thing. I’ve found some great stuff that I kept for myself – everything from a Kipling first edition to a bundle of ten Charles Bukowski novels to The Great Movies by Roger Ebert. (Bill O’Reilly by the way probably holds some kind of record for having his books thrown away while they’re still on the best-seller list.) Most of the rest I trade at a used book store or give away to sales at local churches, but every year I’m left with a couple of crates of books I must with much regret and guilt return from whence they came because I cannot imagine anyone wasting on them time that could be spent reading something more worthwhile, books that I know would end up thrown away anyway if I even tried to give them away –textbooks and travel guides that are out of date but not old enough to be of historical interest, thirty-year-old Reader’s Digest anthologies of condensed bestsellers (surely anyone with even a passing interest in one of the included novels could have find the time to read the whole thing by now), self-help and other advice books with titles of stunning banality by people whose photos suggest a degree of flakiness so high that I wouldn’t rely on them to feed my cat while I’m away for the weekend, nonfiction quickies written to cash in on current events which involve no first-hand research and contain no information that couldn’t be gleaned from a lexisnexis search, and others so obviously not worth the mulch they could be reduced to that I’m amazed that anyone bought them in the first place.
My dad is a librarian by trade...your post reminds me a couple things he has in my parents' home. First are two paintings by Carl Spitzweg: one called "Cactus Friend" and the other "The Book Worm."
You can see them both here: http://www.allartclassic.com/pictures.php?p=1&p_number=802&forder=1&countsp=15)
The other is a quote by Clarence Day that I thought you'd appreciate:
The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man. Nothing else that he builds ever lasts. Monuments fall. Nations Perish. Civilizations grow old and die out and after an era of darkness new races build others. But in the world of books are volumes that have seen this happen again and again and yet live on, still young, still as fresh as the day they were written, still telling men's hearts of the hearts of men centuries dead.
As per my dad, he's not necessarily a bibliophile himself. The only full collection of his that I know of are the works of James Oliver Curwood (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Oliver_Curwood)
Finally, i found this link with a shirt combining two of your favorite things: evolution & books:
http://www.flickr.com/photos/33138717@N00/1014060062/
Enjoy!
Deacon Godsey
Omaha, NE
Thank you for another heart warming entry. You are a man after my own heart and I am jealous of Chaz....but I have a wonderful husband who brought a leather bound full bookcase of the classics into my life. Our 1836 house has a wonderful window seat just 5 feet from one of our old fireplaces and I have taken that space over as I go through his whole collection. I have discovered Willa Cather (My Antonia) and read it twice and Sarah Orne Jewett (The Country of the Pointed Firs and Other Stories) and some old favorites from High School English Classes that I didn't realize were really great books. He in turn has been patient about my musty collection of books from the World's Columbian Exhibition in 1893 in Chicago. Those book were so beautifully bound and the paper is so luxurious that they have lasted in tact for over 100 years. We have talked to people in our travels around New England who fear that the coming generation does not appreciate the old things they way we do, they would rather stay at a modern fancy hotel than a quaint Inn or Bed and Breakfast, and would rather gamble at Foxwoods than meander through the countryside. And they would rather read on their computers or Blackberrys than sit in front of a fire and hold an old book in their hands. If that is true then something has been lost, but that is true for many things in our modern instant communication world. Any way I am rambling but thank you for being my touchstone to a genteel world which is passing quickly.
Ebert: When readers mention favorite authors here, I'm surprised Willa Cather is so rarely mentioned. She was a towering figure of American literature, first introduced to me in an English class titled "Cather and Faulkner" (although I had already read Death Comes for the Archbishop). She's the only author of whom I can truthfully say I have read every book at least twice. I liked to think of her prose as like running water -- not from a tap, in a stream.
Recently it was observed from some expert that inner city kids often do poorly in school owing primarily to distractions from the numerous gadgetry available from computers, Nintendos, to Ipods, but that reality was observed many years back by my parents even before the advent of color TV, let alone the microprocessor.
I loved comic books and Mad magazines, fishing, bike riding; and, consequently my academics suffered; and it suffered also from the local movie house; but, most particularly from the grainy and absurdly unreliable, tin foil rabbit eared, black and white TV we tormented ourselves with:
The 'boob tube' is aptly what many who recognized this brain drain called it.
Still historically, the thing, television, was unprecedented and even unavailable in my parents generation. I love TV, even today; this passive medium of mostly worthless information and cheesy entertainment.
But, really I digress; since, I meant to discuss my life with books which hasn't been as rich as Ebert's life with them at all, but nevertheless my life has been very much influenced by books; and the printed word's presence crucial to many if not most the good things that have come of it, such as it is.
As a grade schooler as I noted above I wasn't a good reader of books; and, for the various book reports due from 3rd grade through 7th I would, for some reason, choose to report upon a book my father started to read to me as a seven year old. A book he never even got through the second chapter of: 'Moby Dick'.
I'd seen the Movie with Gregory Peck and tried to tell the story before our class for some four years running. The teacher would roll her eyes and finally just told me to sit down before I got very far in my confabulations.
I don't think I really learned to read till around 6th grade when I read 'A Wrinkle in Time' -- the TV movie some years back was a horrible travesty of it from what my mind imagined.
Any hooo, as Marie would say, I did finally read Moby Dick out of sheer shame; and, finally fascination when I was 19; 'Pretty good', I thought; and, I also learned to juggle three balls during that period of time too.
By the way, sure, Hob Nobs are great, but for dunking into a steaming cup of coffee, you can't beat a Bourbon. Yummy.
Do you ever walk into your library/office in attempt to pick out a book to read, spot one, and just when you're about to pull it off the shelf, see the one to the right of it, say, "ooh," and just when you're about to pull THAT one off the shelf, spot the one to the right of it...etc.?
It seems my major obstacle to actually reading is wanting to read too many things.
When I was an undergraduate student, I took a class called, "The Evolution of Jazz." It met in the evening once a week, and the professor, a noted musician and music historian, would play tunes and tell stories about the jazz scene in 1950's New York. It was one of the best classes of my academic career.
One night he told a story about a friend his - a radio host of some sort - and the love affair this man had with vinyl records. As a radio host, it was his job to purchase the music he would play on the air. As a music lover, he simply could not satisfy his need to have new material. According, he would buy three copies of every album he wanted: one to play on his radio show, one for his own personal use, and one to keep sealed as a spare.
Naturally, as the years rolled along, his collection grew to a phenomenal size. When he died, his family discovered that the upper story of his small home was sagging dangerously low. The sheer volume of vinyl records threatened to come through the floor. My professor said there were universities at home and abroad vying for the collection, which was valued at hundreds of thousands of dollars.
To Zach Geschwilm:
As a gamer, I'm not sure this is the best place to be discussing video game's merit as an artform or a storytelling medium. With the amount of people that play games these days, it would be a dangerous assumption to assume that nobody here who has responded plays any (even a certain recent comment that slyly inserted a pointless jab at computer games when he really had no reason to). The blog post is about books and anybody who pat themselves on the back by undermining games as a medium had nothing to really gain by doing so. I don't see anybody here calling movies a waste of time, only bad ones.
I could myself talk about how I feel a good video game is really something to be admired: the attention to design and detail, the ability to create a whole world that can be explored even if it has to deviate from the narrative (as opposed to a book which I could argue does not allow you to even temporarily stray from the narrative to explore other facets of the world it inhabits), the ever increasing emphasis on having an acceptable soundtrack (hmm...kind of like a movie). But I'm going to stop there because it's uncalled for in this post, much like a lot of the other quips being made about games.
Remember, just as many people would probably hold a similar position about movies in relation to books. They're taking all the imagination out of life, I tell ya! And as the commenter John Majic said, the gaming industry doesn't have a whipping boy that everybody turns to the way the movie industry has Michael Bay. Even in the book industry, there is what is considered to be lowbrow entertainment.
A quick Google of the Amazon Kindle, and bibliophile opinions about it, reveals that are actually people who think that Amazon Kindle makes the book reading experience too private. That they can no longer have an opinion about you based on the cover of the book you're reading...That said, I have a couple of graphic novels, ranging from manga from Japan to the collected Peanuts collection, that I have not yet finished at home. Ideally, that should say nothing about me other than that I like admiring pictures.
Montaigne's description of his library is my idea of heaven.
Ebert: "Like a Renaissance encyclopedia or commonplace book, the library in which Michel de Montaigne composed his Essais was a display not of objects or images, but of words; in addition to the books it held, on the exposed beams were painted fifty-four aphorisms in Latin and Greek, drawn from pagan authors and the Bible, almost all expressing Montaigne's skeptical philosophy.
"The space of Montaigne's library was a re-idealization of the books it contains and the writing it engenders, manifesting their rare sayings with the same interest as any collector displaying his rare things. Montaigne's library was located at the third and top floor of a squat tower that overlooked the front gate and courtyard of his chateau. After the death of his friend Etienne la Boetie, he converted it from a storage chamber, probably to provide a space for his friend's legacy of books. The terms Montaigne uses to describe his library suggest a position of worldly mastery. Its arrangement allows him a clear and instantaneous view of his books, his sentences, and his surroundings:
"at one sweep I command a view of my household. I am over the entrance, and see below me my garden, my farmyard, my courtyard, and into most parts of my house. . . . The shape of my library is round, the only flat side being the part needed for my table and chair curving round me; it presents at a glance all my books, arranged in five rows of shelves on all sides. It offers rich and free views in three directions, and sixteen paces of free space in diameter."
http://findarticles.com/p/articles/mi_qa3612/is_200404/ai_n9374581/pg_4/
Re:
"By Travis on October 6, 2009 5:50 AM
I miss many things about Cape Town.
But not the weather."
I had to laugh. I love Cape Town and the weather was glorious over the weekend but now it's raining, the wind is blowing like mad and the clouds of mist hang round the mountain like winter is never going to end.
Thanks for sharing this Ebert, never knew you lived in my home town. And I can identify with that quote by Harold Bloom
"I am naïve enough to read incessantly because I cannot, on my own, get to know enough people profoundly enough."
So many things I've learnt about people I've learnt from books, not sure if that is a good or a bad thing.
Ebert: Ever been to that used book store on Long Street?
Hi Roger,
I had the pleasure of hanging out with you in back to back years during the Conference on World Affairs at the University of Colorado at Boulder, initially interviewing you and Jim Emerson for a piece I wrote for the National Board of Review of Motion Picture's website. When I first met you, I asked you to sign the "La Dolce Vita" section of my copy of the book THE GREAT MOVIES by Roger Ebert because I knew it was your favorite film. It was then that you invited me to participare in Boulder where I shortly found myself analyzing Fellini's film frame by frame with you, Jim, and the wonderful Boulder audience. While in town, you, Jim, and I were browsing through a book store when we spotted THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF KAVALIER AND CLAY by Michael Chabon and you told me it was one of the best novels you had ever read. I bought and read the book because of your recommendation. I found myself enraptured and enthralled by one of the greatest books I've ever read about New York City, the 1940s and 1950s, World War II, the art of magic, and the inspirational spirituality of cinema... as well as being an education about the nature of the comic book business which I knew little about, and just a great, detail-rich story. Thank you for your recommendation, thank you for your kindness, and thank you for your own literary contribution to our culture.
Gio'
Ebert: I was just contemplating re-reading that.
@Aaron Reese:
It seems my major obstacle to actually reading is wanting to read too many things.
During a rainy Sunday a few months ago, I could not decide between Tess of the d'Urbervilles and The Forsyte Saga. I ended up reading The Good Soldier. I have yet to read the other two.
Great description of that row house, your post took me back to a favorite memory...one Summer between college years, when I lived in a huge furnished house with three others. My bedroom was huge, probably 400 square feet, and there were two kitchens and two living rooms - a sprawling Southern mansion misplaced in Upstate New York. I'd kill to have that much floor space today.
Ironically, I spent 90% of my time in that house in a legless padded chair in the corner of the bedroom, feet up on a worn Ottoman ($20 for both at a Goodwill store), tea and ashtray on the huge log on my right (which also braced the pole lamp to the ceiling). I worked six nights a week and got home around 1 AM, then would sit in that chair and read all night long, falling asleep somewhere around dawn. Up at noon, and then did it all over again.
I remember thinking at the time - especially on thunderous, rainy nights - what a safe and wonderful place the corner of that room was. I don't think I ever sat in either living room even once.
As to the overflow of books, media and other mementos, I can only smile in agreement as a fellow "retainer". There is warmth and beauty and a lifetime of memories in those stacks and boxes; a non-gatherer only sees chaos and clutter. Until they need that hard-to-find book or album, anyway.
Roger:
One of my favorite memories is staying at my folk's lakehouse, sitting on their screened in porch and reading some old biography (I'm on Paul Newman right now) while it's raining. You're right, there's something about being protected while the weather is beating down that makes life feel cozy and warm. My niece and nephews look at me like I'm crazy when I curl up with a book out there. Maybe I am. But it's a good crazy. :)
Patrick
I wonder what Cody (October 7, 2009 6:27 AM) would think of the practice, in Japan, of bookstores putting brown paper covers (with the bookstore's name) over the covers of paperback books. I imagine this has more to do with protecting the cover than hiding what the person is reading (since hardcover books are left untouched, already having removable covers), but it does prevent other people from seeing the title of the book. Because of this, my friends and I used to joke that the Japanese didn't want other people to know what "naughty things" they were reading ;-)
On the other hand, when I saw Japanese people reading manga, magazines, or tabloids on the train, they weren't nearly as discreet as to the contents!
Roger,
Great post.
I don't go anywhere without a book. On the way to work, the grocery store, even a movie, you never know when your going to have a few extra minutes. Why waste them?
I need more book shelves. A lot more.
-Carter
It seems videogames have reared their ugly head again and at the risk of throwing this rather pleasant discussion into another one of those debates, I just wanted to throw out: I play videogames and it has not stopped me from reading far more widely than most people my age (and many people older than me) have. I think the flaw in the logic here is that we assume time taken for videogames is time taken away from books, or movies, or operas, but the fact of the matter is I don't think I would actually read more if I didn't play games. For me its more of a substitute for something like stamp collecting or underwater basket weaving, something of a relaxing distraction from more strenuous work. Some might see it as a waste of time and/or money, but I think its just a product of the environment my generation grew up in (I'm 26). Most people my age grew up with videogames and its something that's held over into our adulthood, and while some might argue that underwater basket weaving is a richer distraction, I'll be content to pick up a nice underwater basket weaving simulator whenever they see fit to make one.
Regarding Roger's: " And every precious stain tells its story. "
A wonderful friend of ours who died too young last January had been an active member of the "Aldus" book society- a club for fans of rare and antiquarian books. He was a passionate exponent the literal interpretation of this statement. He often told the story of a pair of astronomy books that he owned that had once been in the library of Edwin Hubble (the man who realized that the universe is expanding.) Pulling one off the shelf he would open it up and ask you to lean in and take a sniff. What did you smell? Cherry Tobacco. In photos, Edwin Hubble was never without a pipe. The book was not just a collection of paper and words, but a connection to the past and another human being.
Astronomer Owen Gingerich also took this philosophy literally in when researching his book "The Book Nobody Read" about Copernicus's "De Revolutionibus"- which, it had been said, was so dry and tedious that it went unappreciated in the decades following its publication. Examining almost every extant copy of the first printing of "De Revolutionibus" (over 300 of them) Gingerich was able to determine that not only had the book been read, but that it had been thought about, discussed, commented upon, and followed up... All of this was gleaned from the scribbles, underlines, stains, hairs, food crumbs, and other detritus left within the pages of these tomes.
A book is more than just words. If Kindle-like devices ever take off, we will be poorer for it.
Brad Hoehne
Ebert: I'm enjoying the comments on this thread wonderfully.
Lovely, as always.
I noticed you mentioned Churchill's telling of WWII. I hope you should read it. Its prose is so lovely; it reads like a Churchill speech sounds, but more fascinating.
I happen to be interested in world history, and WWII is quite the event. But I suspect that even people who are not interested in readying anything (more) about the war will find it interesting. Churchill gets into the minutia; you read about general war strategy and broad political debates, but you also read Churchill's letters to Roosevelt and Ciano's letters to Hitler. Thrilling stuff, in a sort of Ian Fleming, James Bond way. And all true!
It may not be as wonderous to read as a great piece of fiction, but I think it is certainly worth a look.
Ebert: Obviously, have a heart-to-heart with your girlfriend, stay in Monticello and enroll at the U of I College of Law.
Oh no, I'm going to be moving. We won't be in a small one bedroom forever. The joke's on her when we get a second bedroom and she thinks it will be a guest bedroom/office. It's going to be more like Library/Office/MAYBE guest bedroom (if we can fit the bed in around the stacks of books).
As for law school, well, the U of I is my safety. It's my undergrad school, and I loved it there. But I've ALWAYS lived in East Central Illinois, and it's time for me to be somewhere different. Columbia is my number 1, Northwestern is my number 2, and we'll see by my LSAT scores I'll get in a couple weeks whether those two are pipe dreams... Regardless, I hate the idea of picking out my reading materials for the next year. I mean, just because I haven't touched "Foreign Policy and Christian Ethics" in ten years doesn't mean I won't need it in New York, right? Right?
God, this is painful. Thank you for helping me mourn the (hopefully temporary) loss of part of my soul. You do good work here.
Mr. Ebert, I got a kick out of your British delivery of these musings about how books can transform the tightest of quarters into a palace of mind expansion and heart ease. I wasn't aware you'd lived in South Africa (?). I loved the procession of "English" references . . . tins of biscuits (not boxes of cookies or crackers), your use of the word "abide" at the end, and so on. My wife and I left our Cleveland house so I could undertake the adventure of teaching high school English in rough-and-tumble northwest Arizona where we live in the old frontier town of Prescott in a veritable shoebox of an apartment. We bump into each other. But when I'm sprawled out reading (toggling between Wuthering Heights and the Bible these days) and have a nice cup of coffee on the little end table beside me, I'm a king. And yes, the little coil to heat up tea water or beans can be enough to make you feel the fulness of your life. It's not about size and grand acquisitions. I'll bet even rich people see that in their more englightened reveries. Anyway, keep on blogging. The one about the old burger diners was great too.
It's odd. For a while, it seemed all I'd been reading was trivia books and books about movies. But lately, having started to pick out a few books from the library where I get a good majority of my movies, I've been feeling more and more like a reader.
As I type this from a college computer, I have sitting next to me my bag, which contains notebooks, a calculator, and most importantly, "The Adventures of Huckleberry Finn." I read an abridged children's version years and years ago (is that blasphemous? Or is it a great way to make kids curious about the books they read? That could be discussed all its own), and found that, since last week was Banned Books Week, it would be appropriate to read a universally-acclaimed book that has been shunned, first for opposing Southern viewpoints, lately for using a word now offensive but then appropriate.
My first encounter with Banned Books Week was a reading of "Of Mice and Men." To be honest, I've tried to read a lot of classics, and felt overwhelmed; perhaps I'm not mature or patient enough to get through Faulkner or Joyce's stream-of-consciousness writing, at least not now. But Steinbeck was different. With "Of Mice and Men," I read it quickly and felt I had grasped it perfectly, recognized the symbolism, and most importantly had found an author who didn't overwhelm me.
As for selling books... hmm. I recently read a decent Western my parents bought me for five dollars, but I don't feel like I'll ever need to reread it. There's a wonderful little store about a mile away from my house called Half Price Books, and I want to go there and sell the book, and maybe find a few new ones while I'm at it. My parents hate taking me there, because I take forever and I find lots of stuff I want to buy. Oh well. There's always the library.
Completely unrelated to your blog entry, but "Munyurangabo" is now available to Watch Instantly from Netflix. I thought your blog-readership may want to know.
Miles Blanton
Hi Roger
I was very pleased to see, after first discovering your insightful film criticism in 2006, that you're incredibly well-read.
As a blossoming bibliophile I enjoy your reflections on books, but I'm humbled by the many books/authors you mention that I've never heard of before!
I clearly need to expand my literary horizons.
Any chance of a blog entry systematically detailing your favourite fiction and nonfiction books/authors?
Cheers
Ah, nice to see a fellow hoarder. However at the young age of 18 having a little stash of my books is not an option, everything I've read is mostly gone. My father has the policy that once you read the book, why keep it around?
Thank you for this post. The notion that print is dead always reminds me of Ray Bradbury's Fahrenheit 451. I love my books like some people love their children.
The two most prized books in my house are a battered public domain edition of the complete works of William Shakespeare that my mother gave me when I was 15 and an ancient edition of As You Like It that she had hidden in her hope chest when she died. I presume it was one of her schoolbooks. I had to buy The Riverside Shakespeare for class when I was in college, but I'll admit to selling it back to the university bookstore at the end of the semester. It didn't have as much meaning to me as the book my mother had given me. I did hold on to the Riverside Chaucer, though.
My partner and I have thousands of books, too. One of our friends asked about this, because, well, we live across the street from a public library. I could only tell him that "if you have to ask, you wouldn't understand."
Hi Roger,
A question that begs to be asked - do you feel the same way about collecting films? Do you have a large collection of DVD's, lasers, VHS, maybe even film so you can have your favorites to browse through "just in case?"
Patrick
Thank you for recommending "The Golden Notebook" a while back, which I just finished. It was indeed a wondrous novel.
Somniferous:
What compares to a page's perfume: dust and ash; a forgotten candle's fragrance; perhaps a distant dinner's aroma soaked into the page; or maybe an earthen scent still lingers from the page's oaken origin. Yes, the text, always the text, but the smell of a book can be equally intoxicating to the bibliophile; it tells a secondary story.
A novel sold in a seaside store will tell a different secondary story than the same novel sold in a bucolic bookshop: the salt-soaked pages might contain some chantey; the countryside's pages might smell of wintertime firesides, or languorous summer nights.
The secondary story can only be told so often: open the book, smell the pages, and the perfume is polluted by the surrounding aromas. But bury the book under other unread books--let it be forgotten while other books are read; and then, after it has fermented, open it again: a whole new story of smells has written itself.
---I'm in love with this. Yes. Who? Where? More?
By Gio' Crisafulli on October 7, 2009 9:08 AM: "While in town, you, Jim, and I were browsing through a book store when we spotted THE AMAZING ADVENTURES OF KAVALIER AND CLAY by Michael Chabon and you told me it was one of the best novels you had ever read. I bought and read the book because of your recommendation. I found myself enraptured and enthralled by one of the greatest books I've ever read ..."
Good gravy! I just mentioned this book to a creative writing major--as well as "McSweeney's Mammoth Treasury of Thrilling Tales." We were discussing the problem of plotless contemporary fiction, and I thought immediately of Chabon, and his intro to the "Mammoth Treasury." Three cheers for plots!
Ebert: When readers mention favorite authors here, I'm surprised Willa Cather is so rarely mentioned. She was a towering figure of American literature, first introduced to me in an English class titled "Cather and Faulkner" (although I had already read Death Comes for the Archbishop). She's the only author of whom I can truthfully say I have read every book at least twice. I liked to think of her prose as like running water -- not from a tap, in a stream.
I agree. Cather is an astounding novelist. I wish more people read her works.
Ebert: You want to be mindful when peeling vegetables toward where your thumb and index finger meet.
My mom always taught me: aim sharp objects AWAY from your body parts.
That sounds annoying, but you seemed to recovered with all your fingers intact.
That reminds me, I once slammed the bathroom door in the heat of an argument, forgetting that my fingers were wedged in the space between the spine of the door and the wall.
I never slammed a door again.
At one time, I was addicted by the notion of an expansive library. I bought the classics, some were worthwhile, some were not. I compiled a reasonably impressive collection for a college student.
Then, I started to give them away. A book is meant to be read, it is not meant to sit idly on a shelf. I read a book, and if I find it worthwhile, I pass it on. If I find it worthless, I sell it back to a used bookstore. My bookshelves are relatively barren now, littered only with the books I've read and will read time and time again.
I have no idea where my copy of The Perks of Being A Wallflower is, I referred it to a friend, who gave it to a friend, then gave it back to me, then I gave it to a cousin of mine, who gave it to a friend and so on and so on.
In my mind, spreading literacy is more important than books on a shelf.
"To spend too much time in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation; to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar... Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation...Some books are to be tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested; that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and attention... Reading maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an exact man."...Bacon
Indian H.W. writes: This is one winged creature which shall keep its uropygium determinedly bivouacked betwixt these principally hirsute chested raconteurs. This unfledged recalcitrant literary arriviste votary of yours, cannot be importuned to squeak, cheep, tweet or, chirrup at any venue but this, replete with sophisticates that are sumptuous paramours of elusory cinema and felicitously bereft of subfuscous antediluvian cerebra cudgeled by phthisis.
SNIPPY's IMPREGNABLE PERSONAL INTEGRITY prohibits that he EMBIGGEN HIMSELF through means of MERE PREVARICATION; he has the METAPHYSICAL LARGESSE to allow that he has been outclassed by this ESCRITORIAL SPECIMEN herewith rendered by an UPSTART HINDOO. This has temporarily metastasized SNIPPY'S DISCORPORATE MENTIS into PSYCHIC PERISTALSIS.
SNIPPY henceforth and straightaway shall retreat into the LOWER REACHES OF HIS BIBLIOPHAGIC GUSTATORY to study these SESQUIPEDALIAN VAGARIES by way of INTELLECTUAL ENEMA.
That is all. Thank you.
SNIPPY the Internet Columnist
Your writing touches me so much, and I'm not sure why. For some reason (PMS?) this moved me to tears: "The ink has all dried up over the years, but I still need need them in order to provide a purpose for the mug."
Please write forever.
Thank you for this post. I am a bibliophile and an avid student of the ancient world, which makes for wonderful afternoons in used book stores scrabbling for the unexpected treasure of old Latin/Greek texts, relics from a time when those languages were more widely studied.
I recently found a beautiful text for a high-school course on Virgil's Aeneid--complete with copious notes and a student vocabulary--and although I already have a half-dozen books that cover the same selections--many with much better critical detail--I just couldn't let this one go. These recycled textbooks often contain priceless annotations from previous owners (not to mention doodles from a few bored students). And I'll cheerfully add my own notes, providing perhaps a knowing smile to some future reader. When this real connection with the past and future is what you treasure, Kindle seems a poor substitute.
I have many books at my home, but I have never counted them. Four bookshelves are in small room, and books are sharing spaces with DVDs. For providing the space for DVDs, I had to throw away some books. The reasons are 1) They were translated version(in Korean), and 2) I was ashamed to have read them. Sidney Sheldon? Clive Cussler? Throw them all! I cannot believe I read them(Well, I was 12, so that explains something). There are V.C. Andrews's "Flowers in the Attic" books, but it was not fault. My mom and dear cousins read them. What the hell, I read them, too(Again, I was young and naive).
After learning English, I do not have much interest in translated books except in case of other languages. However, I still keep lots of translated books in my bookroom.
1) James Joyce's "Ulysses". When I heard about it in 1996, I got curious. I immediately bought three volumes of paperbacks and a guidebook with so many footnotes for each chapter. I had a great time with them. I seldom trust translated books, but this is translated by well-known expert. He translated "Finnegans Wake" seven years ago, and translation version, barely touched, still looks down on me from topmost shelf. In contrast, original paperbook has been casual entertainment in the loo. It has been better than bathroom joke books to me even if I do not understand the book much. Good thing is you can close the book whenever defecation business is over. I also have "Dubliners" and "A Portrait of the Artist as a Young Man".
2) John Milton's "Paradise Lost". I read it right before I began the first year in science high school. After my dormitory life began, I found "Paradise Regained" in school library. It was good, but I was a little disappointed because it was quite short as sequel. School Library had lots of good books. Three translated books I remember very well: "The Great Expectations", "Moby Dick"(I was more fascinated with depictions of whale hunting industry), and that dreadfully long masterpiece of Marcel Proust. I am still amazed about the fact that I managed to read it all and extract few pieces of his precious memories.
3) Big collection of mystery novels
I read every books by Agatha Cristie and still keep them all. I also have books by other writers including Ellery Queen, Ross MacDonald, Raymond Chandler and others. And one book by Simenon.
4) And Stephen King's Books
I have many translated books and some of them are out-of-print. I keep them because of some sentimentality.
5) And also Gabriel García Márquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude"
I was naive at that time, so I accepted everything in the book literally without much thought. I am thinking about reading it again.
In case of English books, I read anything I have interest in. Usually, I read them because of movies. In case of "The Devil Wears Prada", it was just curiosity and that book made me more careful of vocabulary. Like "Da Vinch Code", I would not mind throwing it to trash can. There are 10 novels of Larry McMurtry including Lonesome Dove series. One shelf is completely occupied with Stephen King's paperbacks. There are two books by Hubert Selby Jr, and three books of E.M. Forster. Joseph Heller's "Catch-22" and Kurt Vonnegut's "Slaughterhouse Five" are cheerfully funny and horrible. In case of Malcolm Lowry's "Under the Volcano", I gave it to my cousin who is good at Spanish and I will buy new edition someday. I wonder whether Giles Foden's "The Last King of Scotland" is much better African version of "The Devil Wears Prada"(or Should I say "The Devil Wears Kilt"?).
In case of Cormac McCarthy, I am reading "Suttree" now. I think this is one of ultimate tests for valuable reading lesson that I learned at high school. Do not be interrupted by words you don't know; just get the whole picture by reading phrase by phrase. Next stop is Border trilogy or "Blood Meridian".
And there are many books waiting for me. I still have Penguin paperbacks unread(I bought them a lot during bargain sale). There is also that Laurence Sterne's book. I thought the movie was joke when I watched it, but the book does exist and it is also translated in Korean. Studs Terkel's books are translated in Korean, too. His works are more well-known than I thought.
P.S.
Animal: Bestiality = Plant: ?
Must-read book for book lovers:
Too Loud A Solitude by Bohumil Hrabal
http://www.zverina.com/bestbooks/990201.htm
Hello Roger,
I would like to add my voice to the comments recommending Terry Pratchett. His "Good Omens" with Neil Gaiman would be a good place to start, as would "Small Gods".
This is a something I've been chewing on a little while.
I've read a lot of books at different times in my life, and I find that my reaction to a book is colored by my interests and experiences at the time. In re-reading books, my response can vary wildly from the initial reading. Movies are the same way. Things I loved five, ten, twenty years ago don't always hold up, and things I disliked then, I may appreciate now. It seems my relationship to and evaluation of books and movies is organic and in flux.
So here comes the rub:
You often refer back to your published film reviews as your final word on a subject, an absolute value. But a man of some years sees the world differently than a young man. Have you ever gone back and re-reviewed films?
Hi Roger,
I read the reviews on Amazon by "person" and enjoyed them immensely. I showed a few friends around the office too, and was soon directed to this link:
http://www.amazon.com/Denon-AKDL1-Dedicated-Link-Cable/product-reviews/B000I1X6PM/ref=dp_top_cm_cr_acr_txt?ie=UTF8&showViewpoints=1
It's a plain old ethernet cable selling for an insane $500. It was just begging to be mocked. Start reading the reviews...you won't be able to stop. I was crying from laughing so hard after reading only a few...and there are 32 pages of them, going back over a year.
My favorite: scroll to the bottom of the page and click the "Gift" link.
Enjoy!
I reckon that anything that stays vividly in the mind more than 20 years is probably great literature, at least to the rememberer. So goes "The Fabulous Furry Freak Brothers" for me. In the same way, so are the cartoons of Winsor McKay.
By way of calibration for those who would scoff, my next reading of MOBY DICK will be my sixth, cover to cover, still daydreaming I could have sat quietly in Melville's attic and watched him write it.
My jury is still out on the hand-held electronic readers. From a practical standpoint they're still too expensive for everybody, like PCs used to be. Catt bought a Kindle and it breaks down periodically, tho' she likes reading from it.
The advantage of instant downloads has to be measured against what's available, and I know there's a very good reason for the high number of posters here who haunt used bookstores. I'm one: I've bought one single new book from a bookstore in 2001. The rest, from used bookstores or junk shops (5 in the past year), people give 'em to me or I just find them. And like a LOT of people (I do hear from them), I feel somewhat insulted after browsing for a couple of hours in a Borders or Barnes & Noble. Recently I slammed shut a book on linguistics and finally left. One of my fave subjects, written by a man who writes like Krusty the Klown.
"Condescended to" is the term I've heard. Do they think we're all products of "No Child Left Behind" minimal assembly-line education product?
Google may be attempting to remedy the downloadable selection by buying up every book ever written. But they're justifiably tied up in legal knots over it lately -- so I've read.
Publishers are howling about Amazon's $9.99 price for electronic books. "They'll put us all out of business," goes the chorus.
My problem with hardcover books is that they're printed on acid-processed wood chip paper, which falls apart. Every book I've bought since 1975 has crumbled to pieces. The food and tobacco stains didn't hold them together. But, for instance, one of my lifetime favorites, MYTHS OF THE RHINE, by M. Xavier, published in 1865, found in the attic of a years-long abandoned house, was in perfect condition when I read it; it probably still is, somewhere in my parents' old library. I've opened and read precious books from the 1500s, still in fine condition, printed on hemp paper, at specialty used bookstores.
(PS does anyone know that the actual reason Galileo was brought to Church court was because he hadn't written his treatise in latin? That the reason he was charged was because writing it in his local tongue made it too difficult for other scholars around Europe to understand? So says a friend who's got 18th C. Encyclopedias and who once copied bits from a 300 year old English-language Quran for me.)
Paper and denuding forests to print lousy reads is a problem. Upstate New York at the turn of the 20th C. had been denuded to 4% of what the forests once were (a guy from Cornell U wrote me this). We have indeed been wiping out ancient forests for toilet paper and the like. It's become problematical for housing because of the fashion in which trees have been cultivated: they're sawed down while young and intempered. The boards warp.
The U.S. publishing industry alone put out 276,950 new titles in 2008. Industry sales have been taking a steady dump for years. 20% down for the venerable old name Simon & Schuster last year. 32% over the past 2 years. Bigwigs are blaming the readers for not reading.
I know not a single person who's cut down on their reading habits all my life. One reads even more as s/he matures. The postings here are exemplary. They don't want books designed to fit marketing demographics and never have. They want unique and excellent experiences -- although there's always the potboiler, so long as it's a good potboiler. (The industry didn't recognize the Harry Potter books, either. It was virtually by accident, a second thought owing to a little english girl who told her dad how much she liked the story, that Rowling got her chance).
(You know how I feel about Dawkins, Roger, but nobody can deny this guy can write. I'll make my jokes, but that's why he's selling where other religiophobes aren't.)
I wish I could replace my little collection of hardcovers that have fallen apart -- I'm still reading them (I'm with those here, like Grace Wang, who have the habit of "traveling light"). But they're largely out of print. My hope is to find replacements in used bookstores by people who got bored with them. I'd gladly buy electronic copies. It's the content, not the sentiment.
We're going to have to make these changes en masse, for ecological and other practical reasons. My ideal is small printings in hemp archival paper be produced -- as they'll last for centuries as I've already seen -- and electronic copies for dirt cheap.
Mr. Ebert, I have been reading your blog posts ever since you began writing them and sharing them with us. I have never managed to leave a comment, though I find myself filled with thoughts and ideas every single time I read them.
I feel that book lovers such as ourselves are really lovers of THOUGHT. What is writing if not symbols intended to convey thought from one brain to another? The beauty of writing, of any writing, is that it is only half complete until someone picks up the writing and experiences the thoughts of the writer firsthand, inside their own heads, prodding the grey matter in new and unexpected ways.
Sadly, there are way too many people around now who do not love thought. These people do not care to expand their consciousness through the shared world of literature. They do not seek to shore up their brain with the vital collective human thought that exists outside of ourselves in books.
I am 36 years old. I own maybe 5,000 books. I cannot pass up a library sale, or a used bookstore. I used to answer people, when asked what would be an ideal existance for me, with the following sentence - "I would like to spend my life holed up at the Library of Congress, reading as much as possible." I have even talked at great length with my friends as to how this would be an ideal vacation.
I dread the day, and it may have already come, when the average person cannot find in books what I have found my whole life in books, namely: solace, hope, wisdom, strength, humor, love, pain, passion, information, camraderie, and maybe most important of all, the power of my own mind.
Your faithful reader,
Roberto
Blackie come home is my favourite entry. But this is coming close.
In the early 90's while living in Atlanta my manager sent me to participate in a career day at a public elementary school. The principal explained why children are passed along from grade to grade. He said they couldn't do homework assignments because there were no books, magazines, or newspapers at home. He started out failing his students if they did not do the assignment. He eventually just gave them a pass if they showed up. I was stunned. My parents had subscriptions to the daily papers (Sun-Times and Tribune), weekly (Jet) and monthly magazines (Ebony, Ladies Home Journal, Popular Mechanics, Woman's Day). Like most of those responding I can't imagine not having books, or magazines. I go online almost daily. But I also read the local paper. I have given my husband books for birthdays and anniversaries. I get books from real bookstores, Amazon, and BJ's warehouse.
One last thing. I had an interview a few years ago and the owner told me a famous baseball player lived around the corner from him. He asked if I am a sports fan. No. He couldn't remember the guy's name but he described him to me. I told him the man's name, Phil Risutto. His team, the Yankees. His nickname, The Scooter. And his position, shortstop. Now the potential employer says "I thought you didn't like sports." I don't. I watch the news and read the paper. But not the sports section. He did not call me back.
Until the next time,
TL
I read over a hundred books in second grade. My favorite author was Thornton W. Burgess. Then I read all of Dr. Doolittle by Hugh Lofting. Later I read Alice in Wonderland 10 times. Then I was on to Edgar Allan Poe and Mark Twain. Other favorite writers at different times as I grew older were Thomas Wolfe, Aldous Huxley, Faulkner, Henry Miller, Eugene Ionesco, Fielding, Thoreau, Orwell, Yeats, Kingsley Amis, Muriel Spark, Mordecai Richler, Robertson Davies, Paul Muldoon, Ruth Rendell, Philip K. Dick. A book I really enjoyed last year was "The Book Of Dave" by Will Self. There are many books that I intend to read, but haven't, including "The Road to Reality" by Roger Penrose, "Hundred Years Of Solitude", and "Middlemarch". I think it is a losing battle, as I buy more new books before I read the old, and there are distractions such as work, television, movies, and people, and then there are all the suggestions on this thread.
There is something to be said for great first paragraphs. I'm thinking of the first paragraph of Luis Bunuel's autobiography, speaking of his mother.
Thank you for this post, Roger. My parents both instilled in me a love of the written word. I remember when I was a little girl, my dad would tell me to go pick out a book so he could read me a story before bed. I would come back to him with an armload of books because I couldn’t pick just one. And although I’m sure my dad was tired after working full-time during the day and going to school for his MBA at night, he would dutifully read aloud every book I brought out to him. I remember my first boyfriend’s shock when he came over one day and my mom, my dad, and I were sitting with our novels – no TV, no chatting, just enjoying a quiet afternoon, sitting around reading.
A few months after my mom passed away last year of pancreatic cancer, my dad asked me if there was anything of my mother’s that I would like to have. There were three things: my mom’s aquamarine ring (that I wear every second of every day), a framed portrait of my mom at age 8, and my mom’s collection of Stephen King novels. Every time my mom would hear that a new Stephen King was coming out, she would mark the day on the calendar and cross off the days to the upcoming release like a kid waiting for Christmas. She would show up bright and early at the bookstore, buy the new King, go home, and read the book cover to cover in one day. I asked her once why she didn’t “savor” the book more; read a chapter a day and make it last. Her reply was that she tried, but that King’s books were so good, once she got started she couldn’t stop. After she read the latest King, she would lend it to me, always telling me she wanted it back when I was done.
After Stephen King was struck by a van and seriously injured while taking a walk, my mom read an article that quoted King as saying that he wasn’t sure he could ever write again. Although she understood his depression and pain, it deeply saddened my mom that her enjoyment of King’s work might come to an end. When King started writing again, my mom was overjoyed that she would be able to enjoy her favorite author’s work for years to come.
Although I own hundreds of books of my own, these King novels mean more to me than any of them. I think of my mom sitting in the sun with her coffee and cigarettes, her face lit with excitement as she read. Every time I look at these books lined up on the shelves, it makes me smile.
Roger, first of all I'm surprised to see you've signed up for twitter, you we're one of the few "celebrities" that seemed to agree with me on it's worthlessness...but maybe we we're both wrong....
Anyways it's posts like these that make me happy to be a longtime loyal reader of yours, and proud to say that your reviewing style has most directly influenced my own. Anyway, I just started reading "Kazan on Directing" which is thoroughly engrossing to say the least,I was wondering if you have read it yet or plan on reading it at any time, I'm not sure how public Kazan's notes are or if they are just being revealed for the first time through this book but it's a goldmine of knowledge for anyone interested in film, theater, or literature.
On a side note, I was wondering if you are a fan of John Barth, I've read a few of his books and really enjoyed them. I purchased Cormac McCarthy's "No Country for Old Men" and "The Road" after a combination of seeing the formerly mentioned film and your zealous praise for the writer on numerous occasions, and something about his writing and Barth's strikes a common chord with me.
>But I remember reading the novel late, late into the night when I was 14
I used to sneak a book into my bedroom and read at night as a kid. See, my parents wouldn't let me read too much because I read my fair share and my weak eyesight (near-sightedness at age 6) concerned them. I went to great lengths to read. As a parent to be, it concerns me that today's generation don't take an interest in reading. Forget reading too much. Just yesterday while flipping channels on Leno's Jaywalking segment, a Harvard English graduate couldn't finish the statement "The Adventures of Tom _____". Mr. Ebert - as you worry about your inability to trash books or read everything you own, I suffer from the pain that my future generation won't be reading AT ALL and if they do it won't be Dickens, Twain or Shakespeare but Stephenie Meyers and the like.
It could be me opening the book, or some garage sale stranger.
"In idle hours I like to leaf through my well-worn leather-bound 1970 edition of Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable, (£5, used)which offers entries not to be found elsewhere"
When I have five minutes to pass, I usually delve into Eric Partridge's Dictionary of the Underworld (1949). Did you know that "fence" as someone who buys stolen goods goes back to 1608? That "drag" meaning wearing women's clothes (for a man) goes back to 1874? Fascinating...
I am positively drinking these comments - food for the soul, indeed. I have had 2 bookcases custom made for me, and while fairly small, it is select. I'll match my library against anyone's regarding various interests I have enjoyed over the years. For my Lizzie Borden collection, I have a reprint of the one that started it all: the 1985 first reprint of "Fall River Tragedy" by Edwin H. Porter. It was limited to only 1,000 copies, and the only reason I was even aware of it was due to a mention from a bookseller friend of mine. Back then I was living in New Orleans' French Quarter, which had no less than 5 used book stores, with at least 3 attendant cats-in-residence. (Not bad for a section that is only 9 by 11 blocks.)
Oh, the memories!!
I once heard a woman tell someone she had grown up in a house with no books. She almost seemed proud of it. I, on the other hand, felt immediately sad for her. I cannot imagine a house with no books. To me, that's a house that's missing a soul.
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Although I have never commented on your blog before, I now feel very compelled to post an expedient aside. Whike I have not read many (if any) of the books you mentioned, I admire your sentiment and wholeheartedly agree with you.
Another thing I am pleased to notice is that the comments section of your blog is back to normal, proving that your last entry's comments page was just an abhorrent anomaly filled with angry, impassioned, and petulant outbursts.
Before I depart, I must recommend an author I regard very highly, one which no one else seems to have spoken of. That author is H.P. Lovecraft, and his short stories were truly horrific and amazing, predicting many of the trends that Hollywood would later adopt (he came up with the idea of, "aliens hiding among mankind," long before, "The Invasion of the Body-Snatchers," ever materialized onto the silver screen, given that he penned it in 1930).
Yrs. Truly,
Patrick J. Harney
This wonderful entry puts me in mind of the obsessiveness of my own quest for books over the years, used or new. I have often felt like some kind of detective on a case, tracking down books no one has ever heard of, i.e. books not sold in Walmart or Target. There is nothing, nothing whatsoever, in life quite like browsing through a great book store and landing on just the perfect title, or making an unexpected discovery. One of the finest chain booksellers I know of is Half-Price Books, which to my knowledge has shops only in the great state of Texas, and where I rather casually (not to mention quickly, and shamelessly) spent $100 on books just last weekend (after driving 400 miles just to get to the nearest outlet!). But the greatest experience of my book-shopping life, Roger, was browsing the shelves of Larry McMurtry's Booked Up in Archer City, Texas, McMurtry's hometown and the locale of his "The Last Picture Show." Now here is Nirvana for booklovers. Booked Up was recommended to me by some fellow journalists, and on three occasions I made the several-hundred-mile trip out to that dusty little cattle town on the Texas plain, just south of Wichita Falls. I am from a small town and have no real love for them, but Archer City, with its tumbleweeds and wind-swept courthouse square, instantly captured my imagination. At that time, McMurtry had converted four or five buildings in downtown Archer City into his own personal bookstores, each containing a different category of books. This was back in 2000, so things may be a little different there today, though I doubt it. I was amazed to be able to just walk from building to building looking at all the books! Most of them weren't even staffed; the doors were unlocked; the curious customer was free to browse, climb a ladder, read, investigate, explore. On my last trip, I took a friend from back home out with me. He was searching for a particular science fiction novel. We were in the building housing McMurtry's fiction. Unable to locate the sci-fi section (we were too busy scoping out all the unproofed galleys of Kurt Vonnegut novels), we noticed that Mr. McMurtry himself was in the building, stocking the shelves. We approached him, and he readily helped my friend find the exact book he was looking for. He then went on about his business, trundling his cart of books over to the next shop. Needless to say, it was a terrific experience, and I hope one of these days to return to that wonderful spot out in the middle of nowhere. Cheers, Roger.
9 years ago, I made a drastic change in my life. I left everything behind except a backpack with a single change of clothing and some traveling food. I went away for several years and determined never to own more things than I could carry in that backpack. I stuck to it, too. As I would reside for a while in this or that place, I bought no furniture or other possessions, and kept only enough changes of clothing for three days (forcing me to do laundry regularly). I did buy used copies of films, would watch them for a while and then give them away to someone else. But the one thing I was not able to completely stop collecting again were books. They would slowly build up, and when it came time to move to another place, I picked two to keep and carried the rest to coffee shops and distributed them to anyone who seemed interested.
This change was due to a life of hording. My mother horded everything, in a tiny house already too small for the people (12 in total) living in it. Closets, bedrooms, shelves, the back porch, the front porch, even her car are piled with things she never got rid of. I inherited a bit of her hording nature, as did all of my siblings. My possessions were meager through college, as I was poor and shared houses with other students. But eventually I had the income necessary to start hording clothes, books, films, music, and other such things. And I am among the lesser hording members of my family.
When I decided to walk away from possessions for a while and live only with what I could carry, I gave away a lot of my things. But not my books. They were boxed up and stored away. When my traveling days were over, the books were waiting back home. Now, I am no longer living out of a backpack, I am happily married and have a home and furniture, a large movie collection again, and several bookshelves filled to bursting. I don't even have room for the books in those boxes back home. I went there to visit family last year and thought I'd finally toss all of my old stuff out -- we don't have room for it at our home now, and there's too much to just ship it back.
Sitting with the boxes and going through them to see if there was anything I really had to keep, I ended up with only empty boxes as the things to throw away. The books went back in the boxes, the boxes back into storage, and I decided my only option is to buy more bookshelves. Or start a library.
I would love to see you put your blog entries into a book. Your not only a great movie critic, your a great blogger as well.
Dear Ebert,
Thank you so much for this blog entry! I absolutely love to read, although I find that ever since my junior year of high school (I am currently a senior), I find less and less time to do so. Over the summer, however, I love just sitting around and devouring novel after novel. I find that I am so torn between my love of film and literature, however, that I can't decide whether I want to double major in Biology and Comparative Literature or Biology and Film Studies!
PS - One commenter said he wanted to learn Latin and Greek in order to read great works in their original language; I am Greek and his comment made me realize how much I take my fluency for granted! Given, my reading level is about that of a 10 year old's, but that mostly has to do with my impatience: I read so quickly in English that I become frustrated with my slow pace and give up when reading Greek.
How indeed could anyone throw away a book? At worst pass it along to someone as a gift. Books are a treasure. Who would throw away treasure?
In 2002, my (not then) wife and I lived in San Francisco. One day we loaded everything we possessed into a U-Haul and drove across the country, from one coast to another, to my parents' home in Virginia Beach. It was a wonderful, strange, scary, beautiful trip, and the beginning of our REAL life together. However, along the way, the rain that we'd encountered leaked into the trailer and ruined, among other things, about a dozen boxes of books (mostly mine). Most were textbooks (historians and their insatiable need for textbooks), and quite a few out of print and impossible to replace. It was a disaster I probably haven't quite recovered from to this day.
My books are my refuge. I retreat to them when I need an answer (or sometimes a question).
I have a paperback copy of "All the President's Men" that is so worn from use the tape I've used to bind its cover is yellowed and in need of its own tape now. The copy of my favorite novel, Norman Mailer's "Harlot's Ghost" is so poured over, its pages fan out when I pick it up.
This week is the 20th anniversary of the Leipzig protests that signaled the weakening of the East German establishment that would lead a month later to the fall of the Berlin Wall. It was so wonderful that I could search my own shelves for a copy of Robert Darnton's "Berlin Journal" to revisit that incredible moment in time.
I even have a well-used copy of "I Hated Hated Hated This Movie" which brings me great joy whenever I stumble across it on the shelves...in fact I think I just might have to fish it out for an evening perusal tonight!
Thanks Roger, this post got right to this bibliophile's soul!!!
If we begin going down the road of book recommendations in a comment thread there is no return from that abyss, but I had always thought that if I was fortunate enough to spot you at a film festival I would, in addition to dishing about what was important to see at the festival, urge you to read David Foster Wallace's "Infinite Jest" if you had the time. You must've at least heard of Wallace in passing, if you haven't read any of his work. He was a MacArthur Genius Grant recipient in 1996, owing largely to Jest, which had just come out.
It's a long book (1,000 pages) and another 100 pages of endnotes beyond that. Like many young but eager readers I bought it 3 or 4 years ago and let it sit on my shelf. I'd flip through it from time to time, wondering if I had the commitment to tackle something so long and dense. One of those readers like me finally decided to do something about it and this past summer launched a website called Infinite Summer to set a firm schedule for reading the book and create a forum where other readers could start conversation threads (without, of course, mentioning anything beyond the page count determined for a given day) about anything related to the book. It ended up drawing thousands of people, all reading in tandem, and was a joy to be a part of.
Wallace was one of the truly stand-out novelists of this generation, though he unfortunately took his own life in September of last year owing to emotional imbalances after going off of mood-stabilizing drugs. I think that's part of the reason so many people felt it was time to finally make the commitment to his master work, as well.
Reading that novel will go down as one of the most formative and memorable literary experiences of my life, and I can't urge you strongly enough to read it. I say this knowing full well that as one gets older he ought to be choosier about what he decides to invest in, and I can say with full conviction that even at 1,000 pages it is well worth your time.
Just a small tip from one reader to another...
Ah, to be among other readers and collectors. It does my heart and soul good. Over two years ago I had to move into a 240 square foot one-car garage converted into an apartment. I have 47+ boxes of books which I refused to put into storage. My dearest friend and former roommate did not understand this in the least. The boxes sit on industrial shelves which themselves are on industrial casters making it somewhat easier to get to them as necessary. I have them all cataloged and can find what I'm looking for easily. I use "Book Collector" from collectorz.com, and that is another great joy of my life. My landlord doesn't like to come in because all my "stuff" makes him nervous. I mourn not being able to read what I want while school is in session but I find joy in the new treasures I find throughout the semester. In less than a year, this "non-traditional" student, affected both by the high tech bust and the current recession, will finish her BA in history. After that, who knows? I know it will involve reading the books that have gathered on the floor and in the frontmost boxes on my shelves. Long nights of learning continued, whether through the study of an interesting topic or some great fiction I just found. I just read Moby Dick this past summer as part of a reading challenge. I was enthralled and think Melville and I weren't meant to find each other until the summer of my 50th year. I honestly think I would die if I didn't have books to keep me company.
I saw the Kindle for the first time at a Toronto book-fair. It's rather elegant looking, and if I had a long journey to take, and minimal fear of pickpockets, it would be nice to have one. I'll tell you what the Kindle can't do well, though--comic strips.
The bottom rows of my bookshelves (those braced by the floorboards, and so able to sustain the greatest weight) are filled with hardback collections of Peanuts, The Yellow Kid, Little Nemo in Slumberland and Krazy Kat. Those last three were produced in an era when cartoonists were given civilized amounts of page-space within which to work, and to fully appreciate their genius, you need the biggest page you can get. My kopy of Herriman's komplete sunday strips is the size of a family Bible--virtually unportable. If not for the shelf, it would be furniture itself. And if not for the shelf, I might have had an excuse not to buy the expensive, ungainly, wonderful thing. Efficiency isn't all that matters. To kwote Krazy Kat:
"So by me, afta dew kinsidderations, time is nothing"
I save and savor my books. If I get to revisit some of them once a decade, that's great. I am always rewarded and only sorry that I didn't re-read sooner. Or I discover visiting a small favorite of my mom's that she has pressed some flowers in the pages. My heart is overwhelmed finding this two decades later. As a visual person, I love bookmaking and type and I have collected years of pre-Tina Brown New Yorkers for the font and cover art alone. And then there's ink. The smell of textbooks in September; mimeograph paper! Kindle, you have your place but let's not get carried away. Books have a vibe and they are ever so portable.
Is it sacrilegious to say I love the Kindle? I'm a book lover myself since childhood, not just a casual reader, and I adore the heft and feel of a well-worn and cherished book as much as the next strangely-dressed weirdo, but I also have an iphone with the Kindle app on it, and I find it quite useful. This is because I don't like buying hardcovers or porting them around, which mitigates the problem of having no more room for too many large cumbersome volumes. If a book comes out that I want to read immediately, but I don't want to wait for the paperback, I download it to my phone. Handy, convenient, portable, and good for the environment! I can read it on the bus and train, which I take every weekday. I'm doing just that with Dawkins's Greatest Show on Earth, by the way (not a Dawkins fan, but with this one, yes! the man has written a thoughtful, heartfelt, informative and relatively jargon-less treatise on evolution that drops (for the most part) all the religion-bashing of God Delusion --have you read it yet? Fantastic stuff, science-for-the-masses stuff! makes me want to read his other books --*I should note that with the Kindle edition I miss out on the color plates, but just yesterday I snuck into a Borders and perused them all). When I have no late-breaking releases on my iphone, I will also read old dusty paperbacks on my commute, either borrowed from the library or traded in 1-for-3 at a terrific used bookstore near my house; but for those books that I just can't wait to end up in the bargain-bin (and therefore must read as hardcovers), I have my Kindle app!
Be aware I have nothing against hardcovers as a principle, quite the contrary. I too collect books; not in the obsessive-pack-rat sort of way, but in the obsessive-yet-snobby sort of way. Yes, I have bookshelves that look pretty! (Many of these permanent volumes are from my Library of America subscription, which I feel I cannot live without.) I have read most of these and reread some, but there are still plenty I obsess about reading one day. I don't display my books to show off; the display is not for any guests' enjoyment or even my wife's, but for mine. I like how they look all cozy in their bookshelves. I like to sort and rearrange them at whatever whim strikes my fancy. When I am not busy reading you might find me categorizing my library, alphabetizing by author last name (sometimes first name), by title, by publisher, by author THEN title, (once even tallest to shortest!), etc. etc. (*I should disclose that I also have an app on my iphone that satisfies my ADD on the road, as well; it allows me to add and sort a list of all my books and DVDs when I can't be there to do it personally.) I might also sort by what books I want to read after the current one I'm reading, and by the time I'm ready to read the next in the queue, I've inevitably changed my mind, so I go on a fabulous sorting frenzy yet again.
Am I crazy? Maybe. At least I am not a crazy Luddite. I have the paperback or Kindle app for the commute, and the handsome hardcover for relaxing at home (currently Philip Roth's The Great American Novel; next in the queue: Philip Roth's My Life as a Man --yes, chronologically through Roth). Thus the Kindle has become an integral part of my reading adventures. Not the main part, certainly, but just because the device might not suit a few shabby-looking bookworms' tastes doesn't mean it represents the death of all that is literary.
P.S. I share your consternation about Cather-neglect, but what about William Maxwell? Even most well-read people have never heard of him. It makes me feel a bit like Word Smith from the aforementioned Roth novel furious that no one takes him seriously about the Patriot League.
Ebert: I love books. I do have my eye on that Apple flat tablet rumored to be coming out after year's end. Sounds like a wonderful portable browser.
Ebert: I just don't get Scott.
This mystifies and troubles me. What is there to get? I love Sir Walter Scott. Or, to be more accurate, I love Ivanhoe, which is, sadly, the only of his works that I've read. It's a rollicking medieval adventure. Yes, rollicking. That's not to say it has no purpose or deeper themes. All that is there. But above all else it's a thrilling story. It's got swords, tournaments, lords and ladies. Heroes and villains. What else does a boy need? Even Robin Hood makes an appearance.
Melville, on the other hand, I just don't get.
P.S.: I love this entry and the following comments.
I collect history books and have always loved history. You have no idea how amazing history can be until a real historian and researcher comes along and digs up the actual facts and lays them out before you using documents, old photos and the bare facts. History is truly stranger than fiction, when you cut through the fluff and see what really happened.
One of my favorite history book is The Lincoln Country War by Frederick Nolan. Its an amazing book mainly because it reveals a side of the Wild West that shows us how much Americans back then were motivated by the same things they are today: greed, power, and prestige. But its also amazing because it takes a character we think of as almost immortal and fearless and places them context of a War that makes them but tiny pawns in a bigger play. That character is Billy the Kid. We all know the story and what happened. But what Nolan has done in this book, is gone back into the archives and looked at the whole drama that unfolded back in 1875 and reconstructed the story in a way thats really fascinating. It turns out that the Lincoln Country War was very much like Star Wars....a way of good versus evil, and that Billy for a time was on the good side. It also shows "de-romantisizes" the outlaw west as one giant mafia of men battling for the rights to sell cattle to Indians for government funds and control water and land rights to support it. It turns out, that Billy the Kid and his story is but a small facet of this much larger tale....and in the end a sole survivor of his faction, on the run, scared and misunderstood. What I find remarkable about books like this, is your whole assumptions about the West and history drop away and you are captivated by the strange reality of all these people sucked into these dramas and struggle for power and control over limited resources, each other and the native people. You start to see how these homeless boys roaming the desert stumble into these groups of men, take sides and become pawns in this much larger chess game. Its very much like our own modern world today....we are trapped by our decisions but also pawns in a much bigger play thats unfolder around us...one controlled by money, power, incluence and politics. In the end, Billy's death is death becomes nothing more that the resolution of the crimes set in motion by the greedy decisions of the men who came before him. When you see his life or anyones life portrayed in History this way, its very moving because you see the tragedy of it all in full view. All the pieces come together and its complete. My grandfather used to tell me "the Hand of God moves through Time to lead us all towards a final ending and a purpose which is his own".
I'm going to start reading several books at a time (not literally).
Kindles definitely rob you of the anticipation generated by the smell of a book.But let's also hear it for the scent of a new book . Nothing beats that waft of new , crisp pages and ink - the sense of a new adventure about to begin. And what about the feel of the pages as you turn them ? Some leaves are slightly rough , some smooth ; some turn compliantly , others resist - making you work for your reward.
This topic makes me think of something I loved in one of my recent favourite books , " Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell " by Susanna Clarke. Taking place in an alternate 19th C. England , it alludes to an old law fallen into disuse - ' book murder' , a hanging offense. Seems just and rational to me.
By the way, if you haven't read this book , you're missing the most delicious 800 page treat you'll find in a very long time. She uses 19th C. language and style very naturally. The love of books and the hoarding of books are central to the story, it's meticulously researched (for when our 19th C. and hers overlap) and there are even fabulous fictional footnotes. Go enjoy.
I'm going to start reading several books at a time (not literally), and I think they are going to have places reserved for them: the lieu, the bedroom, this chair, that chair
I probably have some five hundred books, piled and stacked in boxes in the closet - it's unforgivable, but I haven't gotten around to getting a good, old-fashioned bookcase, yet. I need to do that, one of these days.
Still, the three authors that I always try to make room for, out in the open so that I can grab them as fast as I can, would have to be Richard Adams, Ian Fleming, and Joseph Campbell. My copy of "The Hero of a Thousand Faces" has a portion of its pages falling out, and that first copy of "Watership Down" looks like somebody took a chainsaw to the cover, but I wouldn't have it any other way. Fleming's more of a casual collecting hobby, for me - tracking down first edition paperbacks of "Casino Royale," "Moonraker," stuff like that. I don't think pulp fiction has ever seen a better writer, really. Even "Goldfinger" - which is probably the worst of the Bond novels for it's outlandish racism toward the Koreans and lazy plotting which was much improved by the film - is a real, classic "blood and thunder" potboiler. There's even a buzzsaw.
Probably the first author to really grab my attention was Bram Stoker, at age ten or eleven, with "Dracula." I was just getting into film, and going through a "Dracula" movie obsession - the Gary Oldman version really caught my interest, and with everybody saying that 'this was just like the book,' I decided to go out and get my mother to buy me a copy. And, she did - which has led to me spending more money on different copies of one book than any other in my library, I'm sure. Hardcovers, paperbacks, mass-markets, you name it.
It'll be a while before I can get them all shelved up again, including the graphic novels and such, but I'll get there. With pictures, too.
I have read many of these posts regarding books that people have bought that they've no read (yet). Funny, that's the opposite of how I've always looks at my own library. First, I read what I'm interested in at the local library, and only the best of the bunch ever gets into my own personal library. I've read the Narnia books several times,but only the hard-to-find hardbacks are in my possession. (I like to discover my prizes, and I've found 5 of 9 of the Narnia series, and one is an English edition, with dust cover. Joy. joy!!)
Rereading my books is an enduring pleasure. What I get out of Sholom Aleichem at 50 is so much more than what I got at 20. Well, really, any author worth rereading has that same effect, don't you think? I love being able to see the craftmanship of Somerset Maugham and Flannery O'Connor - how they do what they do, so well.
I really would rather read than eat!
But, hey - food and books! Mmmmmmmmmmm.......... My fave was Reduced Fat Ruffles, and slices of Monterey Jack cheese with Jalapenos. Add a nice cold beer.......Heaven!
Pssst! Look up shitmydadsays on Twitter. http://twitter.com/shitmydadsays
Hello Roger,
I love it when you mention Tintin!
My parents have a complete set, with the spines completely rebuilt with duct tape they have been read so often; my wife's parents have them all too, we have a copy and no doubt the kids will have one as well. Asterix is another favourite, and the complete collection of Valérian, agent spatio temporel is a less well known gem that I regularly return to.
I’ve been a little unfaithful to paper books with the advent of Ebooks, especially with the availability of older, out of copyright, works. I have dozens of ebooks that I Might read Someday, all in their little folders, patiently waiting for an empty moment on the commuter train. There is some satisfaction in having a whole library in my pocket, although I agree that if they do satisfy the intellect, they do not satisfy the senses the same way a book can.
For years though, my favourite paper item was not a book, it was a complete set of blueprints of the Enterprise deck plans, by Franz Joseph Designs, given to me by my parents when I was 12 or 13 years old. I must have gone thought them 100 times, figuring out the paths of the lift tubes, wondering at the engine pods and the “classified” censorship tag, hiding their contents. I still have them; they have yellowed a bit, and the folds have become fragile, I rarely open them since I know them by heart. I’m just glad they’re there on the shelf, in their little plastic envelope.
My mother’s copy Joy of Cooking was a wonder to behold: no more covers, stained, dog eared and smelling of cooking and flour. I also remember fondly the time spend with my wife in used book stores looking for Time-Life series of cookbooks, in their French version. We eventually got them all, and use them at least every other week.
I’ll finish with a more modern love, Jared Diamond’s Guns Germs and Steel, the book that managed to reconcile for me what I believed to be true philosophically (equality between all people and all societies) and what I knew of history and nature. I now have a French version, which I plan to lend to as many people as possible.
Every year, we throw out tons of garbage, compost tons of vegetables, give away old clothing, toys, games, send old computers to recycling; but we always keep the books.
Thanks for another wonderful post
Michel Lamontagne
Otterburn Park, Quebec
Mr Ebert,
I've long been a reader of your posts. Your meditation on books is fantastic.
Something I struggle with however is material attachment. I know you're not one for formal religion, but I wonder if you have ever heard/read of the Catholic Worker movement started by Dorothy Day in 1933.
I'm living as a Catholic Worker in Kansas City and as I live with the impoverished I'm finding it increasingly difficult to find time to read/ stay attached to material goods.
I don't think there's an answer; I just think there is some important discernment to be had here. When learning is so essential to growth, how do we balance that need with the need to be present to those in society who have very little goods?
Pax,
Joshua McElwee
There have been several periods in my life when my social sphere has contracted to where it can be enumerated on one hand. During these periods, I grow increasingly lonely. At first, a steady diet of movies and TV shows can plug the hole where people are supposed to be. But when things get really bad -- and the stagnant periods can be counted in months rather than weeks -- only books do the job. There is an immediacy to books that no other media possesses: the world being painted is crafted to my imagination, and therefore filled in with my prejudices and experiences. Beyond that, the relationship is more direct: while books are filtered through editors, typesetters, etc. the voice is almost always singular in nature. A good book is like a one-sided conversation with a great storyteller.
I think the personal nature of that dynamic, coupled with the tactile experience of holding a book in one's hands, creates an anchor to a place and time; a state of mind. When we surround ourselves with books, we're really surrounding ourselves with memories. The publishing industry, like the music and film industries before it, would like to eliminate the overhead costs of printing, binding and shipping physical copies around the world. None of the high-tech solutions developed can match the ease, functionality and sheer versatility of a bound book, though. I like that a well-worn, yellowed hardcover from the basement shelves of a used bookstore is different than the same book as a shiny white paperback reprint from Barnes & Noble. I enjoy knowing that, if I ever have kids, the same copies of books I loved as a kid will be a completely different experience when they get their hands on them.
I've never lived in a room larger than 12' x 12'. My current room is only 8' x 10'; growing up I had friends with closets larger than my current room. Rather than slim down my collection, I rely on Home Depot and Lowes for new shelving. Above where I'm sitting now, shelves loom down over me. DVDs on the left are quickly swallowed up by piles of books on the right. The piles obey no particular order, except a rough chronology with the most recent reads on top. There are books on my desk, books under my bed, books in my closet. And books in storage elsewhere. My sophomore year of college, I roomed with a girl that would have probably rivaled you when you were 24. The SUV she arrived in was full of books. And boxes of books arrived by mail for weeks. When she moved cross-country back in August, she sent out an unsolicited plea to "Help Me Carry 600 Books Down Four Flights of Stairs. Also Some Furniture."
Among the world's literate populations, people can be divvied up between those who read and those who do not. I'm not even sure it's a matter of enjoyment. If you're a reader, the act is as much a part of you as breathing is.
Hi Roger,
I am allergic to whatever microbes and their byproducts which turn old books yellow. Within moments of opening a yellowed paper back, my throat tightens, my eyes water, my nose runs. If I push on through and try to actually read a little, I'll be in agony until a few days after I get to the drugstore to pick up some antihistamines.
In younger years I had a massive paperback book collection. Now all gone, hopefully to good homes (donated to the local library's used book sales). I got a Kindle, even got Andy Ihnatko to autograph it while he was at the festival last spring. I purchased the Kindle reading Andy's largely glowing reviews. I love it, a goodly portable library of classics and favorites (available ones, that is).
I guess it's the future, but it's not a bad one. It yields the advantage of having more shelf space to store DVDs. I guess when I can get all the DVDs on my iPhone, I'll have to start collecting something else to store on those shelves.
Thanks for the great article.
Don
Ebert: Andy Ihnatko, the beloved computer industry figure? Hell, I'd buy one too for Andy's autograph,. On the check.
Oh, wait! Oh,God...between the time I decided to post a comment and the time I was finished ( typing oh-so-slowly ), another great whack of posts went up and I read the bit where you said that so many new books seem unnecessarily long. Here I had just been touting to you and anyone else the 800+ page "Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell" by Susanna Clarke (2004).
Roger, don't be put off ! I don't speed read , but I read it in about 6 days , deeply resenting each time I had to put it down to cook a meal ,walk the dogs , answer the phone ,or even sleep. The book is a complete gem and delight. The language is wonderful and it's completely original. A fantasy, it's really so much more than classifying it as belonging to any one genre implies.
It was optioned for development as a film by New Line , but has apparently gotten shuffled about in that whole mess.( But apparently not completely killed off. It's now being handled by Amber Entertainment. ) A script has been written by Christopher Hampton and re-worked by Julian Fellowes. In a recent interview Fellowes said he thinks Clarke is something of a genius...so it's not just me, then. :)
Ebert: I wasn't clear. They're not too long, they're too damn big, The LIbrary of America volumes are a lovely size.
Mr. Ebert,
After reading your post about books and then reading the comments, I felt that not only did I have to write but that all of you would understand. I taught myself to read before I started to elementary school in the fall of 1970. I grew up in Mississippi and kindergarten was not yet an option. I have loved to read all of my life and there has seldom been a time in my life that books have not brought me more joy than other people or movies ever could. And of those two, I'd pick movies. I grew up a loner who loved to read and I'm still that way. I treasure the books that take me places I'll never be able to visit. While Kerouac's On the Road remains my favorite novel, I've found that keeping a large collection of eclectic books makes my life complete. My list includes such diverse books as The Last Picture Show, anything by David Sedaris, obscure children's books such as the Addie Mills series by Gail Rock, The Last Convertible by Anton Myrer, and any and all film-related books with Guide for the Film Fanatic being a must-read. It is great to read all of these posts from people who not only love reading, but also just love books. Best wishes to you and Chaz!
Oh, THERE you are, Ebert. Been wondering. Worried you got lost on Twitter. I almost did; I followed your one-follower-so-far all the way to the President of the United States, and way the hell else over the place. I can see I'd get tired of just little ploops all the time -- Penn of Penn and Teller not too bad with 'em, but the best so far is the 73 year old dad. But we see you've been doing some work for a change.
May I cuss here? Whenever my brothers did something really great, we'd say "fuggin' Tobe." "Fuggin' Vick." "Fuggin' Tim." It was the highest compliment we could conceive. Tobe recently got one for starting a chemical clean-up company that's going gangbusters. Well you get a "fuggin'" for this latest batch of reviews.
Ebert: I've been run ragged not with twitting, but with bankruptcy talks at the paper and trying to attend as many CIFF previews as possible. This thread is drawing many, many comments. To get them online for y'all, I haven't been 'able to comment as much as I like. I opened strong, though.
Ah the OED,
Split into two volumes either because no modern binding method could hold so many pages together or because the publishers couldn't expect their younger or more elderly readers to lift it off the shelf. It's all online now, but like almost every paper text transferred into the digital medium, the convenience comes at a price of some of its essence. Lay that behemoth in your lap and can feel the weight of all that linguistic heritage as an English speaker upon you, cutting off circulation to your lower regions. Thousands of wispy pages, big as window pains, and each page containing four pages reduced into microscopic print. Ah, that word I used this evening to impress a colleague was first put to paper by Chaucer! Such a multitude of words to describe our world, and so few do we ever use.
RE:
Ebert: By you? Or who?
And,
Grace Wang: I'm in love with this. Yes. Who? Where? More?
It was just extempore prose; similar musings fill countless coffee-stained notebooks, I suppose, but quality is always uncertain with spontaneity. I'm glad you liked it, though. If you're looking for sentiments similar to mine, I suggest readingThe Shadow Of The Wind; it's not a great book, but its bibliophilic moments are wonderful.
I recently bought a book that was published in 1911 called The Friendship of Books. It is made up of quotes from Shakespeare, St. Augustine, George Elliot, Plato and many others describing their love and admiration for books. It is filled with old fashioned little illuminations and the quotes are divided up into categories with names like "Inspirers of the Heart," "Educators of the Mind," and "Companions in Pleasure." It has that indescribable smell that comes with old books and it is a book to be experienced, not simply read. It is this book that immediately came to mind when I read your blog. It not only mirrors what you say in its pages but exemplifies it in its being.
It is reading works by Guy Gavriel Kay, Anton Chekhov, Sherri S. Tepper, and E.M. Forster that I am reminded what an amazing species we can be. That we create things of beauty not only for ourselves but for the express purpose of being shared is nothing short of remarkable. So trying not to be too sycophantic I will simply say thank you for yet again for saying something honest.
Mr.Ebert,
i have enjoyed reading this. It helped me better understand my obsession with books(and that i am not alone). Not only are my books my most prized possesions and reminders of content days sitting and reading, but they never change. No matter how many times you read a certain book it will always be the same words printed in the same order for your enjoyement, but im always asked the same question: how do you not get bored reading the same thing more than once? and my answer is usually different. Whether it be to brighten my mood, to pass the time, or because i've forgotten something from the book and need to reread it to find it again, somehow the book is always minutely different each time i read it thus making it enjoyable no matter how many times i do.
"I love books. I hope when I grow up to be able to have lots of them." - Lucy Maud Montgomery
Incidentally, have you read the Anne of Green Gables books, or seen the wonderful film adaptation by Kevin Sullivan with Colleen Dewhurst and Richard Farnsworth?
Books are something that I may go awhile without looking at or thinking of, but when I do I'm so thankful I have them.
Thank you thank you for a blog about books.
I cannot remember a time when I did not know how to read. One of my favorite characters from one of my favorite books says, "Until I feared I would lose it, I did not love to read. One does not love breathing." Hey. Consider the alternative. I need books as much as I need the air; I'm never without a couple of books in my bag. I will read anything; doesn't matter, it's the love of the written word. I've been so completely lost in a story (running away from slave catchers, helping Lew Archer or Easy Rawlins solve a mystery, fighting a battle in a town in Italy, feeling I'm one of the Oolong healing someone) that I would ride past my stop(s) on the el and bus. Oh well. Jump on the bus or el going in the opposite direction and hope my sixth sense will let me know when my stop is coming up. I have so many books from my childhood, teenage and dotage that now that my girl is in high school, I have her read to me from her copy and follow along in my battered copy. Right now, she's reading "Their Eyes Were Watching God." Will she love it as much as I do? Don't know. As long as she's reading.
One of your bloggers wrote that he could live without music and film, but couldn't live without books. I can't live without any of those things. When I read, I hear music. If I didn't love movies, I wonder if I would have read the books (maybe I would have but would have come across them much later)that the movie(s) were based on, adapted from or from the book. And you have to remember, most of the movies that were shown way back when were either "adapted from", "from the book" or "based on the book". I needed to know what was left in, what was left out.
I cannot throw out any book. It is emotionally and physically impossible for me to do so. I cannot pass by any bookstore without going in and coming out with something. I love books. They were my first friends and will be with me for life.
Ebert: My first friends, too. Always ready to curl up with me and shut out the world.
In re: "A Serious Man:" Having Someone pissed off at you means that you matter, does it not?
There are so many books I have left unfinished. I feel so guilty! I started The Name of the Rose more than 3 years ago and have yet to finish it! I am currently reading On Chesil Beach by Ian McEwan (it's marvelous) and planning on reading this year's Booker-winner Wolf Hall by Hilary Mantel. Booker winners and nominees never disappoint me!
PS:How can you not be happy listening to "Downtown"? I love that song!
Roger,
You will need a dog AND a cat. Remember that the dog makes you feel like a god, and the cat humbles you and reminds you that in the grand scheme of things you are nothing, mortal and dying. On the other hand, as the cat gets older, it tends to sit quietly in your lap as a small radiant heater as you read, just as our own mortality and fate grows less abstract and terrifying as we age, perhaps even becoming warm to the touch and purring at us when we consider it. Yes, you will need both...
Jeremy
My reading started, oddly enough, with television.
Back in the '50s, the credit crawls on TV shows really crawled. It was possible to actually read the names as they rolled by. Occasionally, an annoucer would speak the names aloud as they were screened, thus teaching little me pronunciation. Since many TV shows and movies were either based on books or had books based on them, the library was the next logical stop, followed closely by the paperback and comic book racks at the corner drugstore. In particular, it was the 25 cent paperback that made a reader out of me, chiefly because that's what a ten-year-old could afford. Small as they were, they did have a tendency to pile up, which meant the 'collection' had to be turned over fairly frequently. Even in my youth, I drew certain lines, such as the complete sets of certain favorite writers; in my case, these were mainly classic mystery novelists like Rex Stout, Ellery Queen, Erle Stanley Gardner, Agatha Christie, and others of that breed. I have many of these to this day, Pocket Books, Permabooks, Bantam, Ballantine, Signet, with cover prices in the 35-50-75c range, all in the reach of a preteen's allowance, and in those days all in print. I llok at them now and I shake my head: the same books, were they in print today, would go at a minimum of $6.99-$7.99 each. The price rise I understand. What gets me down is how few of these great stories are simply unavailable these days, at least in new, affordable editions. (You need not tell me me about the occasional new appearance of this classic or that.; their scarcity makes them all the more noticeable.)
In this vein, I would ask if you've ever heard of a gentleman from Shreveport LA, by the name of Fender Tucker. This worthy gentleman loves books so much that he got into the business of making them. Not just publishing, you understand - actually manufacturing books on his own.
It all started when Mr. Tucker became fascinated with the novels of Harry Stephen Keeler, perhaps the most unique writer of fiction that Chicago ever produced. Keeler's books are usually classed with mystery fiction, because as one critic put it "no other genre will have him". Keeler's fiction is hard to describe in the short space and time I have here; I've heard that Guy Maddin is thinking about trying to film a Keeler novel, and suffice to say that many Keeler devotees feel thta this is an ideal mating of material.
Anyway, back to Fender Tucker. Having the proper frame of mind to appreciate HSK, Tucker set out to track down his works. This was a formidable task,since most of Keeler's novels had been out of print for decades, and many later ones weren't even published in the English language (Keeler's later work became so strange that he lost his American and British publishers; he wound up writing for translation into Spanish and Portuguese - all this while never leaving Chicago). Tucker found that many of the out-of-print books he was seeking were considered 'rarities' and priced accordigly. By this time he had become such a Keeler enthusiast that he determined to get HSK back in print in his own country and language, at affordable prices. To that end, he became friendly with a gentleman who had devised a way to manufacture books in his own home, using modern computer technology and improvised home-bookbinding techniques. The result was the formation of Ramble House, Tucker's own publishing company, which he named after a similar company in a Keeler novel. Ramble House started small, printing handmade editions of Keeler on demand for those who wanted them. Soon after, Tucker began looking around for other writers who had fallen into undeserved obscurity, and began reprinting their work. Long story short: check out Ramble House's website-cum-catalog for a more detailed account of how they did it and what they're doing now. Fender Tucker tells it better than I do anyway.
(Once again, i beg your indulgence for not providing a link or URL, which I couln't if I wanted to, and in this case I really want to, but I can't make head nor tail out of them, so there.)
As to the Kindle as its like: should they ever decide to make the out-of-print stuff available this way, I might think about getting one. But if they stick to whatever is popular at the moment, which is usually available the other way anyhow, why bother?
Thank you. Wonderful to know that I am not alone....
Tunku Varadarajan explains it well too - http://www.opinionjournal.com/taste/?id=110009676
Tom: We're going to have to make these changes en masse, for ecological and other practical reasons. My ideal is small printings in hemp archival paper be produced -- as they'll last for centuries as I've already seen -- and electronic copies for dirt cheap.
I know we are on route to electronic everything, and books will follow. There's no doubt about it. It's simply a torrent towards the future and you can't take such a universal pasttime out of the equation. BUT, my problem with the Kindle (which I have not tested) is that it reduces the sensory experience of reading. With a printed book, you can touch, caress, feel the edges, carry its weight in your bag, admire the cover and spine, hear the rustle of pages as you flip them, etc. etc. With an OLD printed book...even more visceral the experience, there's that haunting smell so many readers here have talked about, it's not just intangible sentimentality - you can feel them with your senses, it is absolutely tangible pleasure.
Reading on a screen? I do it all the time, all day long. I hate it. It's distanced, cold. Just information passing by. I'm just a sorter. There's no intimate connection.
It is the content that matters, but I challenge that it is our experience of that content that matters even more.
While I share your obsession most enthusiastically, I am quite resigned to the fact that at some point in time books as we now know them will become, if not obsolete, very rare. It may not happen in my lifetime, but it will happen. I don't care. I will have and enjoy my books for the rest of my days, and I am much more adamant that my children (and eventually grandchildren) READ than I am adamant that they read physical books.
My library is one of my most cherished possesions, but I have read a great many ebooks in various formats. I would prefer to have the book itself, but the ebooks allow me to read things that would be difficult to find in print. Thank you Project Guttenberg. And I can read ebooks surreptitiously or in places where I was hadn't the forethought to bring along a real book.
I will mourn the death of the book. But it will not be the first medium that I have mourned. And I am used to younger people dismissing my fusty prejudices. All you can do is preach to the choir. If my descendants learn to love the printed word, no matter how printed, I will be content.
Ebert: I've been run ragged not with twitting, but with bankruptcy talks at the paper and trying to attend as many CIFF previews as possible. This thread is drawing many, many comments. To get them online for y'all, I haven't been 'able to comment as much as I like. I opened strong, though.
---How's that again?
Ebert: I've been run ragged not with twitting, but with bankruptcy talks at the paper and trying to attend as many CIFF previews as possible. This thread is drawing many, many comments. To get them online for y'all, I haven't been 'able to comment as much as I like. I opened strong, though.
---I'm backing off awhile. This happens to me, too. (Clap clap!) C'mon everybody, give 'im a break...
The biggest newspaper in Germany (in terms of circulation) published an interview with Dan Brown the other day, calling him the "Shakespeare of the Thriller genre". If that's true than there's still hope for Michael Bay.
Ebert: Who is the Goethe of the thriller genre? And what is Stephen King, chopped liver?
I remember when i was a kid i read a children's book..i think it is call Odiddy..about an imaginary friend that was the kid's partner in crime but the boy couldnt see the imaginary friend when he grew up. yet the imaginary friend is still there, by his side. my childhood didnt allow for such whimsical fantasies.
Jane Eyre, described throughout as ordinary and plain but is anything but. Ellen Page, eh? it ll be interesting.
anything by mark salzman, i adore. esp True Notebook.
i love the Kindle comment. =)
take care, Roger.
Alas, Finnegan's Wake and The Gathering Storm are glaring from my bookshelf as well--as are a number of Asimov's books (the ones you've never heard of) anthologies of Jack London (admittedly only purchased for Call of the Wild) and Robert Louis Stephenson (for Treasure Island); the second half of Raymond Kurzweil's The Singularity is Near (fascinating; revolutionary; dry as hell); Ghandi's autobiography (same); Peake's Gormenghast (can never get much farther than the room with the cats); Samuel R. Delaney's Dhalgren; and so many Penguin Collection books that I see that goddamn spine and font in my nightmares.
Just lifting my head from my computer to the smaller stack of books atop my desk, I see that I haven't read:
The Philosophy of Neo-Noir
The Kite Runner
Spook (Science Tackles the Afterlife)
Discourse on Method and Meditations--Descartes
Titan: The Life of John D. Rockefeller
Also, what of magazines? Do you save them? I do. Boxes and boxes and boxes of the things are sitting in my basement.
Someday I will finish them.
Maybe.
So what have you just finished, and what did you think of it? (Stephen King's "The Stand", for me; s'alright).
And what are you reading now? (Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance; The Novels of Dashiell Hammett)
Ebert: Reading new Dawkins book and Powell's Dance to the Music of Time.
There are a few people here who say they've read Finnegan Wake. I suspect a great many more have it glaring accusingly at them from a high shelf.
Thank you. What a beautiful love story.
Randy
So glad to read today that The Sun times will not go the way of my beloved Rocky Mountain News. Your reply to Tom Dark, made evident the obvious, that it must most stressful for all now at The Times.
Tom, glad you shared the news of your bro Tobe success in the nasty chemical clean up business. Reminded me of a recent column of Roger and Andy I.s' peer, Sandra Guy. She talks of the work of IIT(Chicago) students working in an impoverished public school helping set up an electrical/solar system for Haitian kids. Like the good stuff. Andy Ihnatko seems quite a colorful character,yet his stuff is not quite my cup of tea. But good to know, among other things, I'll still be able to take an occasional stroll thru Jack Higgins' Cartoon Gallery. As they say, there is room for all in Ebertarianland(take that spellchecker).
Ebert: The Guild vote probably means the paper has a year or two, anyway. Now can the Tribune hold out? After decades of fierce rivalry, I desperatley want it to survive.
LOL You should try coffee k-cups from www.mycupcoffee.com. Best thing ever if you're going to drink coffee while you read.
Brad King: While I share your obsession most enthusiastically, I am quite resigned to the fact that at some point in time books as we now know them will become, if not obsolete, very rare. It may not happen in my lifetime, but it will happen.
You have no idea:
http://www.boston.com/news/local/massachusetts/articles/2009/09/04/a_library_without_the_books/
This school's "library" is going to become the poster boy one day for the follies of relying only on computers to store information, hopefully sooner rather than later so we can all get a kick out of it.
I've heard only one convincing argument in favor of Kindle- that it is an excellent tool for researchers. It would probably be the sort of thing I'd want if I had to cite a textbook quickly. But otherwhys, it strikes me as an egregious waste of money. For being an advancement in technology, it sure loses a lot of the benefits of the medium that it is supposed to be improving upon. You can't lend it to somebody. They are ungainly and breaking one would be a disaster (and you cannot use it to prop your piano!). And let's face it. If some here assert that books have an aesthetic quality that is to be admired, Kindles look like (to quote somebody I can't remember) Taiwanese knockoffs of something.
I think that the only thing your room needed was a couple of cats. I adore dogs but they always seem to want attention. The cats will just sit and purr and sound cozy. Has anyone else read Parnassus on Wheels and The Haunted Bookshop by Christopher Morley? I was twelve or so the first time I read Parnassus and all I wanted to be when I grew up was Helen. I thought it sounded like heaven to travel around in a little wagon with a stove and a bed and a nice dog and BOOKS. I still love those books, they're a bit old fashioned in style as they were written in the twenties, I believe, but if you can find them get them. I think B&N reprinted them some time ago.
I used to work next door to a Barnes & Noble. VERY dangerous. One day I came back to the office and the attorney in the office next to me came in and said, "Oh, you bought some books, huh? Don't you already have quite a few books?" And, yes, he was serious. I always love it when people walk into my house. Invariably they say "Wow, look at all the books". Then they inevitably say one of the following things: "Have you read all those books?" or "Do you like to read?" And none of them understand about re-reading. I have kept almost all of my books from childhood. Whne you're down in the dumps nothing cheers you up like Beth dying. And I re-read the Anne books and the Betsy-Tacy series yearly. (Please tell me someone else out there knows Betsy and Tacy!) Also Jane Austen. Oh, and Ray Bradbury. I'm not really a science fiction fan but to me Bradbury isn't really a science fiction writer; he's a storyteller whose stories happen to involve rocket ships and space travel sometimes. I just think he's magical.
I have to say I do give away books, though. Otherwise they would just take over the house. They already have, truly, I have stacks everywhere. If I didn't give some away periodically I'd end up like the Collyer brothers.
And sorry to all you technology lovers out there, I just can't warm up to the idea of a Kindle. I like the smell of books and the way the pages sound when you turn them. And I know this is sacrilege, but I dogear pages. When I'm not reading I'm making art journals and suddenly the newest thing seems to be digital scrapbooking, journaling, etc. I don't get it. The whole point to me is the paper and the ink and layers and the whole tactile experience. As some of you have said about the books, the stains add to the value of the book.
I'm back, all recovered. I love you SNIPPY and once again sorry, like Marie said, we all need empathy eh? I like to think there's a little snippy in all of us :)
I'm sorry to hear of your financial troubles at the Sun-Times, Roger. I assume a large part of it has to do with not being able to recoup production and distribution costs et al.. I think it might be a good idea if you take out a full page advertisment in every Sun-Times from now until the end of your extension period, informing your readers that all your content will be online and make the paper based version available at an exorbitant premium. It makes sense does'nt it?
There were times when there was'nt any paper and all the news was spread by word of mouth "chinese whispers" style, but parchment changed that and computers and the internet should change paper based news. Sure, it will be difficult at first, foremost to those not used to the medium, but few can hold out against the winds of change and those who want to, must make a contribution towards making the transition for others easier, no?
I agree with what Tom said on the Kindle, hemp-based paper and the mass circulation paper based media. It would be sad to bid the paper medium goodbye, but it does'nt seem like a viable option anymore, I'm sure there were people who were deeply attached to inscriptions on walls and clay tablets and the like too..
Oh, on an unrelated issue Roger, when I refresh the homepage of your blog, it shows that comments have been added to other threads, but when you get to those and refresh them, often the new comments don't show up..and the comment count remains unchanged on the actual threads too.
Sorry to add to your troubles.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Ebert: Many of our troubles stem from Conrad Black and David Radler. Google them for a look at crime among the upper classes.
Jim T said: PS:How can you not be happy listening to "Downtown"? I love that song!
-I love it too. I think we can thank "Lost" for putting it back in everyone's head again. Do you have any opinions about Allen Sherman's take on the song (which I also like quite a lot)?
I remember this movie Fierce People that had a really good quote at the end. It said: We are the sum of all the people we have ever met.
For me, I think that's true, except for every book I've ever read. I don't think anyone could pay me enough to throw away any of my books. That includes every trashy pool-side book, every predictable detective story, and every painfully boring novel from my English classes. I won't even lend books to my mother any more because I know she would break their bindings and bend their pages.
It doesn't bother me that my mom and dad tell me I'm obsessive or nuts about my books. I figure you've got to have one thing in your life that your willing to get called nuts over.
Just reading these comments with huge pleasure, and just saw your reference to Colette: "Any lover of fiction who doesn't love Colette isn't up to speed." OMG - it's official.
I love you.
Speaking of authors not frequently mentioned in this space, way to drop a quote from Woolf into your review of "A Serious Man." Woolf is one of my favorite authors, so I got all excited trying to think of where that's from, only to realize that it's probably from one of the two things I've yet to buy of her's: The diary's and the letters. Do you happen to know, or was it just a quote you picked up in passing?
Now I want to plunge back into The Waves. What a tremendous book.
Ebert: Letters.
Someday, I suspect, there will be an uninterrupted block of time when I can sit down with one of the many dusty, all-but-forgotten books I've accumulated over the years. But then new books come out. As if distracted by a shiny object, I gravitate to the new arrival, whatever it may be (this week it's Mad Archives Vol. 1 and Paul Schrader's book on Bresson, Ozu and Dreyer), and whatever old book had been calling to me from its home on a back shelf is momentarily forgotten. Then will come newer arrivals, and Harvey Kurtzman and Schrader will be shunted aside. And then there are the library books -- Chris Hedges' Empire of Illusion sits patiently, waiting. This is not even to speak of the hundreds of yet-to-be-watched DVDs whining piteously for my attention, or the many unheard albums on my iTunes.
The answer, of course, is an elastic hour, a pocket of each day where time has no meaning and one can start A la recherche du temps perdu at 7:00 and finish it by 8:00.
I'm so glad to know I'm not the only person who compulsively buys books which I have not only already read, but already own! I have probably 7 copies of Wuthering Heights, including my Norton Critical edition with my lecture notes written on the fronts pages -I was 9 months pregnant with my daughter and taking my senior seminar on Hawthorne and the Brontes. I went into labor during class and optimistically brought the book along with me to the hospital. I also have an old 25 cent paperback copy that was my Mom's with a bodice ripper style picture on the cover. It's falling apart, but it's the first copy I read, and I can't throw it away. I have copies I purchased for the illustrations, and some just because they felt right in my hands. There's my little paperback copy of Treasure Island that I have only to pick up and remember the summer I was ten and read it for the first time curled up on our front porch drinking glass after glass of koolaid and eating popsicles, and stopping only to go to the pool in the afternoons, and my childhood volumes of Grimm's and Anderson's fairy tales. Old books are definately the best. They feel and smell better, and they carry traces of their previous owners. I have a used copy of Betty Mahmoody's "Not Without My Daughter," and on the inside cover someone wrote, "I know you feel trapped but you are not, Love Dad." Every time I glance at the book on my shelves, I wonder who she was, and if everything turned out ok. I have moved 8 times in the past 10 years and each time I have to move boxes and boxes of books, but it's worth it, I could never part with them. The best thing in the world is a day with nothing to do but read. You should have a bowl of apples and some candy bars at hand, be near an open window, and have a cat or two within petting distances.
Thanks for the post and letting me chime in!
Ebert: Those bloody Norton critical editions!
Regarding books:
I've read few books, and [dis]liked fewer; two watershed readings:
The Old Man And The Sea
The Hobbit, or There And Back Again
Spent some time googling Black & Radner. For those of you who haven't time to study it, this may sum up what happened at the Sun-Times:
http://www.salon.com/comics/boll/2009/09/24/boll/index.html
A Film Critic's Windy City Home
Interviews by EDWARD LEWINE
Published: February 13, 2005
Just one of several interesting and amusing quotes... :)
"Topic he adores but won't discuss at a party: Darwinism. I really believe Darwin and his followers more or less have accounted for much of what we see when we open our eyes each day. I think that is miraculous, but my wife says I bore people with it." - Roger Ebert
http://www.nytimes.com/2005/02/13/magazine/13DOMAINS.html?_r=1
But that's not why I'm sharing it with readers! There's a picture of Roger's office - and his some of his books - and a painting above his desk! Shopper's Corner? I'm guessing that street sign is for "State Street" in Champaign IL...?
It also looks pretty tidy in there, Roger! I confess, I expected more clutter. True; it was back in 2005. And do you really do this...?
Household item he's most fastidious about: "Alphabetizing my videos. I have to police what gets onto the shelf. I put them in two categories: "Really Good Movies" and "Other Movies." - Roger
Not that there's anything wrong about being anal, of course! I fixed your alert sign graphic because it was bugging me, so... :)
And that's a pretty cool typewriter you've got there! I wouldn't want to part with it either, as she's a beauty! And I like that old-fashioned clock face with the roman numerals - it reads 2:55 pm. That's neat.
Now, most people would probably see that photo of Roger's office, and try and read all the names of his books. Me? I'm doing a major recon!
1. No toys or collectibles
2. Something red and blue with yellow next to his laptop "could" be a toy
3. He's got an Mac G5 under the desk, on the right side.
4. The wood is either Pine or Beech.
5. Next to the clock, under the lamp's shade, is something blue, maybe a box or square tin, with white writing on it; curious - what could it be??
6. I can see his flat screen monitor but I can't make out the website.
Chuckle; we should a play a game! Guess what's on Roger Ebert's book shelf!
P.S. above Roger on the shelf, are some CD's. As is it just me, but in the photo, does looks like he's balancing them on his head? :)
Ebert: You saucy devil!
I now have a third DVD category: The Pantheon.
Ebert: It is clear from these comments that a great many readers value Stephen King.
I remember one late night lying across a futon couch in a trailer across from my father, he reading his book and me reading mine. It was Pet Sematary, an old paperback copy that once belonged to my uncle from when the book was relatively new. The book was the same copy of book my sister had read (in one night, she told me) and on this night I finished it, looked over at my father and said "You know, they could just rename this freaky ass book and be done with it." The book now sits on my shelf, every word having literally been read, including the reviews at the front, and I cherish it. It may not be the deepest or the best-written novel I have ever read, but it is one of my favorites; I have it set up on the shelf with Fight Club, Rosemary's Baby, Perfume The Story of a Murderer, Harry Potter and even Calvin and Hobbes. These are just a few of my favorites, they may not be the most celebrated or debated, but I love them all.
As a Comparative Literature student, I cannot stop smiling while reading your blog. I find my position somewhat similar to the one you had in college. My room has been compared with a cell; it has bars on the windows, its walls are painted navy, the only light comes from my closet. And it is almost like a prison, but doesn't shield me from the world: it shields the world from me. In it I have escaped the tedium of routine; I have laughed with Vonnegut and cried with Hemingway; I have felt profoundly Hesse's angst and envied Borges' wisdom; sailed the seas with Melville and lived through a hundred years of pleasant solitude with García Marquez.
I accept that Literature is the most useless of all things on earth. Its main purpose is to deliver us from boredom, not to make us more productive beings or better society. However, I find that to me, being illiterate would be almost as bad as being blind. O, the great times I've had with this superfluous objects of paper!
A wise man (who owns a bookstore) once wrote that there are two things in life: books, and everything else.
I, too, find it hard to get rid of my books, even ones that I read and disliked--who knows if I might change my mind when I pick it up again in a few years? I occasionally get rid of some at the bookstore, but then I wind up leaving the store with at least as many as I came in with.
I'm moving to the other side of the planet in March, and will be carrying three suitcases: one with a few changes of clothes, toiletries, and a laptop, and the other two with 40 books each.
By the way Roger, if you're ever in Eastern Connecticut, check out the Book Barn in Niantic. It's kind of like 50,000 Books in El Cajon, except four or five times larger. (I'd say it's like The Strand in NYC, but the employees at the Book Barn are far too polite to insult them like that.)
http://www.city-journal.org/2009/eon0212wo.html
By Walter Olson
The New Book Banning
Children’s books burn, courtesy of the federal government.
12 February 2009
It’s hard to believe, but true: under a law Congress passed last year aimed at regulating hazards in children’s products, the federal government has now advised that children’s books published before 1985 should not be considered safe and may in many cases be unlawful to sell or distribute. Merchants, thrift stores, and booksellers may be at risk if they sell older volumes, or even give them away, without first subjecting them to testing—at prohibitive expense. Many used-book sellers, consignment stores, Goodwill outlets, and the like have accordingly begun to refuse new donations of pre-1985 volumes, yank existing ones off their shelves, and in some cases discard them en masse.
The problem is the Consumer Product Safety Improvement Act of 2008 (CPSIA), passed by Congress last summer after the panic over lead paint on toys from China. Among its other provisions, CPSIA imposed tough new limits on lead in any products intended for use by children aged 12 or under, and made those limits retroactive: that is, goods manufactured before the law passed cannot be sold on the used market (even in garage sales or on eBay) if they don’t conform. The law has hit thrift stores particularly hard, since many children’s products have long included lead-containing (if harmless) components: zippers, snaps, and clasps on garments and backpacks; skateboards, bicycles, and countless other products containing metal alloy; rhinestones and beads in decorations; and so forth. Combine this measure with a new ban (also retroactive) on playthings and child-care articles that contain plastic-softening chemicals known as phthalates, and suddenly tens of millions of commonly encountered children’s items have become unlawful to resell, presumably destined for landfills when their owners discard them. Penalties under the law are strict and can include $100,000 fines and prison time, regardless of whether any child is harmed.
Not until 1985 did it become unlawful to use lead pigments in the inks, dyes, and paints used in children’s books. Before then—and perhaps particularly in the great age of children’s-book illustration that lasted through the early twentieth century—the use of such pigments was not uncommon, and testing can still detect lead residues in books today. This doesn’t mean that the books pose any hazard to children. While lead poisoning from other sources, such as paint in old houses, remains a serious public health problem in some communities, no one seems to have been able to produce a single instance in which an American child has been made ill by the lead in old book illustrations—not surprisingly, since unlike poorly maintained wall paint, book pigments do not tend to flake off in large lead-laden chips for toddlers to put into their mouths.
At any rate, CPSIA’s major provisions went into effect on February 10. The day before, the Consumer Product Safety Commission (CPSC) published guidelines telling thrift stores, as well as other resellers and distributors of used goods, what they could safely keep selling and what they should consider rejecting or subjecting to (expensive) lead testing. Confirming earlier reports, the document advised that only “ordinary” children’s books (that is, made entirely of paper, with no toylike plastic or metal elements) printed after 1985 could be placed in the safe category. Older books were pointedly left off the safe list; the commission did allow an exception for vintage collectibles whose age, price, or rarity suggested that they would most likely be used by adult collectors, rather than given to children.
Since the law became effective the very next day, there was no time to waste in putting this advice into practice. A commenter at Etsy, the large handicrafts and vintage-goods site, observed how things worked at one store:
"I just came back from my local thrift store with tears in my eyes! I watched as boxes and boxes of children’s books were thrown into the garbage! Today was the deadline and I just can’t believe it! Every book they had on the shelves prior to 1985 was destroyed! I managed to grab a 1967 edition of “The Outsiders” from the top of the box, but so many!"
People who deal in children’s books for a livelihood now face unpleasant choices. Valerie Jacobsen of Clinton, Wisconsin, who owns a small used-book store and has sold over the Internet since 1995, commented at my blog, Overlawyered: “Our bookstore is the sole means of income for our family, and we currently have over 7,000 books catalogued. In our children’s department, 35 percent of our picture books and 65 percent of our chapter books were printed before 1985.” Jacobsen has contacted the CPSC and her congressional representatives for guidance, but to no avail. “We cannot simply discard a wealth of our culture’s nineteenth and twentieth children’s literature over this,” she writes. She remains defiant, if wary: “I was willing to resist the censorship of 1984 and the Fire Department of Fahrenheit 451 long before I became a bookseller, so I’d love to run a black market in quality children’s books—but at the same time it’s not like the CPSC has never destroyed a small, harmless company before.”
Jacobsen also worries that any temporary forbearance on the part of the CPSC, which has said that it does not plan a reseller crackdown any time soon in the absence of evidence of risk, could be abrogated without notice in the future. For one thing, new commissioners appointed by the Obama administration are expected to show less sympathy in regulating business than the current commission. In addition, the 50 state attorneys general have been empowered to enforce the law on their own, and frequently take much more aggressive legal positions than those of the federal government, sometimes teaming with private lawyers who capture a share of fines imposed.
Seizing on the “collectible” loophole, commenter Carol Baicker-McKee declared: “If nothing happens to change this law soon, I promise I will spend whatever money and devote whatever space I can to buying up these older books. I’ll be happy to label myself a collector (and I’m subversive enough to leave the books lying around where kids might ‘accidentally’ read them).” But this strategy, aside from its overtones of furtive evasion, will provide limited legal help to sellers. Under the law, they’re liable if their products will commonly be understood as intended for children’s use, even if not labeled as such.
A further question is what to do about public libraries, which daily expose children under 12 to pre-1985 editions of Anne of Green Gables, Beatrix Potter, Baden-Powell’s scouting guides, and other deadly hazards. The blogger Design Loft carefully examines some of the costs of CPSIA-proofing pre-1985 library holdings; they are, not surprisingly, utterly prohibitive. The American Library Association spent months warning about the law’s implications, but its concerns fell on deaf ears in Congress (which, in this week’s stimulus bill, refused to consider an amendment by Republican senator Jim DeMint to reform CPSIA). The ALA now apparently intends to take the position that the law does not apply to libraries unless it hears otherwise. One can hardly blame it for this stance, but it’s far from clear that it will prevail. For one thing, the law bans the “distribution” of forbidden items, whether or not for profit. In addition, most libraries regularly raise money through book sales, and will now need to consider excluding older children’s titles from those sales. One CPSC commissioner, Thomas Moore, has already called for libraries to “sequester” some undefinedly large fraction of pre-1985 books until more is known about their risks.
The threat to old books has surfaced so quickly in recent weeks that the elite press still seems unaware of it. The wider pattern of CPSIA’s disruptive irrationality and threat to small businesses has been covered reasonably well by the local press around the country. Some papers have investigated particular aspects of the law—the Los Angeles Times has tracked its menace to the garment industry, and the Washington Post and Wall Street Journal the general plight of thrift stores—but almost no one has cared to consider the law’s broad array of unintended consequences, let alone ask what went wrong in the near-unanimous rush to passage of this feel-good law.
The New York Times, which last year vigorously cheered the passage of CPSIA in both its news and editorial columns, occupies a class by itself in almost completely ignoring the law’s wrenching effects as its effective date has arrived. The Times used to cover the book business, as well as apparel, retailing, and product design, to name a few of the sectors hit hard by CPSIA. Yet the paper has remained entirely silent on the law in recent weeks, aside from one brief wire-service item and a post on the paper’s automotive blog, Wheels, about the law’s effect on children’s dirt bikes (now forced off the market). On Wednesday, the Times ran an editorial solemnly condemning “book banning”; on inspection, the editorial turned out to praise an ACLU lawsuit against a school district that had removed a library book from the shelves because of its allegedly over-favorable view of Castro’s Cuba. In any wider and more systematic prospect of book banning, the paper has shown no interest.
Whatever the future of new media may hold, ours will be a poorer world if we begin to lose (or “sequester” from children) the millions of books published before our own era. They serve as a path into history, literature, and imagination for kids everywhere. They link the generations by enabling parents to pass on the stories and discoveries in which they delighted as children. Their illustrations open up worlds far removed from what kids are likely to see on the video or TV screen. Could we really be on the verge of losing all of this? And if this is what government protection of our kids means, shouldn’t we be thinking instead about protecting our kids from the government?
Walter Olson is a senior fellow at the Manhattan Institute and has covered CPSIA in depth at his blog, Overlawyered.
A library of read books is like waking hungry in the middle of the night, only to find a refrigerator empty of already eaten food...
Ebert: You saucy devil!
I now have a third DVD category: The Pantheon.
"the generic term pantheon may be applied to any building in which illustrious dead are honored or buried." - wiki
Chuckle!
I was just looking around and one click led to another and suddenly - poof, I was in your house. :)
Smile.
And what is that little blue box near the clock and lamp?? There's a picture on the box, it looks like a Mac Classic SE 30 - but that can't be right? It's the size of a small tea box.
Oh this is gonna bug me now!
Ebert: This will disappoint you. It's just a little blue box with a painting on it.
As a high school librarian, it pleases me to no end to know that one of my idols and role models is an avid reader. Books get a bad rap, especially in this day and age and librarians need all the help they can get to promote reading. Some of the best moments of my life have come from things like having a kid come in and say "I hate reading but need a book for english class" and I recommend something and then 3 weeks or so later they return and say "that book was so good, I can't believe I finished it!" They're proud of themselves for actually reading, I'm proud of them too....its hard to describe. I started reading when I was 3, practically self teaching myself, because my parents read to me often, but in my little world, it wasn't enough. So I would grab a book and try to read it myself so that I could have stories all the time. By the time I was in 1st grade, at 7 years old, I was reading and spelling at a 10th grade (15-16 year old) level, and my elementary school had a contest to see who could read 100 books. I was the first to do so, and ended up reading the most as well. Other kids read 100 also, but I had the most total. I was an every day visitor to a library, either my elementary one or our towns public. My reading trends continued all through my life until one day, unemployed and damn near broke, I applied to be a part time librarian at our public library. Since I was a familiar face, they knew me well and I was hired. It never became full time, because I substitute taught during the days, and the 2 jobs eventually melded together into this gig, and I've never looked back.
Everything I have and know in my life, literally, I owe to books.
Thanks, Mr. Ebert.
I know that posting twice is being greedy but reading all of these great posts reminds me of a memory from childhood, and I am sure many of the other posters will remember sitting on a rainy day reading a favorite book (for me it was the Biography of Amelia Earhardt) and just losing yourself for hours. Someone once said it was a form of self hypnosis but I felt like I had really traveled to Kansas back at the turn of the century and was experiencing Amelia's childhood with her....Maybe that's why we all love to read, and I know this has been said before, but maybe its because it takes us places we have never been before and experiencing them by reading is better than really going there.
Ebert: "Many of our troubles stem from Conrad Black and David Radler. Google them for a look at crime among the upper classes."
Having said that, Roger, can Black's biographies of Roosevelt or Nixon be found anywhere on your shelves?
Ebert: Roosevelt. The man can write a book.
In 1986, I was living alone in a mobile home with about 1,000 books. When I went away overnight, burglars broke in (childishly easy in a mobile home), stole my crappy tv and crappier stereo, and torched the place. Some of the books they destroyed, if I still had them, would be worth more than the items they stole. I'm thinking they weren't big readers.
Ebert: It is clear from these comments that a great many readers value Stephen King.
King is a great storyteller. His novels are often hit-or-miss, and I tend to prefer his non-horror ones (The Eyes of the Dragon, for instance, is a great classic fantasy story). His short stories, however, tend to be very good. As for On Writing, it is probably the best book on the subject (doubling up as a very interesting memoir).
I see now why I wasn't here last February, Roger. There'd be 444 postings beneath your Blackie Come Home essay instead of 222; the rest from me. You'd written it just as our 2 dogs were both dying of old age. The female Great Pyrenees and the male Queensland mutt had once fended of a mountain lion that had killed her sister, many other adventures, and the Great Pyrenees talked a little. One morning she came in, found us still sleeping, and said clear as a bell, "holy cow!" She was an 180 pound robo-dog who'd prance like a puppy for her piggy-ear every morning. A big fuzzy white lover of children. You, sir, need a dog. I've heard they can be prescribed.
Yeah, Conrad Black can write. And steal. That's a philosophical problem.
From the posters: the day I saw Gore Vidal admit on TV he was a slow reader, I breathed easier. We are force-fed too much in college. I see more comments about MOBY DICK. My lit prof advised us to read it again after age 30. I wrote her a thank-you 25 years later. TYPEE and OMOO slam-bangers even now, but "Moby" an adventure of the American soul.
Yep, me and Ghandi. I've got 5 books on my toilet tank right now. I think 3 of them have been out of print for some time. The only book not falling apart is a trade-paperback volume of Johnson. Only a moron would consider speed-reading that.
One is a Biography of Bierce, which I'm going over slowly. Have run across tales of more than one 19th C. Conrad Black, long before the notorious Hearst. He tended to skin their hides when he found out. Haven't followed the Sun-Times story, but I'd hope there was such a people-skinner on that paper like Bierce was. I fear not, however. PS my late mentor suspected that someone at Norton is also skimming off the top.
Ebert: Melville's Pierre is a less-known, peculiar work, intriguing. It inspired the very strange film Pola X.
Once again Roger gives voice to something many of us feel, and as Emerson says it is as if our own thoughts come back to us but with a certain alienated majesty.
I'm teaching a six-credit course for (mostly) English majors again this semester, and as always I try to make them think about reading itself, the idea and the act of it. That may seem obvious, but I find students are so accustomed to thinking of literature as something to do something with -- namely analyze and write an essay about -- that they often forget that voluntary readers (those not forced to read for professional or institutional reasons) do not read to do something to a text, but because the text does something to them.
The first book I have my students read is Alberto Manguel's A History of Reading. Sounds dry, right? Hardly. It's an extraordinary book, considering reading from all possible angles. There are chapters on how the book developed as an object, the change from reading aloud to reading silently (students are shocked to find out most reading was aloud for most of human history), translation, books as memory, books in education, censorship, book collectors, book thieves, being read to, and so on. But, damn it, I'm not describing the book at all well. Roger, you'd appreciate a chapter that Manguel bookends with Colette (with two pictures, as a young woman and celebrating her 80th birthday). Manguel has read more than seems humanly possible, and he uses quotations and anecdotes from everyone from Cicero and Augustine and Petrarch and Abelard to Borges.
I should mention that when Manguel was sixteen, he worked in a bookstore where Borges shopped. (He describes him coming in with his mother.) Before long, Borges hired Manguel to read to him. When I first read that, I felt the most envy I have ever felt. To be sixteen and to be reading to Borges, who then comments on everything you read, not to you, really, but to himself in such a way that you can overhear -- are you kidding me? How could one not become a lover of books after that?
Here is an excerpt that shows what a graceful and enchanting writer Manguel is:
"Something in the relationship between book and reader is recognized as wise and fruitful, but it is also seen as disdainfully exclusive and excluding, perhaps because the image of the individual curled up in a corner, seemingly oblivious to the grumblings of the world, suggests impenetrable privacy and a selfish eye and singular secretive action. ('Go out and live!' my mother would say when she saw me reading, as if my silent activity contradicted her sense of what it meant to be alive.) The popular fear of what a reader might do among the pages of a book is like the ageless fear men have of what women might do in the secret places of their body, and of what witches and alchemists might do in the dark behind locked doors. Ivory, according to Virgil, is the material out of which the Gate of False Dreams is made; according to Saint-Beuve, it is also the material out of which is made the reader's tower."
Sigh. I, too, remember the distant relative who threatened to rip a book out of my hands (and maybe destroy it? yes! I remember -- destroy it!) if I didn't go out and frolic on a 98 degree Florida summer day -- me, a red-head with a complexion somewhere between "white" and "clear" and allergy-induced asthma. No doubt he thought he meant well.
Later in the semester, I am having my students read Italo Calvino's If on a winter's night a traveler. It's a novel -- sort of -- entirely about reading. What's more, the reader of the book is the main character, and what you are trying to do is read a book called If on a winter's night a traveler by Italo Calvino. You start reading it, and just as it gets really tense and exciting, it breaks off because of some problem (a production error, for example), the book becomes the story of you trying to find the continuation of the book. Every time you think you do, it in fact is a completely different story -- but you become fascinated by that one as well. This keeps happening. Whenever I describe this to people, they say that that sounds like the most frustrating book ever. But it's not, and the effect I've found it has on real readers -- those who love reading -- is almost miraculous. Here's a taste I think many readers of this blog will identify with:
"In the shop window, you have promptly identified the cover with the title you were looking for. Following this visual trail, you have forced your way through the shop past the thick barricade of Books You Haven't Read, which were frowning at you from the tables and shelves, trying to cow you. But you know you must never allow yourself to be awed, that among them extend for acres and acres the Books You Needn't Read, the Books made for Purposes Other than Reading, Books Read Before You Open Them Since They Belong To The Category Of Books Read Before Being Written. And thus you pass the outer girdle of ramparts, but then you are attacked by the infantry of the Books That If You Had More Than One Life You Would Certainly Also Read But Unfortunately Your Days Are Numbered. With a rapid maneuver you bypass them and move into the phalanxes of the Books You Mean to Read But There Are Others You Must Read First, the Books That Are Too Expensive Now So You Will Wait Till They're Remaindered, the Books ditto When They Come Out In Paperback, Books You Can Borrow From Somebody, Books That Everybody's Read So It's As If You Read Them, Too. Eluding these assaults you come up beneath the towers of the fortress, where other troops are holding out:
the Books You've Been Planning To Read For Ages,
the Books You've Been Hunting For Years Without Success,
the Books Dealing With Something You Are Working On At The Moment,
the Books You Want To Own So They'll Be Handy Just In Case,
the Books You Could Put Aside Maybe To Read This Summer,
the Books You Need To Go With Other Books On Your Shelves,
the Books That Fill You With Sudden, Inexplicable Curiosity, Not Easily Justified.
Now you have been able to reduce the countless embattled troops to an array that is, to be sure, very large but still calculable in a finite number, but this relative relief is then undermined by the ambush of Books Read Long Ago Which It's Now Time To Reread and the Books You've Always Pretended To Read And Now It's Time To Sit Down And Really Read Them."
If you see yourself in that passage, you will love this book. By the way, it's also a love story, because in the quest for the book you meet another reader, and the book you are reading become a modern version of the Gallehault Francesca da Ramini describes in Canto V of the Inferno, leading her and her companion to become lovers. My wife just read it. Five pages from the end she said she didn't want it to end, but wondered how it could end. I said, "The ending is perfect." She knows that is not a word I use often. "Perfect, really?" A few minutes later she put the book down and with a smile of utter contentment and satiety said, "Perfect."
I reflect now that my motivations in sharing these excerpts are morally ambiguous. I should be working (grading papers) right now, or resting since I have some kind of flu at the moment, which of course gives me an excuse to indulge myself and read this blog. But perhaps some guilt has crept in for what have I done and left undone. Excerpting two glorious books for an audience of bibliophiles, some of whom confess they buy books despite lacking money for food, or even being homeless: is this not analogous to posting the latest reviews of fine wines or spirits outside an AA meeting?
Shamefully -- gleefully but shamefully -- Yours,
A proud member of the friends of Roger E., who all confess that we are powerless before the higher power that is the good book (not "the Good Book" specifically, but just any good book).
Ebert: Your students are very fortunate.
What an interesting theory, Nathan Black, about looking for hints as to your ideological orientation in the ways you feel while reading - though I'm leery of passing judgment on characters at all, because I find it necessary to attempt to read with pleasure and openness about all varieties of humanity, so as to access more and more parts of myself.
Here is perhaps another way to look for oneself in the literature, and it is certainly contained within the idea you shared: Re-read a book from your past, and simply compare the way you took it in then and the way it comes in now.
As with some other folks in here, I revisited "Moby Dick" recently, and I was astonished to find how the fifteen years between readings had cleared such a vast new path of perception and understanding. This second reading was so much richer, as I was more receptive; which is to say that I was older (I was, after all, 13 or 14 the first time around, and so surely there were distractions).
Planning a trip for Hannibal, MO, I will re-read "Huckleberry Finn" and "Tom Sawyer." What will I find?
Ebert: You will find a great book and a good one.
Try reading aloud the passage from Huck quoted here:
http://blogs.suntimes.com/ebert/2008/12/perform_a_concert_in_words.html
To parody Mr. Bulwer-Lytton: "Civilized men cannot live without books."
I have an acquaintance who adores the Kindle: he lives in a tiny apartment and has little room for the books he loves, so it addresses his storage needs perfectly. As for myself ... every home I've ever rented has been turned into a de facto library, with booksheleves in every room save the kitchen (and even cookbooks on top of the refrigerator there!)
I love the feel of books, the gentle touch they give to the hands and eyes, compared to the burning glare of a monitor. I love the experiences associated with books, though sometimes those experiences make it difficult to come back to a particular volume. (The Lord of the Rings is always welcome in part because I can hear a little of my dad's voice reading it with me; The Grapes of Wrath not so much because I can still see the English paper I was desperately cramming for.)
And re-reading? That's often one of the overlooked joys of a book. It's never the same as the first time, but sometimes it can be even better, and in almost all cases, it's like rejoining a long-absent friend. (I'm sure a film critic has no difficult understanding that.)
Long live books -- real, physical, cram-the-next-volume-in-limited-shelf-space books! May they kindle ... ah, ignite ... imagingations for many years to come.
Ebert: If Apple's forthcoming tablet incorporates Kindle, I'll try it. I refuse to purchase a substitute for the book.
Was just admiring the page size and column widths in Dawkins' new book.
Randy: How about women?
Ebert: They came and departed, and offered venues of their own.
In my university hovel, the women departed, but never came.
Ebert: Ah.
I completely understand what you are feeling and why you collect like you do. I try to resist but do have more books laying around than I want to have to my wife's annoyance. But the reason I don't collect is that after I read a good book I try to give it away to someone who I think would enjoy it. Or I give it back to the used bookstore to recirculate because an unread book in a private collection is a book someone else won't be able to enjoy. Nevertheless this is just quibble because to this geezer a book lover is a kindered spirit. Nothing but good can come of this passion.
Thank you, Roger. Let's put it this way: the students who think themselves fortunate to have me as a professor would agree with you. I'm not for everyone.
Regarding the Kindle: I don't have one yet, but one of the advantages it offers (contrary to a complaint I saw somewhere in the comments here) is a virtually limitless opportunity to gloss the text with marginal notes. Click a button and you can type in all the notes you want wherever in the text you are. This does tempt me, for two reasons:
1) In the best of circumstances, I have the handwriting of an epileptic chicken. Trying to scrawl a note into a small margin while holding open the book with one hand, especially since I almost always read without resting the book on a surface, is immensely frustrating.
2) I still feel a twinge of guilt when writing in a book. I know that's ridiculous -- they are mass-produced objects, and marginalia is one way a reader makes a book his or her own. But when I was young, books were nearly sacred objects to me. I bought them, making sure the copy I selected -- even of the cheapest sci-fi or fantasy paperback -- was perfect, without a crease in the binding or the slightest wear on a corner. And when I read, I held the book open at perhaps a 30-degree angle. Until I was in college, you could have returned any book I owned -- well, barring an unusual and deeply regretted accident -- to the store as new. Making notes in the Kindle leaves the text itself pristine.
As a teacher, the idea of having all my notes incorporated with the text itself is attractive, as is the idea that I could have damned close to every book I might possibly want to reference with me at all times.
My one concern is that there needs to be some kind of back-up function, which I'm pretty sure there is. The idea of losing that much of my own material due to a system failure or physical accident makes me a little nauseous.
One more thing: Did I read correctly that someone on this list from China has read a version of Finnegan's Wake translated into Chinese? How does one translate a book that already has puns in it based on approximately seventy different languages? How is that even possible? Can one even create portmanteau words in Chinese? I've never made it through the book; in fact, I've never gotten further than forty or fifty pages, though I made it through Ulysses well enough.
Finnegan's Wake is the product of genius, I have no doubt, but it's not a work of literature so much as a bomb thrown into the middle of the English language by a properly resentful Irishman. Hell, Joyce's protegé Samuel Beckett had to write his plays in French and then translate them into English, I think because Joyce had so ruined English for him.
Ebert: "...translated into Chinese? How does one translate a book that already has puns in it based on approximately seventy different languages? "
How do you translate it into anything?
Kindle, shmindle.
Draw a long line, and call it The Evolution of Book Technology. On the far left, put a mark, and label it 'Paper (2300-2150 BCE). Now, leave the rest of the line empty until you get to the far right. Put 'Kindle (November 2007)' on it. Then one so close to that one they appear to be the same line saying 'Kindle 2 (Feb 09)' and another even CLOSER saying 'Kindle DX'. And I daresay the next few years will appear as a SOLID BLOCK of lines.
Necessity is NOT the mother of this invention.
So I recently moved cross-country (from just outside of Daytona Beach, FL to Seattle, WA)... and I realized as I was packing that I had one backpack full of clothing, but two suitcases full of books. Somehow, that didn't bother me.
On a purely aesthetic level, I don't think I'm ever going to get a Kindle. I read eBooks, sometimes, on my computer - but they're no substitute for the feel of the paper, the rich pepper-smell of an old binding; even the stains on the pages tell stories that LCD screens or plasma displays never could. On my shelves, I have books that are four times as old as I am; I have a copy of The Prince that my father gave to me when I turned seven, and that I've read so many times that my fingertips have worn grooves into the cover; I have dozens, hundreds of books, all of which I've accumulated over the course of a few short years. I'm almost terrified to think of how many more I'll accumulate as I grow older, have an income larger than a graduate school stipend, have a space larger than a studio apartment...
On a more practical level, I have major concerns about electronic readers regarding privacy and security; see http://marketplace.publicradio.org/display/web/2009/07/24/pm-kindle/
Long-time lurker, first-time poster, blah blah blah.
I've often wanted to post but have abstained because 1) I find the discussions here intellectually intimidating, and have always feared embarrassing myself and 2) it seems that by the time I read an entry, there are already dozens to hundreds of comments, and what could I possibly add to that?
But I found this entry so heartwarming that I had to add my thanks and comments, superfluous though they may be. As someone who has been, at least nominally, an educator for the last six years, I've witnessed firsthand the decline in reading among people in general and young people in particular. It's real and it's more pronounced each semester. Now, granted, this is anecdotal and hardly scientific - one person's assessment of the students at one community college over a brief period - but I believe in it in the same way as I believe in an afterlife: With conviction in the absence of any credible evidence.
So again, thanks not only for this entry but for the ongoing and stimulating reading generated by all of your entries, and for reminding anyone who didn't know or had forgotten that in a post-modern, video-informed world, there is still a need for reading. Too bad the people who actually need that lesson will never read this.
This past summer, my family and I vacationed in San Diego to attend the comic book convention. I suspect that for them this was nothing more than a pleasant escape from Ohio, but for me it was less a trip and more a pilgrimage. While there we visited the grave of Raymond Chandler, and spent a pleasant hour reading excerpts from his novel, drinking gimlets - I'm a teetotaler, but made an exception for this - and generally enjoying the day and each other's company.
We videotaped the event and I put some clips online, and as I did so I couldn't help but think how appropriate it was to use new technology in the service of an appreciation of art from an old medium. I don't know if anyone will ever stumble across the clips and appreciate them in the same way, but it is comforting to know that sites like this "journal" can serve as virtual meeting rooms for people who appreciate cultural products of the past and present, and who do not live in some new media-created, a-temporal vacuum where the culture of five minutes ago is no longer considered relevant.
Thanks, everyone, for being here.
Ebert: Now that's the way to visit San Diego.
Ebert: Reading new Dawkins book and Powell's Dance to the Music of Time
I'm going to start ordering the latter from my library.
Quote from director Mike Figgis:
"As it happens I am re-reading Powell's 12 novel epic A DANCE TO THE MUSIC OF TIME. I first read it 25 years ago and found it stimulating and interesting. The novels chart the life of a central character from his childhood at the time of WW1 and it finishes with the character as an older man (I think in the 70's but I haven't got there yet). What struck me as fascinating was the idea that a writer could take such a long time to tell the story of a life, with all of its subtleties and nuances. It mattered not a jot to me that the character was upper middle class and educated at Eton etc. Normally I have little time for 'Brideshead' drama. But with this work it clearly was not the point.
I am now on volume 9 and enjoying the read even more than I did many years ago. It is entirely character based and the plot is secondary. Well not entirely...the plot accumulates as a result of character. Powell is a brilliant observer of character and a master of understatement."
Me again:
Character-based, yes. That's what the best movies are all about.
Ebert: It's a daunting commitment, but quite plausible because he's so readable.
Ebert: Melville's Pierre is a less-known, peculiar work, intriguing. It inspired the very strange film Pola X.
A word to this Pierre from his publisher:
"Sir:—You are a swindler. Upon the pretense of writing a popular novel for us, you have been receiving cash advances from us, while passing through our press the sheets of a blasphemous rhapsody, filched from the vile Atheists, Lucian and Voltaire."
And undoubtedly what Melville took between the lines from communications about his own more introverted works. Do you know what? I once lived in Gansevoort, New York, proud to know that it was once his Uncle Gansevoort's property. We fambly, me'n'Herm.
Will make a point to see Pola X. Enjoyed Crispin Glover's portrayal of a modern Bartleby very much. Yet Melville's short story ends with a laugh such as I've never heard before or since... like a distant, smiling major earthquake, or some cognizant whale.
Since you talked about how much you hate the idea of throwing away books, I'd like to draw your attention to this information. Last year, the U.S. government passed a law that forces used bookstores and thriftshops to throw away their children's books that were printed before 1985, because of concern about possible lead poisoning from the ink. So far, there have been exactly zero documented cases of children getting lead poisoning from such books, but facts like that are of no concern to the politicians who support this law:
Here's a news article about it:
http://www.city-journal.org/2009/eon0212wo.html
And here's the wikipedia article about it:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Consumer_Product_Safety_Improvement_Act
Lovely. Every time I move into a new place, I'm jittery and sorely vexed until I can get my books out of boxes and in the proper order. And for each of us the order is usually completely different. I amuse myself by ordering novels by order of author (sometimes), and then by order of the works that best express their themes - general or detailed. Usually I order certain shelves in the order I read the books there.
I once was the roommate of a screenwriter who has his countless volumes arranged by research subject - novel and nonfiction book alike. It's a good method, but I like a little more randomness.
For instance, it just feels right to have Scarlett Thomas's The End of Mr. Y right next to Ricky Jay's Extraordinary Exhibitions (The Wonderful Remains of an Enormous Head, The Whimsiphusicon & Death To The Savage Unitarians). I'd expect only other book freaks to truly understand. Thanks again.
Ebert: "This will disappoint you. It's just a little blue box with a painting on it."
Dude; I know it's a little box with a picture on. That's not the mystery! (Laughing!)
I'm looking at it right now (I saved the photo) and I'm able to crop and blow it up and look at stuff and everything - here, see for yourself!
http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/roger_office.jpg
NOTE: those CD's on your head were driving me insane; they are now gone. :)
Okay, so there's the little blue box - but what does the writing say, and was in it? And is that DUCK?!
Now to the far left: there's a DVD on top of your open laptop and right next to that - see the red and blue thingy? It looks like there's some yellow writing on the blue part? What is that? And next to it, another red and blue thingy and it kinda looks like a Superman Pez dispenser. As doesn't that look like a head in profile on the top part?
These are the things that keep me up at night. The not knowing. It's like a woodpecker tapping away on the side of my brain. This is how I was able to find Wordle.
It's a pathological. :)
Chuckle!
Ebert: The red and blue thingie is a Kansaa Jayhawk painted metal souvenir from Joe Sanderson's grandma, who lived next to a nudist ranch. "This" is a watercolour of San Marco, by moi. The blue box is a computer product, maybe a vacumn. Complete works of Pauline Kael starting to right of head.
Your post reminded me of a wonderful exchange from Manly Wade Wellman's Silver John novels; the final line is a statement to live by for me:
I keep a copy of your Video Guide 1995 i bought at a thrift store next to my bed for looking up late night movies
and yeah i'm a broke student who owns/borrows/begs/steals way too many books
and i know i'll need them all
Welcome to BookCrossing, where 812,954 people in over 130 countries come to share their passion for books with the world!
"BookCrossing is earth-friendly, and gives you a way to share your books, clear your shelves, and conserve precious resources at the same time. Through our own unique method of recycling reads, BookCrossers give life to books. A book registered on BookCrossing is ready for adventure.
Leave it on a park bench, a coffee shop, at a hotel on vacation. Share it with a friend or tuck it onto a bookshelf at the gym -- anywhere it might find a new reader! What happens next is up to fate, and we never know where our books might travel. Track the book's journey around the world as it is passed on from person to person."
http://www.bookcrossing.com/
Note: my friend Cheryl is a member of BookCrossings and how I first came to here of it. Currently, I've got "Eccentric Glamour: Creating an insanely more fabulous you" by Simon Doonan, whose wit is best described as sinister. :)
The book includes brief interviews with the likes of Tilda Swinton:
"The Highland Hospice charity shops that dot every village in the north of Scotland are where I live out my Miss Marple comes to Warmington-on-Sea fantasies." - Tilda Swinton
Where you like to be buried, and in what?
"In a shallow grave of sand, done up to the mines in a huge flowery chiffon dress stretched out like a sail on a beach in the Hebrides, pecked to pieces by birds." - Tilda Swinton
Here's how to find it once I've set it free again, and track its journey...
B.C.I.D 221-7214637 bookcrossing.com
Point is - there you go, eh? If you've got books and you need to get rid of them people, find a book crossing where you live! Register the books and set them free! Let them travel the world and have adventures as great as any written on their pages. :)
This is highly tangential, but will you ever post a top ten list for other fields, just so readers could fully gauge your artistic sensibility? I find there is a lot of overlap between the music someone listens to and the movies he watches, more overlapping the more detail is provided about the particulars. For example, worship of Beethoven's 9th may be connected to worship of Kurosawa's Ran -- because epicness and grandeur are worshipped. Just one example of such a useful interconnection.
So top ten albums, top ten compositions, top ten songs; top ten paintings; top ten novels, poems, philosophic essays; so on through all the major fields.
Would make the top ten movies a bit more meaningful.
I AM SURE IT WOULD MAKE A GREAT BLOG ENTRY
Roger said: " Many of our troubles stem from Conrad Black and David Radler. Google them for a look at crime among the upper classes."
I did and what a sorry, sorry saga of what plainly appear to be quite intelligent men. Well, I hope you guys figure it all out at the Sun-Times, because I'd be crushed if you were taken offline.
Tom, I saw the Tom the Dancing Bug cartoons. One word - hilarious and a little scary, in how true they are! I'm crazy. You're crazy. Everyone's crazier .. .. :)
On to happier news - first, President Theodore Roosevelt, then President Woodrow Wilson and now, President Barack Obama, the only sitting U.S. Presidents to be awarded this honour of honours. Many, many congratulations America. Interestingly, all three recipients centre left, dazzlingly intelligent, progressive and very open minded, two of which studied at Harvard and one at Princeton. Take that "Joe Six Pack/Joe The Plumber/Joe..ad nauseam.." the world needs more and better educated people.
TO DETRACTORS - "A Taliban spokesman in Afghanistan has condemned President Barack Obama's winning of the Nobel Peace Prize."
Associated Press
Just saying..
More good books for everyone, whatever shape or form they come in.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. Letterman should make this the No.1 reason for not reading the widely expected to be third-rate, ghost-written Sarah Palin memoirs.
Ebert: Mister Limbaugh says, "We agree with the Taliban on this."
What would his recation be if Obama said, "I agee with the Taliban that there are seven days in a week?
After looking up the names of the books and ordering the first from the library, I realized that the name of this blog is from "Books Do Furnish A Room", from Powell, the 10th volume in "A Dance to the Music of Time."
Ebert: There you go.
There is so much wonderful stuff in these comments that I had to make a new folder, Ebert Book People. Links and lists and blogs, oh my.
A treasure trove. Thank you all.
I love books and reading so much. Books are such a huge part of my life that I really can't imagine what I would do with my time without them. And nothing gives me more pleasure that looking around my house and seeing every corner filled with books!
It makes me somewhat sad when I think about how few people I know that are my age (25) who love to read. I feel like parents aren't really encouraging reading anymore and that kids feel like it is just a chore. Personally I don't know how I would have gotten through my childhood without books to keep me happy.
I recently visited the home of a friend's parents in Germany, where two of the four walls were covered with shelves packed full of books in both English and German. I don't know too much German, but I could see that the English books were some of the best books ever written; I knew after a few minutes inspecting the contents that I would get along wonderfully with the people that put them there. Finding a bookshelf in somebody's home is like having their personality explained to you by a psychologist.
Also: it's always nice to see somebody promoting the use of Hobnobs. I can't think of many combinations better than a free afternoon, a good book, and a pack of Hobnobs (chocolate or otherwise).
Thanks for your wonderful writing.
"Even a bad book is still a book, and therefore sacred."
-Gabriel Garcia Marquez from One Hundred Years of Solitude.
I have hundreds of old copies of Theatre Arts magazine I inherited from my grandmother. I have 1801 editions of Shakespeare. I have a ratty 1921 version of the complete works of Poe which I picked up at a thrift store for $.50. I have a Bartlett's. I have large, heavy, ungainly books that are impracticle to read.
I cherish every last one of these, even though they take up a huge amount of room. My videos and music and books are dear to me. I reject the digitizing of media. A Kindle will never shine in the sunlight, smell like history, have the subtle life of printing on paper under my fingertips.
My Kindle may not smell as delicious as my books or look as pretty on my shelves, but I cannot read my books while keeping my hands warm with a cup of tea or under the covers. I can with my Kindle. I can also read while lying on my side...a true feat with a book and one that often involves a stiff neck. My favorite "complaint" about the Kindle is that it requires ambient light. Yes, just like a book. That's why it does not strain the eyes any more than a book would.
My greatest regret so far is that I don't read more (I'm only 25, so I'm sure it can be rectified). I love reading. I am invariably a better writer when I'm reading something, though I have to be careful as I am sometimes a sponge of what I read and that's not always compatible with whatever it is I'm writing. I was reading Truman Capote's "In Cold Blood" at the same time I was writing a semi-autobiographical short story about my quarterlife crisis; I suspect the coldly, meticulously descriptive style I absorbed is one of the reasons the story turned into mush. But I digress.
The reason I don't read more is that I read slowly. Always have. I was an English major in college, but I don't think I completed a single novel (I fared better at short stories and plays). That I graduated summa cum laude is evidence that I am a good enough writer to fake being a good enough reader. My attention span is kinda short -- I confess I am a cliche of the TV/internet generation. And I'm a little compulsive, so if my attention wavers I tend re-read a sentence three or four times to make sure I get the gist, and the more times I re-read something, the more I'm focused on focusing and the less I actually grasp.
I would ask if there's some kind of rehab for people like me, but it probably involves me turning off my computer for a week. Last year my old computer broke down and I needed a new one. I did more reading in the couple of weeks between computers than I usually do in several months. I suppose I should give myself some credit: a large amount of what I do online is read -- film and TV reviews, columns, commentary, some news, hopefully most of it substantive.
I hesitate to pick up a book because I know doing so is to undertake a commitment of typically two months or more. A couple of months back I finished Cormac McCarthy's "The Road" (my first ever McCarthy novel), and I've been in limbo trying to decide what to read next. Maybe not a novel. Maybe I'll jump back into the Edgar Allan Poe collection I bought for a class in college. Or I'll finally crack open the massive Pauline Kael volume "For Keeps," which I found in the Strand used book store in Lower Manhattan; I don't plan to read it cover to cover or I'll be at it for the next year and a half, but where to start?
Decisions, decisions ...
@Seongyong Cho
I regard Blood Meridian as the best piece of fiction that I have ever read. I wish you the best of luck reading it -- it is not a simple or an easy read.
Roger said: "Mister Limbaugh says, "We agree with the Taliban on this." What would his recation be if Obama said, "I agee with the Taliban that there are seven days in a week?"
Smiles inwardly and then cringes at the thought of what Mr. Limabugh actually might say. Mr. Limbaugh is apparently lacking in the intelligence of the primordial ooze which purportedly was once ancestor to us all. Mr. Limbaugh might just be so stupid, that he does not realise that this is one of the most prestigious awards as can be offered to and received by anyone. That Mr. Limbaugh cannot see that this is a moment for all Americans to be proud of, shows that he might be devolving into a cretin, if he was'nt already one to begin with. If an Indian is awarded the Nobel prize in any area, even ordinary citizens have parties, as people of such modest means as us can do, but we celebrate one of us being recognised for his/her contribution to humanity. Mr. Limbaugh can go suck a lemon. How he and his kind can not see that theirs is another in a long list of very bad cases of very sour grapes and that if they focus on the reason for such, instead of attempting to shamelessly demean the great accomplishments of others, perhaps they too could achieve similar success, is almost entirely beyond me.
Many congratulations Roger and many congratulations America, Mr. Barack Obama has done you proud and proud is what you all should be and trying to help him with his ambitious plans and his high morals, because it lookd like he has some tough times and tougher decisions ahead of him. On behalf of the Indians I know and assume can speak for, once again, felicitations and congratulations.
xOxOxOxO Americans, even those that don't agree with me.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Ebert: You don't understand. Some of these people consider peace a liberal plot.
Re: Brad Hoenke- books are not collections of papers and words, but a connection to the past and other human beings...a book is more than words, if kindle-like devices ever take off, we will be the poorer for it.
Your thoughtful comments brought me back, among other things, to the "The Road," which I recently finished. As you I'm sure know, but for those few that may not,it is a grim, but cautionary tale By Cormac McCarthy. His is a nightmare world, where no one would ever want to be. A hellish place where History itself had been lobotomized from the minds of most of its wretched inhabitants. Where books have been almost entirely reduced to their simplest denominator- their worth as kindling for these unfortunates as they strive for nothing more than to stave off freezing to death. To somehow survive the cruel night and maybe live another day-at whatever cost.
Searched out and found this passage that had lingered with me. McCarthy's possibly last good guy on earth remembers:
"...he'd stood in the charred ruins of a library where blackened books lay in pools of water. Shelves tipped over. Some rage at the lies arranged in their thousands-row on row. He'd not have thought the value of the smallest thing predicated on a world to come. It surprised him. That the space which these things occupied was itself an expectation. He let the book fall and took a last look around and made his way out into the cold gray light."
Then I found another line that had been gnawing at me-the good man thinking of his beloved son:
"...that if he could only rekindle in the heart of the child what was ashes in his own."
But how could I tie this together into anything approaching a meaningful post? I returned to your comments once again. Googled Aldus Society. There it was! This Clarence Day quote on the homepage:
"The world of books is the most remarkable creation of man. Nothing else that he builds ever lasts. Monuments fall; nations perish; civilizations grow old and die out; and, after an era of darkness, new races build others. But in the world of books are volumes that have seen this happen again and again, and yet live on, still young, still as fresh as the day they were written, still telling men's hearts of heart's century old."
If the time ever comes when the pages of books are ever completely reduced to simply devices for combustion, we most assuredly have reached the end of the road. As we approach an always uncertain future, we must remain diligent so that day never arrives.
Thank you, Mr. Hoenke.
Marie: Have you figured out what's on Roger's flatscreen yet?
It's his own webpage, circa 2005: http://web.archive.org/web/20050122040003/rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/frontpage
Roger: Something compelled me to pick up Chabon's "Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay" after an earlier, failed attempt at reading it (don't ask why--it was probably that something else in the pile of books in my room looked more interesting at that particular moment). You should definitely re-read it. Chabon's prose is tireless.
And speaking of Melville, have you read Billy Budd? I know he never technically finished it, but it's my favorite of his that I've gotten around to thus far. Then again, I haven't read Moby Dick since I was 10, trying to get a rise out of the librarian in charge of the summer reading program. The opera, with its libretto by E.M. Forster, was one of the first I saw that convinced me that opera was worthwhile. I think it's a Britten. There's a DVD by the BBC that is very good.
I understand a deep love of books. We moved a lot when I was a kid because my dad was in the Navy. We packed up boxes and boxes of books and shipped them back and forth across the country. But the main reason I love books is to read them, and that's why I love my Kindle. It's not the be-all and end-all of eReaders. There will be better eReaders very soon-- color e-ink, sturdier, cheaper, less constricted as to format-- but in the meantime I have my Kindle in my purse. Those annoying and often unexpected pauses in life-- half an hour waiting at the bank, sitting in the car while my husband spends 20 minutes picking out a six pack of beer, the doctor visit that stretches to an hour and a half because they had an emergency-- those are no longer annoyances. They are now reading opportunities.
Nor do I have to keep track of where I put the book I'm reading or the one I plan to read after that. I can sort by title, by author, by when I opened the book last. I can search the text, make annotations, and set bookmarks. I can get a free sample before I buy the book, to see if I like it, and buy it from pretty much anywhere. My Kindle might not shine in the sunlight, b ut the screen is perfectly readable outside-- unlike my LCD netbook. And if the story is any good, after a few minutes I don't notice where I am or what I'm holding in my hand because I'm lost in the book.
I love books for what's in them much more than what they're on.
Ebert: "The red and blue thingie is a Kansaa Jayhawk painted metal souvenir from Joe Sanderson's grandma, who lived next to a nudist ranch. "This" is a watercolour of San Marco, by moi. The blue box is a computer product, maybe a vacuum. Complete works of Pauline Kael starting to right of head."
Ah HAH! See?!
Books can reveal a great about their owners, but so too, the many things they surrounded themselves with; each object, no matter how tiny, a potential "clue" - smile. :)
And do you realize that's as close as anyone has ever got to seeing one of your little paintings..? At least I've never seen one - and don't think I haven't been snooping around looking! But so far, nada.
That said, ever wonder what would happen if you Google Image "Art" + Roger Ebert?
"Roger Ebert as a Kid"
http://www.cartoonstock.com/newscartoons/cartoonists/tbr/lowres/tbrn21l.jpg
"If Michael Bay Made Romance Movies"
http://hijinksensue.com/comics/2009-06-24-explomance.jpg
(Laughing hard!)
And I knew it! I knew there was a computer picture on that blue box! You can fool me! It's a vacuum for getting dust out of the CPU's fan, dirt on the keyboard, etc.
P.S. that's pretty cool that you got a metal Jayhawk souvenir from your friend's grandma who lives next to a nudist ranch. I've got a chunk of Carrara marble from the quarry when they cut the block for Michaelangelo's David. He was naked. David, that is.
Ebert: You googled hard enough to find a pic of my computer vacuum? And to think I felt guilty about asking you to do that Photoshopping!
Dear Mr. Ebert -
I am a 26 year old graduate student. While I love my studies (infectious disease epidemiology), I am often saddened by how little outside reading I get a chance to do. I am a notorious bookworm, and even now as the semester is in full force, new (well, used) books are brought into my house every few days, books that I won't be able to read until December.
And here is my tragic bookworm tale:
I was living in a lovely apartment in midtown Detroit. I lived on the third floor, with my cats, my cooking supplies and my books. My hundreds and hundreds of books. In bookcases, and on milk crates. Stacked in piles on the floor, strewn across the table. A few wayward piles of old magazines and journal articles, and the rented apartment had become a home.
Being that this is a tragic tale, one cold February night - Mardi Gras, actually - a resident who was being evicted decided to burn down our building instead. My apartment was directly below the one in which the fire was started. While the kitties and I all escaped just fine, I was pretty sure that my books were gone forever, and this was the only unbearable loss.
Over 800 books were lost that day, just of mine. When a friend and I got to check the place out in the weeks after, we were amused to find that my bookcases would have all been intact, if it hadn't been for the copious amounts of water pumped in, then subsequently frozen. Eight hundred books encased in a quarter inch of ice. It was something to see.
It's only been two years or so since that fire. I'm up to 100 books now. I like to think that my collecting is like a map to the past, and now mine has a large discontinuity, one that marks one of those great events that life sometimes becomes. I like this discontinuity, because it has taught me that as much I loved those books, the ideas and identities contained within them moved beyond the frozen pages.
Ebert: I still remember lost books. Some ass**** walked off with my Modern Library edition of Dos Passos' U.S.A. during a party in the 1970s, and I still miss it.
Roger said: "You don't understand. Some of these people consider peace a liberal plot."
Ohhhhhhhh .. .. right .. .. I seeee now. Duh .. silly me! LOL. They're nutters :)
Better an idiot than a nutter, eh Rog? :)
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
P.S. Marie, I dub thee best inter-web rabbit-hole spelunker! I laughed so hard at that "explomance" cartoon too :)
Ebert: You googled hard enough to find a pic of my computer vacuum? And to think I felt guilty about asking you to do that Photoshopping!
Oh, I'm not THAT crazy; laugh!
After blowing-up the photo and taking a good look around, I thought I'd recognized something on the blue box; an old Macintosh! I used to have a Mac Classic you see, this little guy...
http://www.pugo.org/media/collection/computer/apple_macintosh_se30.jpg
But that can't be right? You can't fit a computer in there, even a small one! And I dismissed it thinking I'd guessed wrong.
So when you said the blue box contained a computer product, maybe a vacuum - I knew immediately what you were talking about (computer mini-vacuum) but also that I'd actually been RIGHT!
And gosh, what sharp eyes I have. :)
P.S. I have a shelf reserved for treasures. Leather and plaster Venetian carnival masks. Perfume from Paris: L'air du Temps - Lalique. And what's left of an antique perfume bottle collection dating back to the 1890's. I've got three hand blown glass quills from Murano. And gargoyles I carried back from Paris. I have wooden tea chests from Fortnum & Masons. I have gilded Italian Tarot cards, ornate wax seals, and a replica of a gold and diamond cross seen in a painting at the Metropolitan Museum of Art; it's all fake. And a Venetian court jester's hat in tri-colored velvet with little brass bells, and also a small brass "winged lion" from San Marco, Venice. There's a little French flag I bought on Bastille Day in Paris.
And I've got an rare Daniel Smith brass watercolor box - the travel kind, so you can paint outdoors. There's a latch: it opens like a book and unfolds to reveal enameled palettes, with a paint pan, plastic water container, wells for washing and dipping your brush.
Oh, and from New York; I've got dinner plate which reads around the edge:
"The Jeckle & Hide Club: a restaurant and social club for eccentric explorers and mad scientists."
Grin.
I know, I know, super touristy - but it was also way cool! And the books on the shelf behind us when we sat, had interesting titles like "How to Embalm" and "The Greatest Serial Killers". :)
Last year was the best of my life: I decided on January 1 to spend my spare time working through the multitude of unread-but-must-read books on my shelves. By the end of January I'd finished about 17 books (and found maybe fifteen new favourites), and by December 31st, I finished my 109th book. Some of the best days were those wintry ones in July (I live in Melbourne, Australia) when I rolled out of bed and pulled my favourite chair close to the fire for the day: on several rainy Sundays I read three books each day.
By about August, I was running out of the I'll-get-to-it-one-day pile and in early October I did something I haven't done since I was ten: I joined the local library. (This doesn't usually work well for me because (a) I have to give the books back and (b) my father ran our local library when I was a child. It's hard to beat the joy of having 24 hour access to a library that's perfectly tailored to meet the needs of its readers.)
I fell in love with new authors (and out of love with one or two) and read literature, biography, history, contemporary fiction and classics. My book group took to checking in monthly to see how I was doing and my friends scored handsomely in the recommendation stakes. It was truly the best way to spend time. Of course, I didn't stop accumulating during the year, so my spare-room library is packed to the ceiling and double-shelved in many places, but that's the joy of it all.
My next challenge: all the Pulitzer and Booker Prize winners. Next year.
Ebert: I love reading next to a fire just as much as reading just out of a drizzle. I wonder what the psychological reasons are.
The Ninth Gate, ('Loved the use of engravings...)
The Marathon Man
Infamous
The Name of the Rose
Zardoz (1974)
Julia (1977)
Reds
The Razor's Edge
All the President's Men, (The Library of Congress was an impressive scene.)
Missing
Not that this is right on topic, but here's ten fair movies wherein books, writing them, or research in libraries figured important to the story.
Hello, Roger,
Thank you for writing one of your best essays! Your reviews have always reflected someone who is literate, so my thoughts have been confirmed.
Question: you don't seem to mention nonfiction works, e.g., history, biography and concentrate more on literature. In the nonfiction category, which of course is quite broad, are there any books that are special to you?
And some other poster mentioned book to film adaptations, which I don't believe you've commented on although the Telegraph had a 'best' list:
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/culture/books/books-life/6166774/25-best-book-to-film-adaptations.html
Have your read the Percy Jackson novels, the 'American' Harry Potter? Facts indicate a major shift from the book, which I always great, even understanding the tow mediums are different.
Ebert: The nonfiction book I would recommend reading right now:
Ebert: It is clear from these comments that a great many readers value Stephen King.
although mr. king doesn't know it, he and i have a "love/hate" relationship. i love his writing, but i hate his stories. lemme 'splain.
nobody (you can read one of my stories if you click the link connected to my name above) writes sentences as well as king. his structure is very conversational, and it would seem as if a friend on the next bar stool is telling you a story. for fiction, that's the best you can do, sound like natural conversation but pay attention about 99% of the time to the rules of grammar, except with dialogue. kate di camillo is great with that too. a great example of how not to write is stephanie meyer's twilight series. when king said that meyer "can't write worth a darn," i'm assuming he agrees with me that her sentences are just awful. she abuses adverbs, uses redundancies, and floats from past to present tense occasionally. i read the first two books because my daughter begged me, but i can't go any further without continuing my list of disturbingly common lines like: "he said wryly, he stared abstractedly, he asked challengingly." every line of dialogue is followed by "he or she said" followed by an overused adverb. if dialogue is written correctly, you don't need to say he "asked challengingly" because the dialogue should be able to tell you that. if not, it needs revising.
my problem with king is not in the writing but in the story itself. he proudly admits that he doesn't plot a story before writing and just makes it up as he goes along. that's like going on vacation but not having a plan as to where you're going or how you're going to get there. you just get in the car, drive, and improvise. once or twice in a lifetime that might work out well. however, it'll usually be a problem that shows up in the end of the vacation.
a good story is connected from beginning to end by a thread. there must be something continuous, something that carries you logically from each chapter to the next so that each event, twist, and turn makes sense, but you won't really see this thread unless you look backwards. events should seem like a surprise, but the must be able to retro fit to what you've read so far. if someone picks up a gun and blows someone away in the last chapter, there must be an echo that harkens back to a previous chapter and allows you to say, "oh, yeah, i should have seen that coming," or "okay, now that makes sense because back in chapter ## he..." in many king stories things just happen without rhyme, reason, or justification without any connection to anything. it feels like king sits at his computer and says, "hmmm. it would be really cool if ..." it's good if it's cool, but it has to be set up correctly. without wasting your time or getting wordy, i'll point you to his book duma key as a good example.
he also uses too many conveniences, things that happen because it seemed like it was time to wrap up the story. a good example would be the stand, in which a lunatic, possibly a satanic one, holds the country hostage with a nuclear weapon. after hundreds of pages of fabulous tension, the story is wrapped up with something that could have easily happened at any point throughout the story. i don't want to spoil it any further in case someone plans to read it.
another king-ism is his convenient use of evil without explanation. certain things will "just happen," like a ghostly skeleton with a pumpkin head springing from the trunk of an old Buick. one police officer goes into the trunk to find the sourece of these things, but he never comes back. a second follows him and sees a grassy hill, a partly cloudy sky, and a boot. other things pop out too, some disappear, some are killed, some go back, but none of them are explained. as king likes to say, it's a "manifestation of evil," meaning that evil things just happen and we don't have to even hint at an explanation. i disagree. part of the work of a writer is justifying what happens instead of conveniently stringing together random events until you think you've written enough.
when i've finished a king book, i feel as if i just had a dinner in which the salad, appetizer, drinks, and entree were all great, but the dessert sucked. will i come back? sure, because maybe next time they'll get the dessert right. even if they don't, the rest is still good enough.
Must try FINNEGAN'S WAKE again someday; did finish it, but more in the nature of an endurance contest. A friend busied himself looking up words, finding for instance a pun that relied on one's knowing the names of the tributaries of the Amazon river -- and fit beautifully.
Joyce said all one had to do was read it aloud. Now, how could we hear a pun relying on one's knowledge of Ireland, Irish society and history, the Garden of Eden, and a tributary in the Amazon by reading it aloud?
The best I could do, I still can't quite describe. Its construction was in part like those 19th C. paintings where at one squint it's an idyllic scene with trees and birds and beautiful lounging ladies, and at another, a big bearded giant. Anyone know what those are called?
The prose seemed to be a kind of mathematical coding, where the action described somehow always added up to zero. Not a derogatory zero, I mean a sort of resolve to zero from a mathematical equation of activity... one day must read again to see if I understand it any better.
Will leave it on the toilet tank, I guess. But it's not the kind of book you'll usually find in a junk store...
Maybe Joyce did what Charles Ives did. Anybody like Charles Ives' music? He'd more or less matched Mozart in composition as a college student, then went on to slamming and bamming the piano keys like a little kid -- except that his slamming and bamming the keys made a lot more musical sense when he did it than when I did.
Yeah, reading by the fire, or in the rain... I wondered too...
I've had several cats in my life who always insisted on hopping up onto whatever I was reading, sitting and purring on top of my book or papers as though basking at a fire. I wondered about that, too.
i've gone through all of the books on my shelves twice looking for a small piece of paper i tucked in one of them about 20 years ago when i was moving and wanted to keep the paper in a safe place. it's a small, white piece of paper, about 4 by 5 inches. across the top is a curly film reel and the words "siskel and ebert at the movies." i had written a letter to you asking what an unknown writer should do with a film script that i thought was really good. you wrote back, "get an agent!"
This reminds me of a story often told by my mother. At one point in her younger life, her family had reached a financial low point. When her father (my grandfather, whom I never met) couldn't afford the heating bill, he turned to his book collection as a source of fuel for the wood burning stove. She recalls the streams of tears rolling down his cheeks as he watched his beloved O. Henry burning to help keep his family warm through the winter.
Personally, I've gone through cycles of collecting and purging, and currently feel like the fewer possessions I own the happier I'll be. These days, however, I'm overrun with DVDs and I can't imagine getting rid of any of them.
I see you've been working out. That is you at http://rogerebert. suntimes.com/ beneath the Movies and More, isn't it?
Ebert: Wha?
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Just out of friendly curiosity, what is it specifically about Shakespeare, Cather, James, Colette and Simenon that puts them among your favorites? I'm not asking because I dislike those writers; I'm asking because I love them, among others. I remember in one of your previous articles you advocated Shakespeare's Hamlet for the quote "To be or not to be".
There are days when I pour endlessly over the ideas of Dostoevsky, Bulgakov, and Hugo (for rather romantic reasons as well as realistic ones, I admit), and my Dad, being an English teacher, recently recommended Orwell and Huxley, who upon looking into them have hooked me completely. I cherish these authors for their criticisms and depictions of the world, especially the depictions, and for the alternative, more peaceful practices of society some of them advocate.
I'm not sure if you asked, but I also think that all literature (or art in general, for that matter) ultimately points to one of the many questions that Hamlet asks: "What is a man?" (IV.iv.38) I know that his own response is "A beast, no more", but as true as that is, I think there's more to humanity than just its bestial aspects. Besides, Dostoevsky says: "No beast can be so cruel as a man, so artistically cruel."
You replied to Deb R "I wonder what the psychological reasons are". I think it's because settings such as a fireside or rainfall add firsthand texture to the themes we read in books and find we love. In my case, for instance, I love reading and writing on sunny, breezy spring and autumn days because I feel they add color and breath to it. Same thing with the contrast provided by the dark, grayish-blue sky and the sounds of drops hitting the asphalt on a rainy or stormy day.
Ebert: I think Richard Dawkins is an elegant writer. I love collected journalism by such as Liebling, White, Royko. Humor by Thurber, Benchley, Perelman, Barry. Biographies, English history, cosmology. Autobiographies. Boswell's journals.
If I were to recommend one nonfiction book to read right now, it would be:
http://j.mp/3WcNQV
http://grumpyoldbookman.blogspot.com/2004/09/wg-sebald-austerlitz.html
I love this post more than most that I have read, probably because I identify with your book passion. Losing a back is a horrible experience, and until now I haven't found a person who understands the horror of losing not one book, but boxes of books on different occasions, some by moving between countries, some by hurricane, some by flood, and some having been lent and never returned.
I also recognize this feeling of being perfectly content in a small space without really going anywhere, still having some books and something to write with, and on, but still happen to travel all over the world by some strange and mysterious fortunes.
I thought for a second that I might be able to help you out with the Modern Library edition of the U.S.A. trilogy, but then I looked and found that I had the Washington Press version of 1919, which is only the middle part. Then I figured that my non-existent copy of U.S.A. wouldn't have helped even if it existed, because it'd be my copy and not the one you lost.
@ Paul Arrand Rodgers -
"Marie: Have you figured out what's on Roger's flatscreen yet?"
It's his old webpage?! Oh, jeeesh - I should have thought of that! The photo was taken in 2005 - DUH! The only thing I knew for sure was that he wasn't cruising porn sites.
Although I bet you could find a dirty limericks or two, in his office. :)
Oh hey! Has anyone here checked out his Twitter page? Currently, there's a link to Grumpy Old Bookman. The first time I took a look at his twitters however, guess what I found? Yup! A dirty limerick!
That's okay though - I like Vampires; to each his crack pipe. :)
@ Indian Idiot (H.W.) -
"P.S. Marie, I dub thee best inter-web rabbit-hole spelunker! I laughed so hard at that "explomance" cartoon too :)"
Oh totally! Was that not a brilliant cartoon?! The guy's entire head just EXPLODES! And I wasn't even looking for it - I was trying to find examples of Roger's artwork; little drawings or watercolors and such. And while there's a lot of stuff out there associated with his name, it's usually a an inspired response to one of his film reviews; chuckle!
Speculation: Roger is more comfortable sharing what he knows he's good at. He's less sure about his watercolors and thus keeps from prying Canadian eyes. :)
I guess I shouldn't be too surprised by that, however. I mean, this is the same dude who was freaked out as an 8 year old by "Abbott and Costello Meet Frankenstein." (blog entry: Hooray! Hooray! The first of May!) Clearly, he's far more sensitive than folks give him credit for.
NOTE: when I re-visted that old entry, out of curiosity I scrolled to see what I'd written there: I was "complaining" that my posts were going missing - laugh! (This was before we discovered it was the evil Spam Filter!)
And Roger's over all reply?
"You're the only one who has complained. I enjoy your posts way too much to delete one. My best guess: You forgot to click on "Submit."
Now, imagine Indian Idiot, if I'd be satisfied with that? Why, we'd never have followed the clues and tracked the real culprit down! Roger would never have seen B/W photos of Urbana or found Wordle again, none of that stuff would have happened - and for being the sort of person content to think it was just "one of those things", what can you do?
Well I'll tell ya what you can do pal - you can go into full OTTER mode and leave no room unexplored....!
Pet Otters - Ferrets on Crack
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tQ_Krei6EKw
Chuckle!
Seriously, that's what I do. It looks just like that. I'll go anywhere.
I want a job doing this! I love being a snoopy ferret! Isn't there a job where you can get paid to be that persistent?!
Ebert: Surely you're not referring to this as dirty?
A pervert who screwed helpless crickets
And liked fornication with pickets
And impregnated pies
And assaulted french fries
Made his living by selling off tickets.
I absolutely hated high school, but was saved by my local public librarians who never asked any questions of the scruffy kid who showed up when school was in session. On the days I had a few dollars I'd take the bus into Boston and wander in a dusty, happy haze of joy through its many used book stores. My parents, Sam and Miriam Needle, filled our home with books and magazines. Three ways one could usually be saved from a chore: eating, napping or reading. One of the tragedies of my life was not being able to do anything with the large library of books and LPs my father desperately wanted to hand over: no room. A favorite family anecdote: my father was talking with a friend about James Joyce and how difficult it was (at the time) to get a good copy of Ulysses. "What about that copy you have in your bedroom?" I piped up. My father looked at me quizzically and asked, "I don't have a copy of that book in any room of this house." "You do!" I insisted. "Then, go get it," he said. I think I was about eleven. I raced into his bedroom and ran with the book right into the kitchen when I eagerly handed it over. Both men burst out laughing. It was a copy of a biography of Ulysses S. Grant. I have nothing against Amazon, but I'll never, never get a Kindle.
Okay, this has nothing to do with anything:
"I'm sure you've heard the old joke where Job asks the Lord why everything in his life is going wrong. Remember what the Lord replies? If you don't remember the joke, ask anyone. I can't prove it but I'm absolutely certain more than half of everyone on Earth has heard some version of that joke."
Roger, would it have killed you to just say what the punchline was? I Googled it, Yahooed it, Binged it, and STILL can't find it.
Can you just tell me? I may lose sleep the next few days if I don't know. For the sake of looking better when you see St. Peter: WHAT does God reply???
Ebert: "Because you piss me off".
Readers in India, South Koea, Taiwan, Brazil, Mexico, the UK, Turkey, South Africa, Germany...ever heard it?
Just as one who might leave the grocery with a large bag of groceries he hadn't intended to get without the Items for which he entered; I neglected mention 'The Reader' and 'Ferinheight 451'.
Aside from being 'pretty good films' both involved a demonstration of that beauty of reading aloud.
That seems a more popular format as well today. A good friend now listens to most the books he takes in while he travels.
I read often to my children. I've read everything from the Harry Potter series to Treasure Island, and honestly some books seem better for verbal reading than others.
I find I take on an English accent with Dickens and I'll be a bit like the southerner, Capote, reading In Cold Blood -- not to deliberately mock the man either; the book just takes on a certain quality when one lets go and finds the voice of the author.
I think certain flaws or rather 'vanities' become evident too, but usually it's just a real pleasure to get into a certain prose.
I'd love to listen to plays read aloud to me, and some may actually come off better, without a stage, in an informal setting anyway.
It's too bad more people don't simply read to each other, given that it's such a rich potential for high quality affordable entertainment.
Reference to: By CanInDeed on October 10, 2009 1:39 PM
Darn, I should have taken a screen shot. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to last long. There was an hilarious picture of a male body, from the knees to the neck—and most frighteningly—it was apparently a real person. What this guy had done to himself was to build his body up so that there were muscles upon muscles, upon other muscles that had muscles. I think the idea of the advert was that if you use their product you can look like that guy. But, my God, who would want to?
Hi,
I feel awkward commenting here, amongst those who so clearly know what they're talking about, my comment will only further highlight my ignorance on the many subjects discussed here, but I will barrel through anyway. I am not a well-learned person, but I will stay up all night to finish a book that enthralls me and its contents have been known to carry me through the day more than once. I didn't find this blog in relation to that love though, I'm embarrassed to say I found it through a silly website for killing time, because this is what I do with my free time, I play on sites like fark and facebook, I don't create insightful engaging blogs and then leave beautiful engaging comments to follow. I tell you this not out of some egocentric need to tell you about myself, but instead to try and let you know that what you wrote can matter immensely, does matter immensely, to even those who do not always enter the world of which you speak. In my need to kill time before bed I stumbled across an entry that, oddly enough, makes me feel safe and cozy, like I stumbled across a soothing hallway, a hidden nook that I'd forgotten to rest in for ages. So thank you:)
Ebert: You write: "I am not a well-learned person, but I will stay up all night to finish a book that enthralls me and its contents have been known to carry me through the day more than once."
That makes you well-learned in my book. In fact, a member of a very elite minority.
"Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase and Fable": Thanks for mentioning this. What other reference book can raise a laugh like it can?
"Finnegans Wake": I once made it to page 80 before I admitted to myself that I had no idea what was going on. I've had better luck with graduate mathematics textbooks than the Wake, but I hope to do better some day.
Speaking of math, if there ever was a textbook that read like poetry (at least with the necessary background), it's Walter Rudin's "Principles of Mathematical Analysis".
Stephen King: I must have read "The Long Walk" four or five times as a teenager. I still think about it a few times a year. How can King be a bad writer when he has had a lasting effect on so many of us?
Speaking of "low" fiction, I've found two (and only two) TV shows that offer an experience as exciting as reading: the original Doctor Who series and Mystery Science Theater 3000. I would be curious to know if other bibliophiles have had similar experiences with these or other programs.
If I could pass on a few recommendations, it would be these: the Landmark Editions of Herodotus and Thucydides, Heaney's translation of "Beowulf", "The Cistercian World" anthology, "Piers Plowman", "Tom Jones", "The Strategy of Conflict", "The Great War and Modern Memory", "Watchmen", "Mason & Dixon", and "Sherlock Holmes: The Hidden Years".
But the real reason I wanted to post is this: "David Copperfield" got my through my senior year of high school. By completing all of my homework the night before, I was able to devote an entire study hall to one chapter. The day I completed the novel, I felt elated for all my 'friends' and their assorted happy endings as well as bereft as to what I would do with my free time the next day.
Reading your blog reminded me fondly of this. Thanks, Roger.
one thing that ironically contributes to the downfall of books and reading is schools. a few times a year we have articulation meetings, in which the high school language arts teachers sit down with the middle school language arts teachers (that's me) and we discuss what the kids need and don't need to know when they reach high school so we in the middle school can prepare them.
in a recent meeting the h.s. yelled at us, saying we were not pushing enough "classics" because the students were not aware of certain references to literature, thus forcing the h.s. to teach certain books that, in their opinion, the kids should have already read. crap like the scarlet letter, a separate peace, and other things that everbody has read since forever.
i disagreed with them because it seemed to me that these "classic" literary pieces were so boring, so out of touch from today's world, that kids were getting turned off to reading. i told them, "hey, i'm pushing harry potter, roald dahl, jerry spinelli (every middle school kid needs to read stargirl). kids are losing touch with reading because we are losing touch with what they want to read. i told them that i just want kids to read and enjoy it. i don't care if they don't know classics. let's get them reading, and when they get older, and hopefully more mature, they'll find the classics themselves. and if they don't, who cares?
i'd much rather they read trashiest fiction than not read at all.
One of the most interesting games is trying to figure out which book a character in a film is reading and also trying to read the titles on bookshelves in movies while trying to follow the film at the same time.I think it is a interesting duel between the cinephile and bibliohile in us which takes place.I wonder how much thought goes into choosing which book goes into the hand of a character and what it reveals about the character.
Ebert: I know. I'm always trying to figure hat out. I have never once seen one of my books on the screen.
Here's me going batty about what book Emma Thompson is reading:
http://rogerebert.suntimes.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20090114/REVIEWS/901149980/1023
For myself my home is a space which accommodates the life that I lead within it. It isn't that I don't have a personal aesthetic, it is just that I tend
to choose storage potential over style. I love buying new bookshelves and
organizing them. Giving each of my beloved things their own place. Hoping
each time that there will eventually be a place for each beloved thing. I
feel a sense of contented settling within myself when I set a new book with
its siblings by the same author, or place a new dvd into my dvd case.
It is a fleeting sensation that contentment, because new stacks sprout more
frequently than new shelving. It is s Sisyphean task to try to maintain any
kind organization, but that is alright, I have accepted that a certain degree
of disorder is inevitable. Better to seek delight in disorder and develop a
disdain for minimalism.
When I was in college I couldn't resist neuropsychology
classes. There was no chance whatsoever that I would become a neuroscience
researcher, but the ideas and concepts were so powerful in their ability to
give form to my understandings. Neuroplasticity - the concept that knew
knowledge and experience build new pathways in our brains, and that we could
retina this capacity by continually seeking out new learning. Elaborative
encoding - the concept that we increase the accessibility and power of new
knowledge by actively connecting it to previous knowledge. I regarded people
as beings capable of growth, development, connection, and change,
Neuropsychology provided a conceptual framework which empirically grounded my
philosophical orientation.
I find it very powerful to know that when we learn we change
ourselves physically, intellectually, emotionally. Elaborative encoding, the
process of actively building cognitive connections is the referred to as the
mental glue that affixes a thought, memory or idea into our existing
cognitive framework. But I began to see learning and experience as the
materials from which we create and recreate ourselves.
We build the space in which we live - one idea, one connection at a time. As a renter I am limited in the degree to which I can alter my physical
surroundings. I will not be moving anytime soon, so although I really wish I
had more storage and more space for doing I will content myself as I best
can. But the mansion of the mind, our true living space, must continually
expand, reconfigure, morph. It is our own Winchester Mystery
House - if we ever stop building it we cease living. Every new space we build alters the configuration of the whole which in turn provides the framework for creating additional spaces. My books are like like a "You are here, but you have also been there" map. Or perhaps they are more like keys to the spaces that have already been built and furnished.
Regardless of the best metaphor I consider what happens between myself and a book as something ongoing, a dynamic interaction rather than a task to be accomplished and set aside. Besides sometimes you just feel the urge to revisit the particular worlds, word music, ideas characters or characters in a given book. The suggestion that a book is not worth revisiting once it is read is akin to saying you have no need to speak to a friend because you already know them.
And as for the inability to resist bookstores, and the many many unread books that I already have. Remember Silence of the Lambs? We covet what we see around us. Those voluptuously overstuffed bookshelves and teetering stacks have an seductive power that cannot be matched by a document or bookmark folder on a computer. Resist minimalism and sterility not books.
A final note. I dearly miss the conversations and camaraderie I use to enjoy in San Jose's Recycle Books. Now that I live in the Hague I don't meet many people who enjoy the same books that I do. But I have discovered Library Thing ( www.librarything.com) and now I am enjoying communicating with like minded readers again. Besides how cool that people let you snuffle through their book collections. But be prepared, those sprouting stacks? Library Thing is fertilizer
Ebert: Within a few hours, readers from the Hague and Seoul yearning for good conversation about books. In a cafe or on a train I always want to see what people are reading.
Dear Roger,
On a personal note, you, as a cancer survivor and your courage have been an inspiration to many people. I am making this post separate from my last because you may not choose to run it since it only mentions a book of alternative treatment, which may or may not be effective. I'm not a physician, just for you to consider.
Here is the link to the book by Bill Sardi:
http://www.thecancerbook.com/
Or via Amazon here:
http://www.amazon.com/gp/shops/storefront/index.html?ie=UTF8&marketplaceID=ATVPDKIKX0DER&sellerID=A2IP1J8ZZAJSMN
Sardi's essays are here, and he writes frequently on the topic of cancer:
http://www.lewrockwell.com/sardi/sardi-arch.html
If your physicians allow, Nordic Naturals Cod Liver Oil liquid with Vitamin D may be helpful:
http://www.nordicnaturals.com/en/Products/Product_Details/98/?ProdID=1440
See this essay here:
ScienceDaily (Apr. 5, 2009) — Docosahexanoic acid (DHA), an omega-3 fatty acid found in fish oils, has been shown to reduce the size of tumours and enhance the positive effects of the chemotherapy drug cisplatin, while limiting its harmful side effects. The rat experiments provide some support for the plethora of health benefits often ascribed to omega-3 acids.
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2009/04/090401200441.htm
Take care,
J.
Dear Roger,
Frank Sinatra often quipped that "clothes make the man". Well, I offer that perhaps 'books make the man'. One can tell a lot about people by the books they read and own. When I go to someone's home or office I love scanning the bookshelves. It's what interests me the most. [Well, that and the video and music collections.] It's like getting a special glimpse into the psyche of the owners.
I have always been a book lover, and like you I still have almost all of the books of my life going back to childhood (including copies of “Roger Ebert’s Book of Film” and “The Great Movies” by Roger Ebert). Also like you, they would be, bar none, the hardest material possessions of mine to part with. This is of course because they are more than mere material possessions - they are markers, bookmarks if you will, of my life. Since reading your journal entry I have been reflecting on my lifelong gravitation towards books and on how much I’ve surrounded myself with them throughout my 42 years. I guess it all started in infancy when my mother read to me early and often. Later, in adolescence, my room in the house I grew up in, stocked with books, was my fortress of solitude. The libraries of grade school, high school, and university were my temples. Later still, I ended up working with and around books in various jobs, including a couple of bookstores and public libraries. I now am an instructor of English at a university in Seoul, South Korea, and I like it very much, but in a lot of ways I think that working in a bookstore has been my favourite job…although not practical in the long run as the combination of books and an employee discount was a temptation I probably too often succumbed to. I sincerely understand your condition of not being able to pass up a used bookstore. I delightfully suffer from the same affliction. Used, independent, and/or just all-around nifty bookstores call out to me wherever I am and I have my favourites all around the world – Shakespeare and Co. in Paris (Yes, indeed), Anglo-American Bookstore in Rome, Strand Bookstore in New York City, City Lights Bookstore in San Francisco, Skylight Books in Los Angeles, Powell’s Books in Seattle, Caveat Emptor in Bloomington, Indiana, and What the Book? here in Seoul…to name but a few.
I think as I grow older and now that we are in the computer/digital age, books matter more to me than ever before.
Recently, an acquaintance of mine here in Seoul, seeing me reading a somewhat thick book (“The Historian” by Elizabeth Kostova) in his restaurant, remarked to me, "You've got to get yourself a Kindle. It’s so much more convenient to carry around and read from than a book. Books and newspapers are going to be obsolete." “Nah,” I said. “I like the feel of a book and newspaper in my hands, the turning of its pages, the smell of its pulp and print. It somehow feels more real to me…more human.” He just shook his head disapprovingly. In his mind I was obviously not ‘up with the times’ and ‘just didn’t get it’. He’s partly right. I don’t WANT to get it.
I can’t help thinking of Elisha Cook, Jr. as Samuel T. Cogley, Attorney at Law, in an episode of Star Trek: The Original Series. [Talking with Captain Kirk] “I’ve got one those things [pointing at a computer in Kirk’s room]…but I never use it. Why? Books, young man. Books. If I had time I would show you something. My library. Thousands of books. [holding a book and passionately emphasizing it] This is where the law is.” He was also saying ‘this is where humanity is’ by implication.
Notes:
- By the way, I’m also a huge fan of Michael Chabon’s “The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. It’s almost like Chabon wrote it for me – Comic books, Prague, Houdini, Golems, World War II, New York City, the Flushing Meadows site of the 1939 World’s Fair. I’ll probably re-read it again at some point as well.
- I was happy to see Montaigne and his library discussed. As I first read your entry I also thought of Montaigne. I understand that the house in France that contained it still stands complete with its literary-adorned beams. I would love to visit it someday.
- With books being the theme here AND your South African connection in mind, I wondered as I read your entry if you had read the wonderful novel, “Disgrace” by J.M. Coetzee. Then, lo and behold, I happened to see that you had just reviewed a new film version of the book. Wow, I had no idea! Living my life here in Korea, I’m not as ‘in the loop’ on upcoming films as I used to be. Anyway, it’s a bit of a coincidence from where I’m sitting… and a must-see film for me. AND I’m guessing that you have in fact read the book.
~Terry Douglas
P.S. ~ I've been meaning to post a comment on your journal for a long time as almost each and every entry speaks to me. I guess this one finally gave me the extra push to do so. Thanks so much for writing this journal and sharing yourself in this way. The reader comments are also consistently thoughtful and food for my soul. This is definitely my kind of community.
Ebert: I can see myself running a used book store. Definitely.
I do try to control the number of books in my house, but this has often led to me giving away a book and then missing it so that I had to obtain another copy.
I realize that I don't need to be the 500th person to comment on this thread, but by sheer numbers I am hoping that those of us who are reportedly a vanished breed can give comfort to each other.
Roger, I thought you'd like Setterfield's The Thirteenth Tale for this passage alone:
"As one tends the graves of the dead, so I tend the books. I clean them, do minor repairs, keep them in good order. And every day I open a volume or two, read a few lines or pages, allow the voices of the forgotten dead to resonate inside my head. Do they sense it, these dead writers, when their books are read? Does a pinprick of light appear in their darkness? Is their soul stirred by the feather touch of another mind reading theirs? I do hope so. For it must be very lonely being dead."
and
"My gripe is not with lovers of truth but with truth herself. What succor, what consolation is there in truth, compared to a story? What good is truth, at midnight, in the dark, when the wind is roaring like a bear in the chimney? When the lightning strikes shadows on the bedroom wall and the rain taps at the window with its long fingernails? No. When fear and cold make a statue of you in your bed, don't expect hard-boned and fleshless truth to come running to your aid. What you need are the plump comforts of a story. The soothing, rocking safety of a lie."
Ebert: Found in Spam. The very opposite, but I think I know why.
Marie Haws: "I want a job doing this! I love being a snoopy ferret! Isn't there a job where you can get paid to be that persistent?!"
YOU TOO can make BIG $$$ with your home computer!
Seriously, there are online sweatshops that employ computer savvy searchers to find answers for others with less skill or patience. All payments go to the site owner, and I think the workers clear $.05 per answer or thereabouts. I don't know what the customer gets charged.
Mr. Ebert, the idea of "throwing away a book" sends me towards extreme shudders and I cannot imagine doing such a thing. Over the years I have had to, out of necessity, give away some of my books. I move frequently for work and when I initially began moving so frequently it was not feasible for me to cart my entire collection of about 1000+ books with me. Later, my attachments grew as my collection dwindled, and so, I have had to maintain my books in storage facility over the years. I gladly pay for the privilege of keeping my books in storage until such a time I can one day return to a more permanent living situation. Until then each move requires that I sift through my stored collection and retrieve 15-20 books that I can take with me on my travels. This leads to final hours of agony as I have to determine if I want to exchange some of my faves for "new" ones from my collection or exchange my traveling collection in its entirety. Oh the agony! Your post put a big smile on my face. Thanks for a typically wonderful post from one bibliophile to another.
P.S. I have not lived in Chicago for about 5 years (but grew up there and consider myself a Chicagoan) but manage to visit frequently. Do you ever make it to any of the great indie book stores in the city? The first picture for this post reminds me of a rather cluttered book store on Clark Street with books literally thrown in the store front window and multiple unwieldy stacks of books throughout the store. I love the "clutter" as it makes me feel like I am browsing through my private collection. My favorite book store though is The Strand in NYC. The musty smell and stacks and stacks of books reminds me of the Main Library at U of I where I worked for 3 years as an undergrad. Pure heaven!
WHAT does God reply???
Ebert: "Because you piss me off".
I hate to nit-pick (not true) but this makes it sound like something personal between God and Job, which I suppose there was if only because He needed a patsy to make a point. The more generic version I first heard 30 or 40 years ago involved a hapless contemporary mope whose life had been ruined by a succession of tragic events, and the Big Guy's answer was "I dunno...some people just piss me off."
CanInDeed: "Darn, I should have taken a screen shot. I should’ve known it wasn’t going to last long. There was an hilarious picture of a male body, from the knees to the neck—and most frighteningly—it was apparently a real person."
It just popped up on my RogerEbert main page. I have seen some frightening examples of extreme bodybuilding but I can't believe this is a real living person. BTW the tagline is "Do not pay for Creatine!" I'm not sure what that is, but I will definitely avoid it. Even if it would make me a chick magnet like this guy.
Yesterday I happened to be walking by the library at my University, and I saw a sign announcing a used book sale. Of course I had to go. The bargains were outrageous; among my take:
The complete works of Mark Twain (24 volume set)
The complete short stories of Guy de Maupassant
Hardcover illustrated editions of The Life and Opinions of Tristram Shandy, Gentleman and The Strange & Surprising Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of York, Mariner
E.M. Forester's The African Queen and A Passage to India
C.S. Lewis's Space Trilogy
A collection of short stories by Jack London
An anthology of stories, articles, poems, artwork, and advertisements from The Saturday Evening Post (thru 1954)
An English verse translation of The Mahabharata
A reference on how to play contract bridge
A history of the search for DNA, from Darwin to Watson and Crick
A few cookbooks,
and various other odds and ends.
Total price? $16.00
I'm still having a hard time believing it. The only drawback was that I had to carry my purchases 10 blocks to get them home. This led to an interesting dilemma--did I really want another history of the last days of the Roman Republic, even if it meant adding another couple pounds to my bag? (The answer turned out to be yes.) I considered the walk home a labor of love. The books are currently stacked on my kitchen counter, because I don't have anywhere else to put them. I am now on my way to buy a new bookcase.
Ebert: Damn!
Ebert: BTW, I have this: "An anthology of stories, articles, poems, artwork, and advertisements from The Saturday Evening Post (thru 1954)." In that era, big, thick issues of Life, Look, Colliers, and the SatEvePost came out every week.
The toughest hard luck book story I've heard so far came from a lady in Toronto who ran a rare-and-precious bookstore. She closed it down and stored all the books in her apartment. She was then living by the skin of her teeth. Her son, a sort of ne'er do well, forgot to pay the rent she'd given him the money for. The landlord evicted the both of them, locked the place up and threw all the contents away, including all those books, worth about $500,000, she said.
I doubt that the landlord merely trashed all those belongings, but, the point is, she wrote me this story from an insane asylum -- whatever they call them these days. Two reasons I believed her: I had a disinterested witness, and losing precious old books like that certainly would drive anybody nuts. Except maybe that landlord.
We're not a dying breed, Ellen Romano. A publishing industry trying to outsmart itself by selling to the "lowest common denominator" is what's dying, percentage points at a time.
I look at it this way: I pick books I'm going to want to re-read for at least 30 years. I do that now, broken bindings and all. Was just doing that a few minutes ago with a 15 year old book that's already fallen apart. The only replacements I can find are in used bookstores. So the industry has lost me and everybody like me as a customer. I know for a fact there are a lot more readers like me than "impulse buy" readers -- the comments on this thread give a good thumbnail representation.
Richard Voza, gonna have to agree AND disagree about what to hand high school kids to read. At least the Harry Potter series are darned good English. But, like, my little brother had read Gibbons' RISE AND FALL OF THE ROMAN EMPIRE before he was 13, couldn't stomach Red Ruffensore Baseball tales like he was s'posed to, and wound up dropping out of school at 15 -- quite a trauma, lasted for years. He was taught in no uncertain terms to believe he was stupid for not enjoying baseball stories.
Catholic elementary school had the right idea: kids picked what they liked out of the library. They'd always pick what they were proud enough to stand in front of class and give a report on. Hearing a classmate talking about a book s/he liked, even Nancy Drew or the Hardy Boys was a lot more fun way to hear about them then to be forced into reading them. As for me, at age 11 I got to give a report on John Hershey's HIROSHIMA and I was held over for 2 weeks telling about it.
In public school I felt like a sore thumb. I see a poster above who felt exactly the same. No room for independent minds or kids who've been picking through their parents' libraries since childhood. I loved Benchley and Thurber before I turned 10 -- just as much as LAD, A DOG and Tom Swift (which seemed a little silly, but cool fantasies).
Assembly-line one-size-education-fits-all just doesn't work, and I can show you whole coffeeshops full of kids who resent hi-school and what they were s'posed to learn, reading the classics on their own.
Ebert: "Surely you're not referring to this as dirty?"
Oh no, of course not! Why, that's so clean you could wipe a baby's bottom with it. :)
Note: I didn't dare quote you in full as I know the Spam Filter too well! Chuckle!
@ Amit Agarwal -
"One of the most interesting games is trying to figure out which book a character in a film is reading and also trying to read the titles on bookshelves in movies while trying to follow the film at the same time..."
ME TOO!
One of the best things about watching a film on DVD, is being able to "pause" the movie and hit "zoom" on your remote and get in close and read stuff - like what's written on the spine of a book! Sometimes, if the forzen image isn't clear enough, I'll grab a screen capture of it and open the file up in Photoshop and tinker around with it until I can make out what it is.
"Anita Harmon" however turns up nothing (the name on the book Emma Thompson is reading in "Last Chance Harvey."
Solution? Go FULL OTTER Mode!
What is Emma Thompson reading?
http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/jacketcopy/2009/01/what-is-emma-th.html
"I just watched this film yesterday and suspect the first name pays homage to the superb UK author Anita Brookner. The "retro" cover design of the book would also fit. The surname likely came from Harvey + Hoffman (= Harman). I am a fiction writer and occasionally like to have fun with the names I give my characters. I DO admit to googling the name to ensure I haven't been missing out on an obscure Brit talent." - Posted by: mary, June 03, 2009 at 05:47 AM
Ta da! :)
Which led me to then this quote by Anita Brookner:
"You never know what you will learn till you start writing. Then you discover truths you never knew existed."
"Brookner published her first novel, A Start In Life, in 1981 at the age of 53. Since then she has published approximately a novel every year. Her fourth book, Hotel du Lac, published in 1984, won the Booker Prize.
Brookner is highly regarded as a stylist. Her fiction, which has been heavily influenced by her own life experiences, explores themes of isolation, emotional loss and difficulties associated with fitting into English society. Her novels typically depict intellectual, middle-class women, who suffer isolation, emotional loss and disappointments in love. Many of Brookner's characters are the children of European immigrants who experience difficulties with fitting into English life; a number of characters appear to be of Jewish descent." - wiki
And that's what I learned today for being an Otter. :)
Ebert: Would it have been too much trouble to have her reading a real book?
I'm 22. I have six different bookshelves in my room, in addition to one in the hallway. All are full, some have books two-deep. I read between sixty-five and eighty books a year, but it never seems to make much of a dent in the wall of my to-be-read books. What can I say - I'm an addict. Lately I've been reading a lot of NYRB Classics. I've found the NYRB line remarkably good and consistent, and the books themselves look really nice.
Forty-seven Simenon novels? I think I only have one, and that's in French - one of the Maigrets was high school French assigned reading. Which do you prefer - Maigret or the romans durs? Anyone here have recommendations on where to start with the incredibly prolific Frenchman?
Ebert: NYRB has several Simenons. The Maigrits are comforting, the roman durs unsettling. I like both flavors. Any Simenon lover will tell you, start anywhere. Once you've read a dozen, you'll see what I mean.
Dear Mr. Ebert, (or Roger, depending on how you would like to be called),
I am in college now and considering entering into some form of film as a career. Whether it be criticism or production, I don't know. Given that you are a film critic of exceptional quality and finesse, I ask what your advice may be.
Sincerely,
Patrick Harney
Ebert: See classics. Write reviews via web and make films via video. Study lit and drama. See what works for you.
http://www.penny-arcade.com/comic/2009/3/9/
Ebert: That makes it all so clear.
Do you also really love The Winter's Tale? I was so happy to see you chose that one to include as your sample folio page! I have drunk and seen the spider!
I am currently dealing with the nearly 10,000 books that my dad left, which are mainly SF and/or fantasy (never mind the 10,000 or so books that we already have). I am doing triage on them; donate/trade at local used bookstore; read because I haven't read them yet; put into series sets suitable for Ebay; and the Really Old Stuff, which I may wait till the recession is over to go on Ebay (like the 1965 Astounding with the Frank Herbert story in it, or the 1953 Worlds of If with the L. Sprague de Camp story in it). I'm actually cataloging this stuff on a spreadsheet, and have stacks of books on the floor.
Needless to say, I'm the proper grandniece to my great-aunt Lily, whose house had yellow police tape wrapped around it by the Wasco County Historical Society when she died. See, when you're a packrat _long_ enough...they all become antiques!
Ebert: I've got tons of old mags. Are they worth much money?
If you've never encountered it, here's a quote I think you'll like:
"Even when reading is impossible, the presence of books acquired produces such an ecstasy that the buying of more books than one can read is nothing less than the soul reaching towards infinity... we cherish books even if unread, their mere presence exudes comfort, their ready access, reassurance.
"A.E. Newton"
I carved that phrase into the molding around the top of my own library some years ago.
Ebert: Around the top of mine, I carved the last page of The Great Gatsby.
Answering your question, I've never heard the Job joke and I couldn't find a version in portuguese. But i do believe googling "Job" and "asks the Lord" would make it very hard to find a joke.
I hope puns are allowed if they're made in a learned language.
i love used books far better than new ones, same with books from the library. i like to think about the others who have held the book, why they decided to read it, where they sat while reading it, and where the book may have travelled, traveled, tra - been to.
i like to imagine who bought the book first, whom they loaned it to, and what circumstances caused them to allow the book to end up in the used book store.
i also like to imagine walking into the used book store that i used to visit in new york along a windy section of route 17 near the west point military academy. i'd stop there after taking pictures of the fall foliage, pick out a few books - some just based on how i thought they'd look on my shelf regardless of what the book actually was. i'd get a few pumpkins from a roadside cart (one that wasn't hit during a car chase), stop for coffee and a bagel, and then head back south into new jersey.
i have one of those books here now called story of the wreck of the titanic, memorial edition copyright 1912 by L.h. walter. someone has the same book on ebay for $76. inside mine is a stamp that says "from the private library of w.a. howard." i'm not a big titanic fan, nor do i know anything about mr. walter or howard. on that day, it looked like a book that needed to be bought but for a lot less than $76.
gatsby? please, not gatsby.
click on my name/link above to take you to my book review of gatsby.
Ebert: "Someone please tell me why this book is often called one of the greatest works of American fiction?"
Because of the writing?
do you have the same philosophy about giving a list of favorite books as you do with movies?
Ebert: If you do it quickly, it's worthless. If you take the time to do it properly, it can't be done. If you publish it, all you'll get is people wondering why you put #7 below #4.
Ebert: I've got tons of old mags. Are they worth much money?
---Could be, depending. I've seen old LIFE and LOOK mags go for $10 at a used bookstore.
Had a friend who died 2 springs ago at age 89. He was one of the original artists for Superman and Captain Marvel before he got drafted for WWII. He kept a box of them in his basement, never opened.
I called a fellow I knew at the Los Angeles Recycler Want Ad paper, who was a collector, kept a great big portrait of Scrooge McDuck on his office wall, painted by Carl Barks himself. He said he'd give $15,000 for Captain Marvel number something-or-other.
But the guy wouldn't even open the box to check. Instead, he bitched about never having enough money 'til the day he died.
I wonder what the wife he left behind did with that box o' comics.
on gatsby: the writing? by that, do you mean the story?
any good plot can be broken down into one simple sentence: "somebody wants something, but someone or something else is in the way." this can't be done for this book.
gatsby doesn't want anything. he strives for nothing. it's a story full of boring banter between people who have no connection to anything except money and gatsby. there's nothing driving the story, nothing that we're waiting around for in order to see who wins or loses. gatsby is unlikeable. the narrator stumbles upon gatsby with an amazing coincidence, without which there can't be a story. certain story events hinge upon poorly written situations in which someone reveals information for no other reason than for someone else to overhear it, otherwise the (lack of) story couldn't advance.
after reading gastby, i felt as if someone had subtracted knowledge from my brain. i actually knew less than i had before reading it.
Ebert: I meant the quality of the prose. The last two paragraphs are among the most beautiful in the language. I believe the movie is about much more than you say it is. About no less than our often disappointed yearning for the American Dream. I suppose it all depends on how it strikes you.
"Ebert: I can see myself running a used book store. Definitely."
No offense, but the blog post gives me the impression that, once you bought a book from somebody, you'd never want to part with it. That'd be kind of counterintuitive.
Although I suppose you could act like Aziraphale in "Good Omens," doing everything short of threatening customers to keep them from buying books...
Ebert: A bookseller who hangs onto ebloved books is like a bartender who holds onto the best booze. It may be fun, but it's no way to make a living.
I've never before met anyone who knew who Penrod was. It seems strange when you consider how popular he was when the books came out. And yet by the 70s, no one had checked them out of our public library in years except me. I haven't re-read them in a long time, but just the memory is making me laugh so it might be worth the time. Then again, sometimes older books don't shine as brightly as they do in my memories, so it might be better to leave well enough alone.
Ebert: For kids growing up today, Penrod's boyhood might as well belong to a space alien.
I've been a print-addict ever since I learned to read; it didn't take me long to realize that books had stories in them. It helped that we didn't own a television till I was eight years old.
When our children were young, they each owned a hundred or so books; their collections started shortly after they became fluent readers. At that time I estimated our entire family book collection, and it came to about five hundred volumes, excluding church literature (which we later threw out without regrets). We lost the entire collection when we were briefly homeless, and it's only been in the past year that we've had enough space to start collecting again. We still don't have a bookcase in every room, like we used to (and one at the foot of the stairs!), but we're working on it.
So Steve Jobs thinks "Nobody reads anymore"? What an idiot. I spend most of my free time on the internet ... reading. In fact I spent the past twenty minutes or more reading everyone's fond descriptions of their libraries. And it's past midnight, I need to be up at dawn, and at my bedside there are eight library books I should be reading.
We are book lovers here too and have hundreds of volumes despite the inconvenience of moving them every few years. However, I am surprised by the hostility to the Kindle in some of the comments.
While arguably not for everyone, this device has changed our lives. My husband is a compulsive and eclectic reader who also happens to be an active duty Marine officer who deploys frequently. Instead of waiting months for an Amazon shipment (if mail is available at all) and then having to leave the books behind a few months later, he can now read what he wants, when he wants, and take it all with him when he leaves. Since we share a Kindle account we can also read the same book at the same time for no additional cost and discuss from half a world away.
As much as I love browsing them, not everyone has the luxury of walking to a rich used bookstore on their lunch break. Until you've been dependent on intermittent postal service and the randomness of strangers' donations (whose tastes tend towards the _Left Behind_ variety) for reading material I guess it is hard to appreciate the value of this technology. Actual reading and the exchanging ideas is still the main thing, right?
Ebert: No one has posted here who has a Kindle and doesn't like it. Hmmm.
I was in Keats House yesterday; it's finally reopened, after fairly lengthy refurbishment work; when embarking on your Walk, which I almost always do when I'm in London, in the past, I simply had to walk past and think 'maybe next time.' I didn't get a mug, but I did pick up a bookmark from the wee shop, and had the words 'beauty is truth, truth beauty' running through my head as I marched across the Heath to see the Rembrandt masterpiece at Kenwood.
Ebert: And at Kenwood did you take tea?
This reminds me of John Updike's essay "A Case for Books", originally a New York Op-Ed published in 2000 and included in the 2007 anthology "Due Considerations". Some excerpts:
"If the paper book joins the papyrus scroll in extinction... we will miss a number of things about it:
"The book as furniture. Shelved rows of books reveal mental processes in progress - books in the act of consumption, abandoned but readily resumable, tomorrow or next year.
"The book as sensual pleasure. The average book fits into the human hand with a seductive nestling, a kiss of texture, whether of cover cloth, glazed jacket, or flexible paperback.
"The book as souvenir. One's collection comes to symbolize the contents of one's mind... reminders of moments, of stages, in a pilgrimage... Without their physical evidence, my life would be more phantasmal.
"Books as ballast... They make us think twice about changing addresses... they act as counterweight to our fickle and flighty natures."
And in an eerily prescient swipe at the Kindle:
"Electronic equals (e-quals, if your will) immaterial..."
Yes I can truly understand. In the flat , I would move into in a couple of years from now-- I have already decided I''ll be surrounded only by books and maybe my laptop. Entry would be by invitation only.
My days among the dead "would be" passed. well mostly dead!
How I wish that I would chuck my present job and run a used books shop. My dear ones mock that I'd never sell a book but end up buying books.
I do not know about your place but In India , reccycling started a long long time ago, so one of my pleasurables chores was to take the old newspapers and magazines to the neighbourhood " waste paper mart!" . The old gentleman running the enterprise would let me peer into the stacks of books , magazines and other assorted printed stuff lying all around in disorderly heaps. Many an hour would pass before I would go back with the few bucks that would be exchanged for my old stuff and I would come back wiser with a whistle in my lips.
I would still do it but for state of affairs when people do not even recognize famous authors let alone read them, I was astounded when in a book fair no less, people had not heard of let alone display books by Asokamitran -- a giant of an author whose only fault is that he writes in Tamil! with such ignorance around and Kindles who would want to read except me!
But on second thought may be this is the right time to realise my dream! only those who can feel like the smell of a new book as well as the sweat of a well thumbed one would even begin to understand what I am trying to say.
Ebert: Your new flat sounds ideal, but I would add a bed and a rice cooker.
Voza,
You have a unique perspective, and sensible writing ideas; and, I much enjoyed your analysis of King's work particularly as it compared to Meyer's: but, this critique of The Great Gatsby doesn't conform to my recollection of the book.
I think F, Scott Fitzgerald is even more relevant today in this decadence of Mac-Mansion's and SUVs -- seems time for another remake too -- I did love the Redford version (have there been others?) with Durn and Farrow; and, it was thought it could not be done owing to Fitzgerald's use of language.
Ebert: I meant the quality of the prose. The last two paragraphs are among the most beautiful in the language. I believe the movie is about much more than you say it is.
in fairness to you, i will re-read that last page just for that page and it's prose.
in fairness to me, we can't invoke the movie when we're talkin' books. take the last scene of the grapes of wrath and compare it to ending of the book. two different animals.
beautiful language or not, it still has to be a driving story. i can put the body of a lamborghini on an edsel, but it's still going to drive like an edsel.
in this age of unoriginal movies and remakes upon remakes and remakes that are retitled so we don't know they are remakes, i'd guess that if gatsby were a good story, then someone would have remade the redford movie by now.
I'd previously heard the Job joke before in the UK. I have never heard it in Turkey (Job is Eyüp in Turkish).
Gatsby doesn't want anything? He strives for nothing? Why, the whole thrust of the book are the lengths to which Gatsby will go to be with Daisy, who chews him up and spits him out. It's about the offenses the rich have carried out on the poor and how there's nobody to see these things except for the eyes of God and nobody to stand up for these people except for guys like Nick Carroway, who is really standing between the two groups and is thus detached from both. It's about being wrecked by the American Dream, losing yourself in the pursuit of it, and it's unsustainable nature, how everybody wanted money (or assumed everybody else wanted money) and how that money, in the end, didn't really solve anything. There are so many great lines in that novel beyond the last two paragraphs.
Beyond that, too much literature would cease to exist if you banned coincidence. Most Shakespeare, for one.
The best part of being a fiction writer (certainly not the royalties) is that it gives me license to buy books. Reference books, books by my competition, books by my friends, books about writing prose, books that will inspire me, books that will elevate me, and, sometimes, just a book to while away the time and make me forget deadlines and other nasty things. My first adult book, read when I was 12, was Captain Blood, once called "the great forgotten epic of the 20th century." No wonder I was drawn to reading and writing ripping yarns after absorbing all of Sabatini's work. I still have my first copy of CB; it's from the 1920s and features still photos from the silent film version. It is enclosed in a suede book cover with a galleon tooled on the front; what happy serendipity to find that jacket in a thrift store.
From the number of entries on here, I think, Roger, that you have released a torrent with this topic. Doomsayers, take note. Book fans might be the new silent majority. "Say it out loud, I read and I'm proud!" And to paraphrase the dog-lovers' creed . . . "If there are no books in heaven, I want to go where the books go when they die."
Ebert: I have always had a weakness for "ripping yarns."
http://www.amazon.com/Nancy-Butler/e/B001ITVVSC/ref=ntt_athr_dp_pel_pop_1
Enjoying the Gatsby exchange. I took an undergraduate literature course entitled The American Dream of the 20's with a wonderful professor whose survey of early American lit I thoroughly enjoyed. The booklist in the campus bookstore sold it for me. Fitzgerald, Faulkner, Cather, Toomer, and more. One of the reasons for taking the class was that I had to read The Sound and the Fury for it. The only way I was going to make it through that book was as an assigned reading. Something like a feeling that Faulkner had been reading my family mail, youch.
Loved Gatsby the book, not so much the movie. For some reason I just could not accept Redford in his role. Bur then the book is a very personal experience isn't it.
Deaath Comes for the Archbishop a revelation.
I think the most erotic movie scene I can recall from recent years is the one in Remains of the Day when Emma Thompson backs Anthony Hopkins into a corner, trying to see what book he's reading. It took my breath away; their need and desire was just palpable. And he held that little book like a shield, which she gently pried away. I have yet to read the novel on which that film was based, but maybe I'll try and fit it in, this autumn.
re: Penrod -- There's a yearly Penrod Art Fair in Indianapolis (natch), on the grounds of the Indianapolis Museum of Art. It's a one-day event with a juried art show, and the proceeds benefit the Penrod Foundation which supports scholarships for young artists. I'm not sure how many attendees recognize the tie back to Tarkington, but I like the attempt to keep the memory alive...
Wow! Penrod and Sam!
Hey Roger, you read the Studs Lonigan series, didn't you? My brother used to hide those paperbacks under his bed, then rehearse acting like Young Lonigan in the mirror... "on the verge of fifteen, and wearing his first suit of long trousers, stood in the bathroom with a Sweet Caporal pasted in his mug." I still remember the line.
Ebert: I spent along evening with James T. Farrell once. He told me he had written his own obituatry:
James T. (for Thomas) Farrell, Who might have been this,
Or who might have been that,
But who might have been
Neither this nor that,
And who wrote too much, who
Fought too much, and who
Kissed too much,
(He needed no enemies)…
That man, J.T.F., died last night
Of a depreciation of time,
And willed his dust to the public domain.
richard voza said: "it seemed to me that these "classic" literary pieces were so boring, so out of touch from today's world, that kids were getting turned off to reading."
Then you are assigning the wrong classics. I have to go with the readers here who love Willa Cather. I have recommended O Pioneers and My Antonia to countless teens and parents of teens as great introductions to classic American lit. Even kids who "don't like to read" devoured them. I also second the motion on Typee; I changed my major in college after reading this book.
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For those of you who feel duty bound to tackle Finnegan's Wake, reconsider. I took two or three flying leaps at it, but eventually began to wonder if, conceding the brilliance of its author, it really amounted to anything more than a stunt. The great novels I have read grabbed me by the lapels and shook me, demanding to be read late into the night, leaving me drained and unable to look at life the same way again. Trust me, you won't have this experience with Finnegan's Wake. Maybe you will get the satisfaction of having endured it. Life is short; there are too many other great reading experiences out there.
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Speaking of life being short, like you Roger, I am closer to the end than the beginning. Like many people on this thread I have despaired of making a dent in the list of books I want to read. Lately I have been wondering how I would want to spend the last year or so of my life: keep working on that list of unread books, or go back and revisit my very favorite books, the ones that formed me, the ones that "furnished my life" so well. I would be interested in anyone else's thoughts about this.
Ebert: I've known two or three people who readaFinnegans Wake, but no one who said they were glad they did.
Where are you storing all of your old journals? Surely those can't be stuffed away with other things. YOUR writing to some is more important than any other single book. I should know. It is to me.
PENROD & SAM! ! ! In my childhood our home held "Journeys Through Bookland" and a set of Encyclopaedia Britannica. "We could look it up" was the family motto. First big-money purchase in adult life: Encyclo Britannica. Saddest day: when, because I just could not afford to ship [even at book rate] it with me every time I moved, leaving Encyclo behind. [Donated to school]. Kept a few up-date volumes, however. Stephen King first author I had to read with a dictionary always at hand. Movies take you to the scene on screen. Books take you to places fabricated really only in your own mind.
Needs: a robe. a bowl. AND ALL THE BOOKS EVER PRINTED!
Thank you again, Dear Ebert, for just being in my world. Take care. Cassandra
C. S. Lewis once said that the only books we will own in heaven are those we lent and never got back. Scary thought! I can't part with my books. If I want to share one, I buy my friend a copy.
Like many of my friends who love books, I started by reading comics (mostly European) at a very young age. My brother told me once he remembered me trying to teach him to read with a comic book (and I had forgotten I did that). I keep buying them, along with books.
Thanks for the post!
There's nothing like books on the bookshelf, rain, and a good amount of time away from everybody else.
Just today I left my philosophy course to catch the last hour of my town's library book sale. I walked past all the "Fiction" rows (it's impossible to tell what's good and what's trash, which is doubly bad for an aspiring-someday-maybe-novelist/poet like myself), which were by far the most filled, and went right to the literature/poetry section. I picked up a collection of Coledrige and some Robert Frost criticism, a book on Ancient Greece, then made my way over to a corner where the individually-priced "rare" books were.
I was brushing my fingers over book spines when I tuned into an elder man's conversation about buying and selling books. He shook his head at the mention of Ebay, said that nobody was buying them there. Not due to the recession, but because there simply aren't any "young collectors anymore"; that the younger generations aren't interested. I looked up, gave a slightly sad smile and nodded, said it's true.
It is true, and pretty sad. The book industry is sagging (I've read that being no new Harry Potter, book sales were down last year, but were bolstered by that terribly-written Twilight saga). People don't read. I've amassed my collection of books largely from $1 GoodWill prices. I love these books, and I will never, ever read all of them. If I read everything I bought, I wouldn't have any time to live.
It's cold out here and the leaves are falling. The next time it rains, I'm pulling out my ethernet cord and browsing my bookshelf for the day. Thanks for the post, Roger. I think I'm going to look for that Dwight McDonald essay.
Ebert: Real book lovers go to alibris.com.
Have you read a book by an author from every state in the union? Bonus points if you've read one from every Canadian province. I've done the latter, but pretty sure not the former.
Reading this blog entry, I was reminded of two other people: two great (maybe the greatest) book collectors. I have no comment to give on your entries, I would just like to offer quotes from these exemplary people.
"...what I am really concerned with is giving you some insight into the relationship of a book collector to his possessions, into collecting rather than a collection. If I do this by elaborating on the various ways of acquiring books, this is something entirely arbitrary. This or any other procedure is merely a dam against the spring tide of memories which surges toward any collector as he contemplates his possessions. Every passion borders on the chaotic, but the collector's passion borders on the chaos of memories. More than that: the chance, the fate, that suffuse the past before my eyes are conspicuously present in the accustomed confusion of these books. For what else is this collection but a disorder to which habit has accommodated itself to such an extent that it can appear as order? You have all heard of people whom the loss of their books has turned into invalids, or of those who in order to acquire them become criminals. These are the very areas in which any order is a balancing act of extreme precariousness. 'The only exact knowledge there is,' said Anatole France, 'is the knowledge of the date of publication and the format of books.' And indeed, if there is a counterpart to the confusion of a library, it is the order of its catalogue."
--Walter Benjamin - "Unpacking My Library: A Talk About Book Collecting"
The second individual is a book collector of a very different sort. Whereas Benjamin was a collector of books as material objects, Susan Sontag was a collector of the ideas in the books; she wanted the information in her head. Here is Sontag on Benjamin (and, at the same time, on herself):
"Benjamin's books were not only for use, projessional tools; they were contemplative objects, stimuli for reverie. His library evokes 'memories of the cities in which I found so many things: Riga, Naples, Munich, Danzig, Moscow, Florence, Basel, Paris...memories of the rooms where these books had been housed...' Bookhunting, like the sexual hunt, adds to the geography of pleasure--another reason for strolling about in the world."
--Susan Sontag - "Under the Sign of Saturn"
Love my books. I have this reading triangle thing I do where I'm always reading three things at once. My three reading categories that are always being represented are -- 1. Something that's fun, entertaining or pleasurable. 2. Something in the realm of art, philosophy, or science. 3. Something I'm really curious about at the moment. The triangle has a certain momentum to it. It creates it's own standards. When a book isn't living up to the other two the triangle demands that I boot and replace it. Oftentimes, a certain book will greatly enhance something else in the triangle. Sometimes all three books are bouncing off each other in really unlikely ways. Connections I would have never made just fall into my lap.
Glad to know that some of my American cousins even know about the OED. After living in the US for 10+ years now I haven't come across one American friend who ever mentioned the OED even in casual conversation.
Surprisingly little is mentioned of the world's most sold author Agatha Christie here. Does nobody love the very charming M. Hercule Poirot and Captain Hastings? The cheeky wisdom of old Miss Marple?
Ebert wrote: Found in Spam. The very opposite, but I think I know why.
Your Spam Filter is like this cranky, nit-picky old lady living across the street who's constantly sticking her nose into everyone's business in the hopes of being offended. And who as a young girl, was a member of the Hitler Youth party. :)
@ Richard Peterson -
Yeah, I've heard about those "make money" websites! Basically, the only way to make money off the Internet is to sell something, eh? Pop-Culture, Comics, Collectibles and Movie Memorabilia is always popular. So too, rare books and out of print magazines.
Note: the best way to find out what stuff is worth, is to go online and look for what you have - and take note of what people are willing to pay for it. Also; don't just limit your inquiries to ebay in the U.S. Try the Canadian and the UK versions of it, too. :)
Ebert wrote: "Would it have been too much trouble to have her reading a real book?
Should my life ever take a truly unexpected turn and in the twisting of that road, I find myself working on a film and behind the camera, I promise the following to Roger Ebert:
I will plant a copy of the book "Your Movie Sucks" somewhere in a shot so it can seen. :)
And for thinking that it would be the most DARING thing anyone could ever do, for tempting fate.
Boy, howdy - my reading list has just gotten longer and longer based on all these people's recommendations. (And I know I'm not the only one making lists....)
Here are some of my favorite series:
the Horatio Hornblower series by C. S. Forester (not written in order, so every one stands on its own)
the Aubrey/Maturin series by Patrick O'Brien (written in order, best if read in order. Contains one of my favorite lines in all literature: "You have debauched my sloth!")
the Flashman series, by George MacDonald Fraser (the adventures of a cad, scoundrel, liar, coward, bully, womanizer....and England's greatest hero)
the Burke series by Andrew Vachss (I'd recommend reading these in order, too. The prose is so convincing that it snaps off the paper.)
the Miles Vorkosigan series by Lois McMaster Bujold (Google Miles' name and you get "miles vorkosigan reading order". I actually read "Shards of Honor" first. It's the story of Miles' parents, who are initially enemies, but when are both stranded on a strange planet they have to work together to survive - with only oatmeal and bleu cheeese dressing to eat!)
Enjoy, enjoy, enjoy!!!
Paul Rogers: Beyond that, too much literature would cease to exist if you banned coincidence. Most Shakespeare, for one.
And Vonnegut. Good heavens, there would be no Vonnegut. He'd have disappeared in a chronosynclastic infundibulum.
Ebert: Every incident since the big bang has been a coincidence. About the bang itself, I can't be sure.
Hello. I sent to my spouse's e-mail the final portion of your essay, because there is something said around our house every so often about hiring a clutter consultant.
Otherwise, I discover that the public library has "Rodinksy's Room," and I will have it tomorrow, thank you for the tip, dear Roger!
Oh yes. Maybe you read, ten or twenty years ago, a piece by Larry McMurtry about how one can never have enough books, and not to be intimidated when people criticize you for not reading all of them. I think he would say what he does even if he did not operate (or did at that time, anyway) an antiquarian bookshop.
--Martin
Ebert: He put his books where his mouth was.
http://www.times.com/books/97/12/07/home/article2.html
to walter:
i hate this expression, but kids today are different than i/we was/were in high school back in the 70's and beyond. they've been overexposed to so much internet, cable, video games, and flash media that those classics don't hold their interest anymore unless it's an honors class. i don't like making excuses for kids, but this one is valid. think about those characters in gatsby. how are teenagers going to identify with them? it's a world they don't know, will never know, and don't want to know. back when we were in school, we didn't really have many choices.
they're also not coming to school with the desire to learn, which makes it harder to teach classics. as far as those books being the "wrong" classics, i don't get to choose that. i'm at the mercy of what's been board approved. if i can find literature that's more exciting to them, and if can show them that they can really have fun reading, then later i can steer them into classics.
______________________________
to paul:
gatsby is a static character who throws parties as events happen around and despite him. most of what you've said is in the ballpark but can also be philosophical yearnings that can be applied afterward.
______________________________
bottom line:
the book was first published in 1925. it wasn't until fitzgerald died in '40 that anyone paid any attention to the book. if this truly the greatest american novel, wouldn't it have been praised right out of the gate?
i'll take the world according to garp any day.
about the book in the movie with emma thompson: i always thought that part of the beauty of directing a film was the chance to place things that are important to you or significant in some way. it's a chance for directors to think about their favorite books and put one in the hands of an actor or actress so maybe the audience will see it, think about it, and pick it up. maybe that director just doesn't read much or have a favorite book. i'm not attacking that director as i don't know who it is and am too lazy to look it up.
Ebert: Every incident since the big bang has been a coincidence. About the bang itself, I can't be sure.
---Darned funny coincidence you should say that, Roger!
In the late 80s fresh from college I moved from Green Bay to Tucson driving a $35 VW Beetle I had purchased from the "Sports Guy" at the local CBS Station, $200 and all my worldly belongings which consisted of a few changes of clothes and 10 or so boxes of books. My wife to be and I rented a 2 car garage apartment and instituted a strict policy that if something came in something else had to go out.
Much to my dismay Tucson had (and still has) one of the best used bookstores I have ever seen. Bookmans made my life quite difficult the choices were agonizing and often I would get rid of something that was not books, when I brought in a new (to me) book. We eventually moved to bigger digs and I have continued to collect my books. We are also unable to dispose of them and I am satisfied beyond belief when I am able to use a book I have not touched in years.
I like the thought of digital books and digital book readers, they would make the clutter on the nightstands, in the bathrooms and in my den go away. BUT I would miss the constant reminder of a half read book waiting for me to get back in the mood for a particular author or genre.
There are not enough hours in my life to read all the things I want to read. But I intend to try anyway.
Ebert: A great used book store is a blessing and a curse, and a haven in both cases. And they smell like reading.
To Richard:
When a piece of literature, music, or art is not praised "right out of the gate", it is not necessarily an indicator of its worth. The novel, as a form of literature, was itself not accepted by critics when it first developed. Sometimes a work is ahead of its time, or just not appreciated in the mainstream right away, and there have been plenty of examples over the years of a work's true greatness not being widely embraced for years to come. This doesn't mean that you have to accept Gatsby as the great american novel, or even as a great american novel, but it doesn't mean that those who believe that are wrong.
Also, the fact that I see Gatsby as one of the greats does not make me enjoy Garp any less.
Dear Roger, thank you for providing the link to the piece about McMurtry and books. I hope that many will want to read it.
Ebert: He put his books where his mouth was.
http://www.times.com/books/97/12/07/home/article2.html
I think what you are suggesting as well is that his bookshop originated as a labor of love. The best way to run a business or work at a job.
All the best in continuing to enjoy your special office, as you LIKE it.
Richard Voza: Yes, Gatsby is a static character, but there's a reason. He's the mystery, the thing that must be solved. Nick Carroway is the dynamic character, as he's the person who learns something from the whole ordeal. I also think that, to a certain extent, Fitzgerald wrote the novel to involve the reader, that you, sitting in your chair, act as the sixth character, as the story is being related in a conversational style. By involving you, Fitzgerald hopes that you'll become a static character. From the three different classes I've been in where the book has been taught, it works: The class starts off thinking that it's just swell to be a booze-running, law-breaking, party-throwing, wild and crazy guy, but their opinion changes as Gatsby is unraveled.
Going by your criteria for what rates as classic, Van Gogh was a pretty terrible artist.
@ KathyB - "Loved Gatsby the book, not so much the movie. For some reason I just could not accept Redford in his role. But then the book is a very personal experience isn't it."
"The Great Gatsby" - the end of the last Chapter:
On the last night, with my trunk packed and my car sold
to the grocer, I went over and looked at that huge incoherent
failure of a house once more. On the white steps an obscene
word, scrawled by some boy with a piece of brick, stood out
clearly in the moonlight and I erased it, drawing my shoe
raspingly along the stone. Then I wandered down to the
beach and sprawled out on the sand.
Most of the big shore places were closed now and there
were hardly any lights except the shadowy, moving glow of
a ferryboat across the Sound. And as the moon rose higher
the inessential houses began to melt away until gradually I
became aware of the old island here that flowered once for
Dutch sailors’ eyes—a fresh, green breast of the new world.
Its vanished trees, the trees that had made way for Gatsby’s
house, had once pandered in whispers to the last and
greatest of all human dreams; for a transitory enchanted
moment man must have held his breath in the presence of this
continent, compelled into an aesthetic contemplation
he neither understood nor desired, face to face for the last
time in history with something commensurate to his capacity
for wonder.
And as I sat there brooding on the old, unknown world,
I thought of Gatsby’s wonder when he first picked out the
green light at the end of Daisy’s dock. He had come a long
way to this blue lawn and his dream must have seemed so
close that he could hardly fail to grasp it. He did not know
that it was already behind him, somewhere back in that vast
obscurity beyond the city, where the dark fields of the republic
rolled on under the night.
Gatsby believed in the green light, the orgastic future
that year by year recedes before us. It eluded us then, but
that’s no matter —- tomorrow we will run faster, stretch out
our arms farther... And one fine morning ——
So we beat on, boats against the current, borne back
ceaselessly into the past.
The End
-----------------
I always thought the Great Gatsby was about that green light. About the promise it held and a man's belief in it; in the American Dream. While also being a portrait of America itself, and who gets to have that dream. And what happens to those who can't reach it.
Note: the first film adaptation of The Great Gatsby (1926) is a famous lost classic. However... it seems that a trailer survived and is one of the 50 films in a 3-disk boxed DVD set called More Treasures from American Film Archives, 1894-1931 (2004) compiled by the National Film Preservation Foundation from 5 American film archives. Preserved by the Library of Congress (AFI/Jack Tillmany collection) it has a running time of one minute.
And yes, I'm now hunting for it like a curious Otter; grin.
Meanwhile...
Robert Redford tried, but I agree KathyB; I didn't think he was suited to the role, either. And no offense to Redford - whose role choices I've always admired for aiming beyond his looks, it's just that Jay Gatsby was of a time and place that is not readily embodied by Redford's golden boy appearance. In the novel, Gatsby rose from impoverished rural beginnings in North Dakota to achieve his goal by way of criminal enterprise - he needed more of an edge to his mystery, not just a sense of unease.
Note: Mia Farrow - I always wanted to slap her as Daisy, and for over-acting the part so badly. She was supposed to represent an idealization of the American dream embodied as a beautiful girl.
Whereas...
Scott Wilson played Myrtle's long-suffering husband George Wilson who ran the ramshackle gas station where Nick would appear, in his flashy car, to collect the wife Wilson didn't realize was cheating on him - that's the performance which for me, resonated the loudest; with Sam Waterston as Nick Carraway running a close second.
I'll always remember what a kicked dog George was. Abandoned by good fortune and left by fate to achieve no more than long for it, of him standing there in the road after Myrtle had been killed, and gazing up at Doctor T. J. Eckleburg - a pair of fading bespectacled eyes painted onto an old billboard hanging over the valley of ashes, and imagining it meant something, not realizing that "things" take on the importance of whatever we project onto them; like the wife he'd lost and was about to kill another over before himself. Daisy wasn't worth the fuss, and neither was Myrtle.
To me, George was an alternate version of Jay Gatsby; imagine he'd never made it out of North Dakota and was always poor. He did however, get the girl he wanted. And look how that turned out, eh?
I guess it comes down to what makes you ache more? The guy trying to get the girl, or hold onto the one he has?
I think it's easier to strive towards something than to lose it, myself. Poor George. I felt so badly for him in the movie - Scott can act, eh?!
@ richard voza - "The book was first published in 1925. It wasn't until Fitzgerald died in '40 that anyone paid any attention to the book. If this truly the greatest American novel, wouldn't it have been praised right out of the gate?"
Vincent Van Gogh wasn't appreciated at first, either. Sometimes, you're too ahead of the curve and coming from a place others haven't reached yet.
P.S. I'm biased, I know, but I don't think they'll ever truly get the Great Gatsby right as a film, until the British do it. :)
Ebert: What a great book.
I am 25 and own about 400 books. Including the 10 new ones or so that I just bought. I have gotten rid of a few of the sets I read in high school but for the most part, I keep everything. A lot of them I've never read but I certainly expect to someday (included in that is Churchill's history of WWII, along with several other Churchill books). I just realized I've run completely out of bookshelf space - again. My parents raised me with a passionate love of books and, as much as I love film, nothing could ever be quite as deep rooted as that passion is. Thank you for sharing your love of the same. :)
Ebert: Your book collection "just" grew by 2.5 percent. At that rate... :)
Thank you for this post. I think the comments show an interesting dichotomy: book readers vs. book lovers vs. young book lovers (book infatuations?).. and on and on.
Your journal entry brought some of my own recent book memories to light, and inspired me to write my own book lover's piece (referencing yours). read it here if you like: http://www.nothingforeveryone.com/ogre/blog/
I cannot imagine my life without books. And as I get older my feelings have only intensified, where as other desires/hobbies have tapered off or mellowed out. A book lover's life indeed.
Ebert: You write: "At the Waffle House we sit there like three ducks in a row, each with a book out, slowly making our way through breakfast. Eventually one of us laughs or exclaims in some way, inviting another to ask for details and slowly stories of the stories we are reading are shared amongst each other. The lady sitting 90 degrees to me kept looking at us. Her expressions were both curious and just a bit hostile. Nothing serious; a typical reaction we get from time to time."
Yeah, like what are those people doing reading?
Fitzgerald hopes that you'll be a dynamic character, even.
I found a Sentry Edition of Willa Cather's "My Antonia" this weekend in a used book store in the annex and am already mesmerized. Inside the front cover is this handwrote inscription in faint blue ink:
Gail:
It's a pleasure to introduce Antonia of whom I am very fond. I think, perhaps, you could be very much alike.
Bill Slouder (spl?)
R.R.#1, Kapaa, Kauai, Hawaii
I wish there was a date. The cover is made of this cloth like paper of amazing texture...sturdy spine with one light brown streak - probably coffee or tea.
Kindle what?
Ebert: I have an identical edition, my first of three (Knopf, Library of America). I swear that cover can be left out in the rain.
And you are mesmerized? Willa Cather inspires one with a strong inclination to continue reading. No one else in modern fiction has created more memorable women. They aren't all heroines. A Lost Lady will break your heart. She loved her men equally. She heard their dreams.
What a pity! I've been searching for Suttree all over and even my son in Mumbai has drawn a blank. Last page of Gatsby is really memorable....with his alcoholism he must really have felt the futility of striking against the current...what a luxury to be able to just let go at some point...
Books are like people. Most are good, some are truly good, a very few are transcendent, and a bunch are bad. I keep and reread the good to transcendent and get rid of the bad. I'm also a heavy patron of my local library because I can't possibly buy and keep all the books that I want.
I'm a proud computer geek, and have been since the mid '80s, but I'm not particularly enamored of the Kindle and similar devices. I like to own what I buy, and I like that books have just about the most perfect form factor and user interface available. The only thing missing from a paper book is an electronic file's quick search feature. But then, nothing is perfect.
richard voza said: "If this truly the greatest American novel, wouldn't it have been praised right out of the gate?"
Not necessarily. Moby Dick was a flop. If I recall correctly it only began attracting widespread critical praise in the 1920's. Didn't Poe die broke and unappreciated?
As for the merits of The Great Gatsby, I think most people miss the point that the book is not really about Gatsby, it is about the maturation and moral growth of Nick after his experiences with Gatsby, Daisy, Tom, etc.
And yes, the passage about "the fresh green breast of the New World" is still the greatest single page in American literature.
Has anyone ever NOT finished a book because it might have been too heart-wrenching to know how the too-real characters fared? Or too difficult to let them leave your life? Wouk's "Winds of War." John R. Maxim's "Time out of Mind." Robert McGammon's "Boy's Life." [NOT "This Boy's Life by Tobias Wolff.] At the bedside waiting. . . Just a thought. Love to know others' feelings about this. Thanks as always, Dear Ebert. Cassandra
Mr. Ebert, this particular blog post has sent me down the path to financial ruin. Shame on you. (Or not?) I've been unemployed for a while now and kind of alternating between living with my mother and my sister and saving what little money I have. But I read this and I think, "if I'm going to be poor, I ought at least to have some pleasure." So I've been visiting a used book store: my wallet has been emptied, coins rolled and turned in to the bank to be converted to bills and those, too, go from my hands to those of the lady behind the counter at the book store. This is a fairly small town I live in, a college town about two hours from St. Louis, so the book stores and video stores and libraries are occasionally lacking and I wonder if I might exhaust my options. That's what I was thinking today as I went to the bookstore today with one book on my mind and came out with three in my hand, two of which I had not even noticed the other times I'd visited that store. I suppose it is actually quite difficult to run out of choices in a bookstore.
I hope one day to be a published author myself, something I inherited from my father, who now knows that he'll never be published. A friend of mine once said that children are supposed to be better versions of their parents. I wonder how many writers have found inspiration from parents who were failed writers? I know of at least one: Philip K. Dick, who is one of my favorites. I discovered him in high school and have recently discovered the most important writer to have possibly taken influence from him -- Thomas Pynchon.
You mention upthread alibris.com. I'll have to look into it. I've never heard of that one before, but I have used abebooks.com.
Ebert: No! No! Don't get started!
I was raised to love to read. Books were always available. To get one's library card as soon as we could scrawl our name in pencil was a thrill. I visit the library weekly,whether I ever read half the books I check out or not. Often my eyes are too tired to read as much as I used to. I encourage every parent, please take the time to read aloud to your children. The benefits are infinite.
Books will Never go out of fashion, as they are ties to our past, to our joys, connections to our children, dreams to our grandchildren. If I DO find I have books I no longer want to store I donate them or put them anonymously in the library return box!
Thanks for another good read Roger.
when so much interpretting must be done to explain a book's "real" meaning, it seems forced, as if people (not "you" people but those who fashion themselves as collegiate literary authorities) must work in order to find a way to justify and interpret what it "really" is about.
without copying what i wrote in my blog review, there are too many illogical, poorly written events for the book to be so great. it needed to be known that someone was cheating on his wife. instead of really "writing" a way for that to be known, someone just casually mentions it to a stranger so it can be overheard. add the contrivance of daisy driving the car that kills myrtle, that daisy just happens to be driving by when myrtle runs into the street. if myrtle needed to die, there were many other ways for that to happen. it would have been more fitting, and better writing, for her to have jumped off the roof in a suicidal leap. it's similar to the convenience in the stand when god reaches out of the sky to stop the nuclear missles.
as for van gogh, visual art is different. it is literally possible for a monkey to paint something indistinguishable from a jackson pollack.
yes, of course not everything is hot right out of the gate. i wonder what attention was given to 2001 upon release? citizen kane? the godfather? apocalypse, now? if a book is going to be considered THE greatest novel, shouldn't it amount to something before the author dies and people look back to see what he had done? it's not as if people suddenly realized in 1940 that fitzgerald may have written something good. the guy died. if he were still alive, would anyone have thought to check to see if gatsby were ready for attention?
regardless, the spirit of debate is fabulous. there are no facts of greatness, nor the contrary, because the only true value is to the individual. above all, i'm honored to exist in a time and place when minds from so many places, physically and intellectually, can serve and volley. even more, i appreciate that we can separate the person from the opinion and not resort to fox news. in three words, this is fun.
When I was seven or eight years old, my grandmother let me borrow her copy of one of the Penrod books. I couldn't have it, because she wanted it back. I was really curious as to what could be so great about it that this most generous of women would want it back after I was done with it. I laughed so hard I cried. Then I gave it back.
Ebert: Look what I found!'
http://j.mp/11xRNu
Download in PDF format.
Oh Roger. I'm that way, too, but I've forced myself to stop buying to actually read the 100 or so unread paperbacks on my shelf.
Here's a working pdf of all Penrod novels, by the way.
Don't know where else to post this, but a) damned good article about 3-D, Roger. Never have seen one. Now I'm gonna hafta, or else I'll just be thinking your thoughts -- as well turned as they are. b)I love, love, love Jack Chick's comics. Thanks for the twitter.
I think it was Stephen Jay Gould who wrote back in the 90s that indeed the planet must have had a higher oxygen content to support dinosaurs, though. It was the highly blackballed Velikovsky who first put forth that idea, decades beforehand. He said that an explosion on Saturn did it, and the myth of Noah is a folk-memory of the event.
I just can't get anywhere with my idea that dinosaurs haven't actually happened yet. Those bones are slowly forming in the ground, see. That's as far as I've gotten with the movie, except that the idea of a big tyrannosaurus eye peeking in somebody's window would be neat... guess Spielberg already did that, tho'.
Richard Voza, what is sound about your reasoning about "the Greatest novel?" The bible wasn't dashed together until 320 A.D, and it wasn't for a thousand five hundred years it became a hit. Of course it had had a great deal of advance publicity. It's the biggest selling book in the world, and almost nobody's actually read it. Nobody knew who Jesus was until long after he disappeared.
And even Doctor Seuss was rejected all over the place before Bennett Cerf took a chance on him. Same with J.K. Rowling, who, like many many authors of the past, will be forgotten despite her some-hundred million sales -- while my own novel, UNTIL THE LAST COALS DIE, will be a hit only after my mortal coil has long turned to dust. Just as soon as I think of something besides a title.
Oh, I learned a very interesting fact today. Who is the biggest selling nonfiction author in history? Anybody? Anybody?
Erich von Daniken, that's who. 63 million copies and counting.
It's kinda unsettling to know that -- like when I learned that Slim Whitman outsold the Beatles. Never underestimate a yodeler OR a high school graduate.
Ebert: "Slim Whitman outsold the Beatles. "
I flat out don't believe this.
When it comes to throwing away books, I make a distinction between fiction and non-fiction. I can throw away non-fiction (not easily, but I can do it). I can't throw away fiction. Same goes for magazines. I can throw away the latest issue of Time or Newsweek without a problem, but I'll keep a copy of the New Yorker fiction issue forever.
My favorite quote about libraries: Harlan Ellison says that whenever a visitor first sees his library they invariably ask the same question - "Have you actually read all these books?" To which he replies, "No. Who'd want a library full of books he's already read?"
Ebert: "Slim Whitman outsold the Beatles. "
I flat out don't believe this.
Sit down, young fella. I had to sit down too when I heard it. Need a drink? Oh, that's right, you don't drink. This news came through the Columbus Dispatch in '74 or '75, as I recall. By then Slim was selling direct to the public and had done pretty well. The numbers totaled over 30 million from 1948 onward, see, which at that point, the Beatles hadn't reached. He'd always done very well in Europe. I couldn't find the numbers searching for it just now, but Wikipedia lends some credibility:
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Slim_Whitman#Discography
Wiki doesn't make it clear, but Slim was selling direct from TV-to-you in the early 70s, not just '79.
That article says Slim's 1955 UK hit stayed on the charts longer than any other pop tune, a record that stood for 36 years. Fancy that, he even beat out Michael Jackson. AND, it says, he's still alive.
Loooon-a Paloma Blan-ca-a-AAAH, I'm just a bird in the sky. I hate, hate, hated that commercial and the photo of the man with the lasso-piped shirt and ferret's mustache. Mentioning that to my smarter older brother brought on this news. He was partial to Frankie Goes to Hollywood, himself.
Ebert: This commercial?
http://www.ebaumsworld.com/video/watch/80708474/
What's going on with Slim's widow's peak?
Ebert: I have an identical edition, my first of three (Knopf, Library of America). I swear that cover can be left out in the rain.
Don't know the other two, but I think I'm in love with this edition. The texture is so perfectly suited for the book too. I can see it surviving the Nebraska wildness. Want more books in Sentry now, can't believe I didn't know about this.
I'm slowly working through it on daily commute. It's getting a little annoying though, having to put it down after 20-30 pages in every time. I find that the book is so absorbing that it's frustrating to be pulled out of it so quickly. Definitely need to set aside a day this weekend by the window to see it through.
Ebert: Willa Cather's stories just seem to be happening to you. She has such love and sympathy. You'll have to read her Quebec novel, Shadows on the Rock.
A few impertinent observations:
- - Selling more copies than anyone else means any or all of the following:
1) You were hugely prolific during your lifetime.
2) You did a great job of publicizing yourself and your work.
3) Your descendants work golden time keeping your name alive and your work in print.
All three of these precepts apply in the case of Dame Agatha Christie, as noted above. When she first hit big in the '20s, she became a 'media celebrity'; the newspapers followed her comings and goings diligently, including the breakup of her marriage, her disappearance and return, her happy remarriage and embrace of archeology, and the annual appearance of 'a Christie for Christmas' right up tp the end of her life. Even today, her grandson, Mathew Prichard, is always swinging one deal or another to keep Dame Agatha's works alive in all media. Compare that with many 'bestsellers' from more recent times who have all but vanished from human memory because nobody's beating the drums for them now.
- - About venues for resding:
Some years back, on my way in to the office, the elevator I was on got stuck between floors. It was around 9 am, and I was alone. I used the emergency phone to call building security and tell them I was stuck, and to call my office and tell them where I was. I used the waiting time to read a few more chapters of the book I was reading. All told I was in that elevator for about twenty minutes two cahpters worth. When I finally got to th office, everybody was surprised at how calm I was; they all seemed to think I should have been paralyzed with dread. Maybe I should have been: the book I was reading was a thriller, When The Dark Man Calls, by Stuart Kaminsky. It's a pretty chilling story, but it took my mind off the stuck elevator quite nicely. The incident comes to mind now because of Stuart Kaminsky's death last Friday, which has gone largely unnoticed even here in his home town of Chicago. It seemed appropriate for this thread, so I'm putting it here. RIP, Mr. Kaminsky (and Toby Peters, Abe Lieberman, Lew Fonesca, and Porfiry Rostnikov).
- -As a kid, one of the first series of books I ever got interested in was the Freddy the Pig stories by Walter Brooks. The books were about talking animals who lived on a farm in upstate New York, which sounds too cute by half. But Brooks was a very funny writer; the Freddy books were my introduction to satire.Politics, war, social trends, enacted by farm animals and laugh-out-loud funny. I got these books out of our public library, and they added much to my appreciation of parody and satire. Years later, a coulple of the Freddy books appeared intrade paperback, and I was hoping for a revival of the whole series; alas, nothing more came of it (and damnit, I don't even have the paperbacks anymore).
Side note: At the same time he was writing the Freddy books, Walter Brooks had aseries of short stories running in the Saturday Evening Post about a talking horse called Mister Ed. Bantam put out a paperback collection of some of the stories as a tie-in with the TV show, but the magazine stories are just a tad racier than the show - Mister Ed drinks beer and cusses, among other things.
I wish I still had all of this stuff.
I think I'll go back to that other thread and watch Mitch and the Gang:
"Gee, but I'd give the world to see
That old gang of mine..."
Ebert: Oh, no, Stuart Kaminsky died? I knew him when he was teaching at Northwestern.
Didn't Bill Hicks have a bit about reading in a Waffle House?
Thank you again and again, Mr. Ebert, for this post. I am a book lover practically from infancy. My siblings are 7,8 and 9 years older than I am, and from the day I was born my father read to me. At the time we lived in a one story ranch house, and my dad would sit out in the hall every night, with his pewter mug full of ice water by his side, and open our bedroom doors and read to all of us at the same time. He was like the father in Cheaper By The Dozen - it was efficient to read to all his children in one sitting. Of course, when they were teenagers I was still young enough to be read to, so I got him all to myself eventually.
My dad never read before he married my mother, a major book lover, but when he died he had a collection of about 1,200 books. He favored humor, so when I inherited his collection it consisted of such authors as Cerf, Buchwald, Rooney, Wodehouse, Bombeck, Woollcott, Barry and Marx. And one Stephen King. It was Nightmares and Dreamscapes, and who knows why he bought it, as it was so unlike the rest of his collection. Maybe it was on sale, or he got a vibe from it. Turns out it had a story in it called You Know They Got a Hell of a Band, that tickled him to no end. Not the story, so much, but because The main characters were Clark and Mary, from Portland, Oregon, and my mom and dad were Clark and Mary, and they lived in Portland. He liked it so much because he felt immortalized, I guess!
Anyway, one last thank you for the post, especially because of the comments from your readers. I've been surrounded for several years by good people who nonetheless are not readers and who don't understand my love for books, and the people writing in have reaffirmed my faith that the written word is not dead and that I'm not alone.
Ebert: I love the great humor writers. S. J.Perelman: "A bead of sweat formed on his brow, nearly obscuring it."
That was such a nice journal entry. It reminded me of my own love of books.
I recently backpacked to Europe and couldn't resist entering every single bookstore I came across. It is not necessary to say that my backpacking load had doubled towards the end of the journey.
Ah... but it is rewarding to find good and cheap hidden jewels in the various book fairs across Spain or Barcelona, or beautiful deluxe editions found in a hidden art book store in Florence.
Hell, I think I'd do it all over again just to go book shopping.
Thanks for the inspiration, Roger!
BURST OUT LAUGHING at the comment from Tom Dark [MUST be a non de plume!] about his work which would be best-seller "just as soon as i think of something besides a title." Separated at birth! Maybe a myth, but supposedly Bob Dylan wrote a song that was simply titles of yet-unwritten songs. So much creativity, so little time. Cassandra
Slim Whitman out sold the Beatles? That would be so wrong; and, my opinion of my fellow man would even be lower ... just like if that guy you currently like -- the 'Venus Song' guy were to become famous.
BTW, it sounds like real upbeat novel you have there, Dark, but no worse than mine called: (keeping mine a secret).
---------------------------------
Yes, Vosa you touch upon those curious discrepancies that might later be used to pinch off cherished and revered finials to a people's pride.
But, part of the beauty of art is that people do not at first see those flaws owing to the art itself, and the deliberate craftsmanship of the artist.
In this case you may have a point; and, It doesn't always work, as with Ed Wood's over simplified special effects, or Baron Von Munchausen's opportunistic bravado for story telling, but 'it could happen' without it being 'stranger than fiction' ... with Daisy running her car over Myrtle.
BTW, Neither man or beast has produced anything as beautiful, or approaching consistency in quality of the body of work Van Gogh painted -- and he was correctly deemed a very good draughtsman and skilled colorest.
I visited Pollack's barn where he painted; and actually walked upon his paintings left upon the floor in special cotton shoes, he did have something no ape could have done.
As a librarian-in-training and owner of a good many books myself, this post makes me happy to no end. :)
Anybody read this?
http://j.mp/1b4Qei
Damn. I kept thinking, here we were hiding James T. Farrell's Studs Lonigan stories under our mattresses, and there he was, just a couple miles away, never imagining kids were hiding his books under mattresses...
tom dark,
yes! your book will live on, just as mine will. my first novel, currently in the hands of an editor, is called the curse. chapters 1 through 8 can be read at the link on my name above. the other 16 chapters are finished but not back from the editor yet. should an agent or publisher happen to stumble upon it, i'll be glad to show you the whole book. another novel, room 317, can be found on that same site and is ready for me to overcome my laziness attempt to sell it. i'm getting great feedback on both from the writers and readers on the site where it's posted. www.fanstory.com.
roger,
if there is a policy against posting some of the information i've typed, i'll understand if you must delete/edit it.
Hey Rog,
Found this in my mailbox and thought of you.
The Washington Post runs a weekly contest in its Style section called
the 'Style Invitational.' The requirements one week were to use the two words, 'Lewinsky' (the Intern) and 'Kaczynski,' (the Unabomber) in the same limerick. The following winning entries were actually printed verbatim in the newspaper:
Third place:
There once was a girl named Lewinsky
Who played on a flute like Stravinsky
'Twas 'Hail to the Chief'
On this flute made of beef
That stole the front page from Kaczynski.
Second place:
Said Clinton to young Ms. Lewinsky,
We don't want to leave clues like Kaczynski,
Since you made such a mess,
Use the hem of your dress
And please wipe that stuff off your chinsky.
And the winning entry:
Lewinsky and Clinton have shown
What Kaczynski must surely have known,
That an intern is better
Than a bomb in a letter,
When deciding how best to be blown.
Ebert: Brilliant. Alas, a check indicates that the Washington Post ran no such contest. It did however inevitably inspire me:
I asked for an RSVP
For an orgy combined with a tea.
Dostoevsky and Stravinsky
And Lewinsky and Kaczynski
Came and fucked with the petite bourgeoisie.
@ [snotty] cassandra -
"Has anyone ever NOT finished a book because it might have been too heart-wrenching to know how the too-real characters fared?"
The end of a great book is like the view from a top a mountain; once you've reached it, there's no where left to go but down.
And for that reason, for not wanting the journey to end, I've stopped short of finishing many a novel (I'll put it off for days) before finally reading the last 20 pages or so.
This flies in the face of my Otter-like curiousity, I know. I'm utterly pathological when it comes to ferreting out information. I find the loose change on the sofa no one else can. And yet...
The thought of having to say goodbye to the journey is often more than I can bear. Not even curiousity has been enough at times to quicken my pace, as I reach the last few steps before seeing that mountain top view.
Some novels however inspire the opposite, their weaker parts too excruciating to bear and so I'll rush through those bits - the middle of Nabokov's Lolita moves like molasses, for example. And Tolstoy's War and Peace is one of the most over-rated literary epics I've ever read. The ending... OMG. Blah, blah, blah, wordy blah blah.
Chuckle!
Hemingway is over-rated too, imo. (And yes I'm biased as I found him quite off-putting.)
MUCH better are the adventures of the Melendy children! :)
Clinton once bragged to Lewinsky:
"Got this 'splodin' cigar from Kaczynski!"
She uttered "Well, Dang!
That oughta be a great bang!
Be a darling and shove that butt inski."
Tho' Roger regrets poor Kaminsky
And rhymes his ripostes with "Lewinsky"
He won't be convinsky
Slim Whitman was Kingsky
'til faced with a bomb from Kaczynski.
How come my detailed, scholarly facts about Slim Whitman outselling the Beatles hasn't posted yet? I'm gettin' clobbered heah. It was true as of 1975 or so. STILL a shocker. I concluded that Leutonia, Brusnik-Tolstein and Clovania all had much larger populations than we'd imagined.
You know there's a big statue of Frank Zappa in Latvia, don't you? Or is that Estonia?
Cassandra! Is that you!!! Mom and Dad could afford only a girl, so I was raised by coyotes. Still am. They're outside howling right now.
This unexpected reunion has inspired me, so now I've got the ending for UNTIL THE LAST COALS DIE.
Jerry and Sherry stared gloomily into the dying fire. It was flickering to its ineluctable conclusion, just as the once vivacious couple were now doing, one feeble spark at a time.
"I love you, Jerry," said Sherry.
"And I love you, Sherry," replied Jerry.
Outside the blizzard roared on. A wisp of snow puffed down the chimney and onto the hearth.
THE END.
Not bad, eh? All I have to do now is reverse-engineer it. Hey, Voza, can we tack it onto the end of yours?
I love this description of your room and your books. Thanks!
It's easier to watch six screen versions of Hamlet than to read it again. Reading is a different kind of tranquillity. I've barely wormed it to around 40 pages of Faust-a long pending enterprise. Dante and Milton are also blanks I would like to fill.
@Marie Haws:I could never muster the courage for War and Peace but Anna Karenina was certainly a great read, to the extent it felt it was happening to you. Getting the right translation is important. I have yet to locate a modern enough Montaigne. Favourite Tolstoi's are Death of Ivan Ilyich(50 pages) and Kreutzer Sonata(same size). His longer Idiot(quite shorter than W&P or AK) is also gripping. Tolstoi is certainly not a boring writer. His power of observation of tiny details of daily life with strikingly original words, never abandoning restraint is his own(most evident in Anna Karenina, which someone called the most spiritual novel in the world)....I enjoy looking at your blog. The photographs of decrepit architecture and the still lives are very appealing.
On the topic of Slim Whitman outselling the Beatles, Roger's well-honed crap detector has served him well. The claim is a long-standing factoid, sometimes rendered as "Slim Whitman outsold Elvis and the Beatles combined." Our friends at Wikipedia tell us that the actual claim made on Whitman's 1979 TV commercial was that he "was number one in England longer than Elvis and The Beatles." This is perfectly true, for what it's worth: his 1955 single "Rose Marie" was #1 in England for 11 weeks, longer than any record until the 1990s. In terms of sales, this means only that it sold better than the other records in release during each of those 11 weeks. It tells us nothing about how its sales would compare to any record released a decade later, when the baby-boom-driven market for records was larger.
The Wiki article was wrong, Terry -- as I pointed out above. Slim's TV commercials were on for years before that. I know 'cuz I watched 'em, as also mentioned. The Columbus Dispatch article, not the TV commercials, which didn't make the later '79 claims, said something like 30 million by the Beatles at that time, and 35 million for ol' Slim. Since he'd been selling since 1948 and the Beatles since '62 ('64 in the U.S.), not an incredible claim. So don't be dissin' a perfectly good widow's peak on a yodeler who knocked 'em dead all over Leutonia.
Roger's posted a 1980s commercial, not the ones from the early 70s. Those were the ones where you'd get sick of hearing "Luna Paloma Blanca" every commercial break between the late-nite flicks. There was no mention of what he'd sold on them, just the guy with the cowboy-piping shirt and the 1940s used-car-dealer kind of face. I expect some copywriter picked up the old wire news item and ran with it for years... stretching it a bit... Elvis had sold 50 million by the early 70s.
So! Roger! D'you promise to stick to film criticism from now on? ;)
(just opening myself to a riposte)
Ebert: The YouTube description of this clip:
Andy Kaufman introduces Slim Whitman and watches dumbfoundedly while he performs "I Remember You" on the Midnight Special, available on DVD.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=JH64weKPF60
I've always loved books and can't bring myself to throw them away. I have many that I've never read and some I probably never will. I have this problem of buying more before I even open the ones I have. I always have the desire to read them, but usually find myself doing something else to pass my free time. If I never read all of the books I own I know I'll wish I had taken the time to. There is so much nowadays to fill someone's time that some people don't seem to know what a book is. I've even noticed that some people act like books are their Kryptonite. If they come within a few feet of a book they seem to shrink back in fear for their life. A lot of people have become so ignorant nowadays that I feel like handing them a book and saying, "Here, try this. It may cure your disease."
I forgot to mention a great website for finding books. I know some people have a huge problem with collecting books so I almost feel like a drug pusher doing this, but the site is http://www.alibris.com That site is pretty great. It has the inventory of used book stores from all over North America. I've even been able to find copies of old library books I used to check out from my elementary school's library.
"Therefore the flight shall perish from the swift, and the strong shall not strengthen his force, neither shall the mighty deliver himself." - Roger
YEAH.........!!
SCORE! 3.5 STARS. :)
Right into the 'ol onion bag bag! HAH! Take that laddies! Grin.
Roger Ebert has given "The Damned United" thumbs up! Not that I care of course but, well... smile.
http://www.sonypictures.co.uk/movies/thedamnedunited/#/home/
I've been waiting and waiting for like EVER, for Roger to see this movie! It's set to hit North American theaters in March 2009. However - it's been available on DVD in the UK since August; cough. :)
And now you see, eh?! You get it, right?! THE BEAUTIFUL GAME.
"Some people believe football is a matter of life and death, I am very disappointed with that attitude. I can assure you it is much, much more important than that." Bill Shankly, Liverpool FC
Seriously though, it's a brilliant movie! You don't have to know anything about football to enjoy it - it's not about the sport; it's about what it means. :)
But wait, there's more! Seems "Where the Wild Things Are" doesn't suck either! Awesome! 3 STARS...
http://wherethewildthingsare.warnerbros.com/
My only "quibble" is that thanks to the Sopranos, James Gandolfini has a immediately recognizable voice, so for that reason I wish they'd chosen someone else for his character. As even in the trailer, it's pulling me out of the movie.
"Oh Hey! Tony Soprano!" That sort of thing.
But that aside it looks great! Note: I loved that book as kid.
@ S. M. Rana - "I could never muster the courage for War and Peace.."
Sigh; I was 16 years old (1982) and going through a pretentious Russian literature phase like something out of a Woody Allen movie. I even studied basic Russian, which I have long since forgotten; chuckle!
War and Peace is as thick as a phone book, and I read it in 3 days over a long weekend. I remember wanting to toss it by page 250 and for not giving a crap about any of the characters. I never got into, it never gripped me, yet I continued to plow through it for thinking that at any minute, it was going to suddenly grab me and show me what the fuss was all about.
Nope.
I remember a boorish lout of a Russian officer out with his fellow wanks, watching a dancing bear and being amused. I remember an aristocratic girl attending a ball and sighing over some romance. And the never-ending misery of cold and hungry peasants with the potato-based Vodka. And the fear of Napoleon and the French. And then this big long boring essay on social politics at the end that had me looking in my desk drawer for a gun.
OH MY GOD, but what a boring book! Laugh!
Note: thought I'd pass this along - free classic ebooks online in PDF format!
http://www.planetebook.com/
"I enjoy looking at your blog. The photographs of decrepit architecture and the still lives are very appealing." - S. M. Rana
Thanks! I love decrepitude. Seriously; I can prove it! Hang on - I need to grab a screen capture from the opening sequence for the BBC's "Life on Mars" series - okay, here ya go!
http://www3.telus.net/thiliasspace/Marie/jpegs/mars2.jpg
See that burnt sienna brick wall? And the dirty grey-green bricks below them? That is one of the most BEAUTIFUL walls I have ever seen.
I want that wall. I'm going to paint that wall on a big canvas one day; that's how much I love those decrepit old bricks. For it inspires such things, so many things, they make my head swim with ideas...
I see fabric, textured fabric. I see Aran knit sweaters...
http://ahknits.typepad.com/.a/6a00d834534e3169e200e553e2f8ab8834-500wi
I see stuff like this cushion by Indian designer Varsha Sharma for her store "Anek Taanka" which means infinite stitches...
http://indianbydesign.files.wordpress.com/2008/09/windblade-collectioncushions_windblades_01_l.jpg
Take the colors off that brick wall now and transfer them to the cushion, eh?! Make those "shingles" much smaller, 1/2 inch, and now make a dress that moves with your body like an articulated lobster tail or chainmail.
Remember the gold credit card dress worn by Costume Designer Lizzy Gardiner to the Oscars in 1995..?
http://inlinethumb36.webshots.com/43619/2704059550104606292S600x600Q85.jpg
See where I'm going? See where else you can..?
It's a dirty, decrepit old wall somewhere in Manchester, England. God only knows what you could find on it - urine and puke, to be sure. And I knew the minute I saw it - DAMN, but there's wall for you, Marie. Look at that, what a beauty!
People always wonder where artists get their ideas. Now ya know. :)
Season 2: episode 6 is where I left things. There's 2 more ep's to go and then that's all she wrote of the adventures of Sam Tyler. It's been a hell of a trip back to 1973...
Life On Mars Tribute: David Bowie from the opening sountrack
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=a8UmmXn3iYw
"Life on Mars"
It's a God-awful small affair
To the girl with the mousy hair
But her mummy is yelling, "No!"
And her daddy has told her to go
But her friend is nowhere to be seen
Now she walks through her sunken dream
To the seat with the clearest view
And she's hooked to the silver screen
But the film is a sadd'ning bore
For she's lived it ten times or more
She could spit in the eyes of fools
As they ask her to focus on
Sailors
Fighting in the dance hall
Oh, man
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh, man
Wonder if he'll ever know
Who's in the best-selling show
Is there life on Mars?
It's on America's tortured brow
That Mickey Mouse has grown up a cow
Now the workers have struck for fame
'Cause Lennon's on sale again
See the mice in their million hordes
From Ibiza to the Norfolk Broads
Rule Britannia is out of bounds
To my mother, my dog, and clowns
But the film is a sadd'ning bore
'Cause I wrote it ten times or more
It's about to be writ again
As I ask you to focus on
Sailors
Fighting in the dance hall
Oh, man
Look at those cavemen go
It's the freakiest show
Take a look at the lawman
Beating up the wrong guy
Oh, man
Wonder if he'll ever know
Who's in the best-selling show
Is there life on Mars?
Ah, Bowie; ya poet. :)
Just discovered this wonderful blog. Thanks so very much. As for those whose spouse's do not understand, in my own case my wife and I both have the safe affliction/obsession/delight. There are several thousand books, er, too many to count, walking up the walls in our basement either on shelves or in precarious piles, similar on a smaller scale in our living room and worse in our bedroom, piles and piles wrapped around and piled almost as high as the bed. As for the idea if you read a book once you should get rid of it, we reread and reread and read again.
I'm sad about Stuart Kaminsky.
In mystery, he's much like Stravinsky.
But Monica and Ted
Make me so depress-ed'
That I start to miss Roman Pucinski.
Sorry that I was the one to break the news.
Well, I YouTubed the Slim Whitman clip Roger posted. Not only that, I let the clips run while working. I never to this day realized what a singer ol' used-car-dealer-face really was -- oops, is, as he's still alive and kicking. All I'd ever heard was that "Luna Paloma Blanca" commercial and I think "I Remember You" when I was a little kid. Good god. I might sacrifice a toe for that kind of talent.
Much accordance here about reading certain works when older to appreciate them properly. Same with music. My ears at the time were still stuffed with Beatles and so forth. Youth tends to dismiss passionately much that came before him as irrelevant and rather silly... as did I, at least in music. I'm sorry I made fun of Bob Holton to his face, whose brand new piano I'd broken, who was a kingpin in Country Western Music publishing. But he'd met kids like me before.
I've been enjoying reading everyone's thoughts and stories about books, so I thought I'd relate a recent one of my own.
My 81-year-old Grandmother is currently moving to a new house by the ocean and she offered to give me a small collection of books that had been hidden away for years and never read (not by her anyway).
I of course accepted and when I got them home I was thrilled to discover that among them were 15 mint condition leather-bound books that belonged to my great-great-grandfather (whom I was named after) and my great-grandfather.
They are all school prizes, each containing a little certificate stating the school name, the headmaster, the form, the year, and the reason for the prize – mostly Greek, Latin, English, writing, and one is for “neatness”.
None of them are classics, but they include such interesting titles as “Darkness and Dawn: scenes in the days of Nero” (published 1894), “The Wits and Beaux of Society” (1883), “The Story of the Persian War” (1893), “Ants, Bees, and Wasps: a record of observations on the habits of the social hymenoptera” (1898), “Boys Who Became Famous” (1914), “The Story of Nations: the Saracens” (1892), “Early English Voyagers (1892), and “Tales of Ancient Greece” (1891).
The oldest is a “Sporting Magazine”, bound in leather and about 500 pages long, containing numerous short stories and poems about sport. It was published 1832 and I’m not sure who the original owner was but it has the name of my great-great-grandfather (with a handwritten date of 1895) which was then crossed out and replaced with the name of his son, my great-grandfather. It’s in poor condition, but what is especially interesting about this one is that it’s full of drawings and scribbles done with pencils and crayons. Some seem to be caricatures of people they knew and others are just mindless scribbles that I can imagine them doing in class while the teacher was talking.
It pleases me to think of how my great-great-grandfather and my great-grandfather, when they were only boys, once held, read and perhaps treasured these books (most of them well over a century ago), and now here I sit with them in my hands, able to absorb the same words and ideas. It’s like they once held a piece of string that continued to unravel through time and now here I am holding the other end. The books probably still wear their fingerprints and maybe even contain their DNA. I spent an hour yesterday clearing a bookshelf for them so that I’ll always have a vivid reminder of the past and the importance of books.
p.s. In response to the posts in this thread I ordered 1st editions of Penrod, Penrod and Sam, and Penrod Jashber (which were surprisingly easy to get – my guess is that people inherited them, and not knowing their value, just sold them to secondhand bookshops).
Ebert: Those are priceless.
Apart from anything else, Tarkington in the Penrod books was a fine humorist. Those books get better when you're an adult.
hey tom,
i'm glad you called me just "voza." that's what my friends call me. my enemies don't call me at all.
if you want to add that to the end of my novel, you'll have to read it and see if it fits. it might. the curse is about a slave owner who pays a "gypsy" (a slur, i know, but i don't know what else to say) to put a curse on his slaves to keep them from running away. however, there are conditions on the curse. the slave owner doesn't live up to the conditions, so the curse backfires against his own family.
TOM DARK: "The Wiki article was wrong, Terry -- as I pointed out above. Slim's TV commercials were on for years before that. I know 'cuz I watched 'em, as also mentioned. The Columbus Dispatch article, not the TV commercials, which didn't make the later '79 claims, said something like 30 million by the Beatles at that time, and 35 million for ol' Slim."
Tom, I am second to none in my admiration for the Columbus Dispatch, but according to the Guinness Book of Records of 1971 the Beatles by September 1970 had sold 133 million discs (74 million singles, 3 million EP's and 56 million albums)which represents 416 million in singles equivalents. An album equals 6 units, an EP 2 units and a single 1 unit.
According to the Guinness Book of Records 1976 the Beatles sales were 545 million singles equivalents by June 1972.
According to the 1981 Guinness Book of Records the Beatles sales by the end of 1978 were 100 million singles and 100 million albums.
Any interaction with the other South African Nobel Literature Laureate John Coetzee while he was (is?) at UC?
Ebert: Nope.
Thank you for another wonderful article. As I am writing this the rain is falling outside, and I am about to go sit by the window with a cup of tea and read a mystery novel as the drops splash the dark asphalt. Life truly is filled with wondrous things.
Thanks again for sharing your love of films and books with us. You are a great writer, sir.
I am hurt, Terry, hurt, that you would prefer statements from the Guinness Book of records over my fuzzy memory of an old article in the Columbus Dispatch. Hurt.
Yeah, Voza, it sounds more natural, don't know why. I did start reading your ms.
Hi Roger,
I am fortunate enough to be married to a librarian. We have a substantial home library of our own, filled with an odd array of classics, antiques, references, and childrens books. Whenever the public library decides to "retire" a book, she gets first pick... and frequently brings home lonely, forgotten books, in much the same way a child will lovingly drag home a stray cat. No book is unwelcome in our home!
My wife simply cannot bear the thought of a book tossed in the garbage... and I'm pretty sure she would rather get rid of all her clothes or shoes, before she let go of one of her books.
A couple of years ago, my wife got inspired and decided to arrange all our books by the Dewey decimal system. It took her a couple weeks, but when she was done, it was really nice. Now, if I need to find a dictionary, or lookup a Shakespeare quote, I know just where to find things. It sounds like you could benefit from hiring a temp librarian to come in and arrange your collection? It really makes a big difference, and there is great satisfaction from arranging the books in a dignified, "honorable" manner -- giving them the respect they deserve. You would get a kick out of it!
I should also add -- if you skim home decorating magazines at all, you will find that having a "personal library" in your home is starting to pick up as a new fashion trend. A well-done home library, even a small one, can really spiffy up a place.
God bless!
Ebert: Rather than ever throwing out books, or simply dumping them in a used book fund-raiser, is occurred to me to sell them on Alibris for modest prices, to assure they went to someone who really wanted them.
Checked out Alibris. Easy enough for an individual user to sell through them, but you have to post in a database form, and I'm intimidated. Anyone have any experience?
It's not a coincidence that Myrtle WIlson runs out in front of the car Daisy is driving. The novel sets up quite clearly that Tom Buchanan has presented that car as his own. Myrtle thinks she is running out into the street to get her lover to rescue her from her husband, who has locked her up and is going to move her away.
In any case, like a lot of great novels, the plot of The Great Gatsby is not the point. You could pretty much write the plot on a napkin, as you could with Moby-Dick.
Fitzgerald's achievement in that book is the style, and how the style works with the themes. I was amused to see someone call his style "conversational." It's anything but. It's over-the top gorgeous, as in these three excerpts:
The lawn started at the beach and ran toward the front door for a quarter of a mile, jumping over sun-dials and brick walks and burning gardens –- finally when it reached the house drifting up the side in bright vines as though from the momentum of its run.
On buffet tables, garnished with glistening hors d'oeuvre, spiced baked hams crowded against salads of harlequin designs and pastry pigs and turkeys bewitched to a dark gold.
He took out a pile of shirts and began throwing them one by one before us, shirts of sheer linen and thick silk and fine flannel which lost their folds as they fell and covered the table in many-colored disarray. While we admired, the soft rich heap mounted higher -- shirts with stripes and scrolls and plaids in coral and apple green and lavender and faint orange with monograms of Indian blue. Suddenly with a strained sound Daisy bent her head into the shirts and began to cry stormily.
This is not "conversational" -- though it's fun to imagine a world in which it was. Fitzgerald finds a way to make even static description come to life with energy. A ham doesn't just sit on a table next to a salad -- it "crowds against it," as if it were saying, "Out of my way! I'm a ham!"
As I've mentioned elsewhere on this blog, Fitzgerald worshipped Keats, and not only borrows numerous techniques and phrases from him, but actually copies scenes and makes overt references to him:
1) At one point in the novel, a nightingale sings. There are no nightingales on Long Island, so Carraway speculates one snuck onto a ship coming over from England.
2) Read the scene in which in a flashback Gatsby kisses Daisy for the first time. He hesitates, listening "for the tuning fork that had been struck upon a star." They pause in that pre-kiss moment, the moment that ultimately will lead to his destruction. The tableau is right out out of "Ode on a Grecian Urn."
3) The shirts scene I copied above is taken directly from "The Eve of St. Agnes," Stanza XXX.
And so on.
So why is this good? Because Gatsby is a Romantic. The image he has of himself is practically a parody of Byron. Like the great Romantics, he believes in the power of the human imagination to change reality. He springs "from his Platonic conception of himself." But he lives in a post-Romantic age by about a hundred years. He is destroyed because while he can make himself into his own Platonic conception, he cannot turn Daisy into his Platonic conception of her.
On the other hand, Nick Carraway is a realist. He has "an unaffected scorn" for everything Gatsby represents, he "disapproved of him from beginning to end," and yet he can't help it: he genuinely likes Gatsby. Nick phrases everything as a negative, such as when he says, "Everyone suspects himself of one of the cardinal virtues." His last scene with Jordan Baker is crucial. He says, "I wondered if I wasn't making a mistake" and when he leaves he feels "Angry, and half in love with her, and tremendously sorry." Gatsby never wondered if he was making a mistake, and he would never have been half-in-love with anyone, whatever the hell that means.
Yet the paradox of the book is the Carraway -- though an avowed realist -- writes in a narrative voice that is incredibly lush and Romantic. Scratch a cynic and you'll find a disappointed Romantic, almost every time.
So the book ends with one character destroyed, and the other incapable of fully engaging with life. The choice we get is being a realist, even a cynic, and surviving in a joyless existence, or being a Romantic and being utterly destroyed by our illusions. It has as depressing a theme as any novel I know, and I've read Dostoyevski. But the book is popular because the language is so bleeping beautiful it has never been surpassed. And in that, Fitzgerald also shows himself once more a student of Keats, who in "Ode on Melancholy" advises us what to do when faced with sadness and pain and the desire to forget or even die:
Then glut thy sorrow on a morning rose
Or on the rainbow of the salt sand-wave,
Or on the wealth of globéd peonies;
Or if thy mistress some rich anger shows,
Emprison her soft hand, and let her rave,
And feed deep, deep upon her peerless eyes.
So it's not the most practical advice, but sometimes it's all we have. "All this useless beauty" as Elvis Costello once called it. That's why The Great Gatsby remains popular. I'm teaching Hemingway's The Sun Also Rises -- which Hemingway claimed was "A Greater Gatsby" -- and one of my students told me that he loved the book, but after finishing it he felt compelled to re-read The Great Gatsby. He admired Hemingway, but he missed the beauty of Fitzgerald's prose.
And that's why a great movie will never be made from Fitzgerald's work. Films replace narrative with cinematography, and the narrative is the whole point here, unless we just have Morgan Freeman read all the narration in a voice-over. Not exactly cinematic.
My heart turns when I see my teenage daughters room full of books, piles and piles of books, many of them formerly mine!
TOM DARK: "I am hurt, Terry, hurt, that you would prefer statements from the Guinness Book of records over my fuzzy memory of an old article in the Columbus Dispatch. Hurt."
Tom, take comfort in the fact that a book settling the matter brings the whole digression back on-topic.
I love reading as it allows me to sit around for hours on end, and as a result I end up doing nothing. If we look at it from that perspective, it is the only hobby that I know of that lets me be perfectly productive and unproductive at the same time.
non- sequitur
My last trip to a used bookstore:
William Faulkner: The Sound and the Fury $1, Absalom, Absalom! $1
Ernest Hemingway: In Our Time $2
Orson Scott Card: Seventh Son $2
Philip Roth: The Great American Novel $5 (Hardback)
Knowing that I didn't spend $25 + on the latest bestseller: Priceless!
Since someone asked for it above, I have to provide the great Bill Hicks' story about reading in a Waffle House:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7ruO4dwLC94&feature=player_embedded#
My father amassed an enormous book collection, most of which resided in his mother's basement. Boxes and shelves and boxes. I don't think my mother understood the magnitude of the library she was marrying into, but over the years he gradually moved it into their house. There was concern that the floor was going to cave in from the weight of bookshelves overstuffed with books behind books. Now that us kids are out of their house, we find our old bedrooms have been turned into Book Rooms. With beds.
It's a great family joke, but I suspect the joke's on me. Because I *still* have boxes of books in their garage that I haven't got the room for. The tradition continues. My whole apartment is filled with books. I'm reading a different book in practically every room right now and my co-habitator demands I cut it down to one book at a time. He doesn't understand that the Shock Doctrine goes in the kitchen, The History of God goes in the living room, Down and Dirty Pictures goes in the bathroom, and Perfume goes by the bed. Fortunately although he doesn't read many of them, he appreciates the books as objects to live among and tolerates my need to pick up just a few more. Let's hear it for understanding significant others!
Ebert: "Looks like we got us a reader here!"
My wife and I are both compulsive readers, but she, love her, is a library addict, while I prefer to buy the books I read and keep them afterwards. I don't mind -- in fact, prefer -- used books and find Amazon's marketplace sellers to be a great resource. Like you, Roger, I wind up with volumes of unread volumes.
My wife doesn't understand my preference to keep books. She thinks a library is one of the greatest inventions of mankind -- "I don't have to pay for the book," she says, "and it doesn't clutter up the house after I've read it. What's the point of keeping all those books you have and haven't read and won't read in the future?" It's an ongoing, um, discussion, ad infinitum.
All I can say in my defense is that my books are like trophies, friends and promises. As trophies of things I've read, they represent a small achievement, worthwhile in itself. As friends, they never turn on me and are always there when I need them. As promises, the unread ones are like Hope in Pandora's Box, a stash of goodness waiting for me to get around to it. Oh, and my books, the ones I've read, are transport devices -- all I have to do is scan the spines, peruse the titles, and be transported to the places they took me when I first read them.
I have nothing against libraries. I suspect most avid readers got their craving satisfied in one or more libraries at some point in their lives. I did -- as a penniless child, I checked out the maximum number permitted at one time and returned them for another stack within a week or 10 days. But once I had even a few cents (when paperbacks were less than a dollar), I began buying -- and keeping -- my books, and haven't stopped.
Thanks for a great post from someone I have learned is a kindred soul in many ways.
Ebert: Remind her that spousal references to books as "dust-catchers" are grounds for divorce in some jurisdictions.
tom,
thanks for giving my book a look. truly feel honored that with a world of literature out there, you'd give mine a peek.
david l.,
if you want to read something good by roth, try the plot against america. wonderful and very poignant at this time in history.
richard nanian,
no disagreement that fitzgerald wrote wonderfully descriptive sentences. however, he should have written poetry instead because there's no plot needed.
also - the trailer alone for where the wild things are was so warm it made me cry. going to see the movie tomorrow with my kids. i'm bringing tissues.
Terry McCabe: Tom, take comfort in the fact that a book settling the matter brings the whole digression back on-topic.
Never! I will ransack every used bookstore for miles around for a Slim Whitman biography! There must be one! (I do know that Guinness has stringent requirements for proof of its records, but I know also the tactics record companies use in providing sales figures)
I'm not certain about the exact details of this story, but I recall reading that some time ago, Northwestern University opened a spiffy new library on campus, and all was well until it became obvious that the library was...sinking. As in, into the ground. It eventually became clear that when the architect had designed the foundation of the building, he forgot to take the weight of all the books into account.
I believe the building sank three feet before it stabilized.
@ Richard Nanian -
"And that's why a great movie will never be made from Fitzgerald's work. Films replace narrative with cinematography, and the narrative is the whole point here, unless we just have Morgan Freeman read all the narration in a voice-over. Not exactly cinematic."
Or you could get Mary Harron to direct it; smile.
P.S. Harron's project is a film adaptation of "The Moth Diaries" by Rachel Klein...
"If Picnic at Hanging Rock had been written by Anne Rice, the results might have approximated this tale." Kirkus Reviews; 'The Moth Diaries' delves deeper into the neuroses and psyche of female adolescence than anything I've ever read. It is dark and dangerous, Gothic, brutally revealing, regularly shocking and perfectly controlled." - Guardian
Here's a taste...
"I read the Claudine books over the summer. They were a replacement for school, which I missed so much. I hope the words flow from my pen onto the paper the way they did for Colette; the exact words I need. I've got Claudine at School on my desk for inspiration. She knows what it's like to be shut up in a place like this, where all your emotions are focused on the girls around you, where you dream of a boyfriend but only feel comfortable with your arm around another girl's waist." - The Moth Diaries, page 7
"This is a chillingly atmospheric horror story with real emotional depth. I’ve tried to stay true to Rachel Klein’s novel in the way it re-works and updates the Gothic tradition and the whole notion of girl-on-girl vampires. Lily Cole is a very talented actress and... I’ve long been a fan of Scott Speedman." - Mary Harron
Maybe it's wishful thinking on my part, but I'm hoping Harron is going to make another "Let the Right One In" - for if she could adapt "American Psycho" to the screen, eh?
That's why I think she could do The Great Gatsby.
I like her choices as a director. Note: Scott Speedman appears in Atom Egoyan’s Adoration.
Kevin Lewis: "I'm not certain about the exact details of this story, but I recall reading that some time ago, Northwestern University opened a spiffy new library on campus, and all was well until it became obvious that the library was...sinking. As in, into the ground. It eventually became clear that when the architect had designed the foundation of the building, he forgot to take the weight of all the books into account.
I believe the building sank three feet before it stabilized."
This is another factoid of which I am personally fond. I hope some day that the legend grows to include the information that Slim Whitman was the architect.
I was a grad student at Northwestern a shortly after the new library was built. The ground level doors were all still aligned properly with the ground, so the story was that the sinking was yet imperceptible to the naked eye, but had definitely begun and would in a decade or so become a serious problem. I heard, believed, and enjoyed the story. Thirty years later, I still live in Evanston and can attest with a certain amount of mixed feelings that the library has not sunk noticeably at all. A friend of mine who was an undergrad at NU and then went to grad school at Yale says they tell the same story about the library there.
J. Jahnke has been to Bookman's Used Books in Tucson! My hideout from the heat! Would walk a couple miles to the one at Grant and Campbell across from Joe Bonanno's alleged favorite restaurant, settle into any one of the cozy thrift-shop chairs and read all sorts of things. Even about the Lobster Family -- a family of circus freaks (whom I'd seen as a little boy at the county fair) who ran a crime ring. Science. History. Everything. Used bookstores really do put the new ones to shame (B. Dalton's is now shutting down completely, I've just read.)
Have you ever, you know, like, read a short story and it’s like if laughing could kill you, you’d be like, you know, dead before you got three-quarters of the way through the thing. Well, that was like what just happened to me when I read Margaret Atwood’s short story. It’s called “Rape Fantacies,” but you know that isn’t really exactly what it’s about, it’s more like about how, you know, girls talk with each other when there aren’t any guys around. The girl who tells the story is real chatty in an interesting sort of way and she’s got this really great curiousity and all, and the way she tells the story is like, you know, a mile a minute and it just sort of makes you want to laugh out loud. You know, like laugh out loud until tears start streaming down your face like crazy and you just can’t stop, so you have to finish the darn thing after the tears dry up enough for you to start reading again. But then after you’ve read a few more sentences it’s like, oh my god. And so you start laughing again and the whole process repeats itself, and it’s as if you really begin to realize that it’s going to take you a whole lot longer to read the story 'cause your doing so much laughing and all?
And then it’s like when you put the story down,you say to yourself, “Hey, I’ve got to tell my blog buddies about this story ‘cause I know they’re going to, you know, really really like it too, and all.
Have you ever done that?
"chatty in an interesting sort of way..."
now that's funny.
It looks simpler (just type in the ISBNs) to sell through abebooks.com. (Disclaimer: I abandon my unwanted books on the sale shelves at my library.)
Ebert: Seems like they want you to sell to them, not through them. Alibris software requires Windows. I'm using Amazon, which predictably has a friendlier interface.N
Northwestern University opened a spiffy new library on campus, and all was well until it became obvious that the library was...sinking. As in, into the ground. It eventually became clear that when the architect had designed the foundation of the building, he forgot to take the weight of all the books into account. I believe the building sank three feet before it stabilized.
I know (having done some research there), that almost the same thing happened a couple of decades ago at U-Mass in Amherst. When I was there, several floors of the library had been completely emptied and shut down, and a librarian told me that it was for that reason. I don't know how they solved the problem, and I haven't been back since.
@ Marie Haws
Hmm. Perhaps it's unfair to say a great film cannot be made from The Great Gatsby or Moby-Dick or any great work of narrative literature, which means by definition any work in which the style of the writing is what makes it great. After all, Coppola made Apocalypse Now out of Heart of Darkness.
But if the film is great, it will be great for different reasons. And inevitably, that means people who love the book as a book will be disappointed by the transformation. Coppola's shifting of Conrad's nightmare to Viet Nam actually helps because it distances us enough from the text to lessen the sense of loss. It's no doubt easier to make a great film out of a mediocre book, one with a compelling story, interesting themes, characters who can be embodied on screen without losing too much of their internal selves (because, presumably, the book does not dwell on their internal selves), and a forgettable style. If, when one thinks of a book, one remembers primarily one's own imagination of a scene rather than a particularly lyrical or striking sentence or passage, it's probably a good candidate for a film.
And I'm ignoring the whole question of making the story relevant to today's audiences because I think any intelligent viewer or reader can make those kinds of connections without having them spelled out. I went to see Stacey Keach play King Lear last summer, and the director had set the play in, in effect, Yugoslavia, with Lear a Tito who had split his kingdom while alive instead of having it fall apart after his death. It worked fine; he didn't mess with the dialogue, after all -- though he foolishly tinkered with the ending -- and Keach was terrific, but it wasn't necessary.
A colleague once said to me, "You teach a lot of canonical works. How do you make them relevant to your students' lives?"
Well, I said, first, they are relevant; that's why they've lasted. Conversely, students don't want to be condescended to, or told that a specific work speaks for them or to their experience specifically. And finally, our students are 18, 19, 20 for the most part. They've spent much of the past six years or so navel-gazing, because that's what adolescents do. Understandably. But believe it or not, they are often thrilled to find out it's not all about them.
True story: my favorite final exam question ever is one given to a professor of mine. The entire final exam of a graduate-level course was one question: Of all the works we read this semester, which did you like least? And to what flaw in your own character do you ascribe this dislike?
I love that question. I've used it (near enough) on my own exams, though never as the entire exam.
Terry! Just because Slim Whitman looked a lot like a weasel doesn't mean he'd be spreading rumors about a sinking library.
Yeah, Can, the stories that had me in helpless laughter were both out of Mark Twain's ROUGHING IT. The one where the party thought it was lost and doomed to die in the blizzard, and the one about the peddler who gave a pennywhistle to one of Brigham Young's little boys. Accidentally burning down the woods around Lake Tahoe a close third.
I found that volume forgotten in someone's closet. Still have it.
I have discovered a new way to feed my addiction... I review books. People send them to me - bliss! Well, mostly. Oddly enough, there are some books that ought not to have been published. Hard to imagine, but I could prove it if needed.
I have taken two steps to rein in the creeping piles:
1) Donation - either to the public library, or to groups like Operation Paperback, which sends books to military service personnel. There are an alarming number of restrictions on what can be sent, but it still feels good doing it.
2) Electronic books - I do end up with paper copies of my favorites, but start by acquiring books for my Kindle when I can. I travel a lot, so being able to carry hundreds of books with me is much appreciated (how can you possibly know what you want to read 3 days from now? I like a wide selection.) I don't own fewer books now, all in all, but they take up less space.
Marie HAWS: Another trick is to just read the last few pages of a book you 'dare not read' to see how it ends. Then, relax and read it from beginning to end! I have done this a few times, and it actually made the books more enjoyable!
Tom DARK: Yes, my brother. Always did get chills when coyotes howled in Phoenix - knew it was you! ;.)
Dear EBERT: Thanks for just being in my world, and sharing your world with all of us. Take care. Cassandra
@ CanInDeed -
"Have you ever, you know, like, read a short story and it’s like if laughing could kill you, you’d be like, you know, dead before you got three-quarters of the way through the thing. Well, that was like what just happened to me when I read Margaret Atwood’s short story... And then it’s like when you put the story down, you say to yourself, “Hey, I’ve got to tell my blog buddies about this story ‘cause I know they’re going to, you know, really really like it too, and all. Have you ever done that?"
Oh my God - Margaret Atwood.
I throw myself at the mercy of my fellow Canadian countrymen and beg their forgiveness in advance should they read this, but I cannot tell a lie: I don't like Atwood.
I find her work cold and depressing, at least what I've read of it. And while I can't argue against the quality of her prose (she can indeed write) it's a moot point if you don't enjoy reading it, eh?
Basically, I find her too oppressive for my tastes. It's all so LITERARY in a really heavy way. And I know it's me - it's because of how I am, more so than anything she's doing at her end.
Words can be a pleasure to read. A clever turn of phrase a thing to behold and God knows I've applauded Roger more than once for it - to the point where I've quoted him back to himself; chuckle!
"...with a feeling approaching dread..."
Smile.
And you know how some people paint words around doors and along the ceiling in a room where crown-molding normally rests? I've got friends who've done just that (they own their homes) or others renting have written things like "Mirror, mirror, on the wall.." literally onto their bathroom mirrors! And so I get it - the love of words. And I love them too. If I could, every wall in my apartment would be painted with all manner of things, including text. And I would have "...with a feeling approaching dread..." scrawled somewhere, as that's how much I like it's Edward Gorey-ness.
All of which is to say, to the extent Atwood is liked, I can't and don't fault those who like her stuff - as I know why I don't.
She's too dystopic for me. Too bleak cyberpunk (if you know what I mean?) The world is rapidly going down the toilet and mostly thanks to men, religion and misguided Feminists but have no fear, I'm here, Margaret Atwood, to entertain you with my cautionary literary-minded tales while earning a comfortable living doing it.
SIGH. Oh f*ck-off already, Radcliffe.
See? Obviously, I've got issues. :)
It's just that life is hard enough, eh? And if you're not the problem or devoid of empathy for those worse off than yourself, the works of Atwood can strike one as rather sententious and didactic, albeit in a covert sort of way.
I think there are two ways to bring about social change:
1. You can take a positive, encouraging, inclusive "everyone's invited to the party" approach, and reach out to people, employing kindness and humour along the way to lure them (smile) into doing the right thing - and once they have, and see that things work better that way, unless they're insane, the lesson should stick. Do unto others. Embrace the Golden rule, share the planet, be nice to animals, don't pollute, etc.
2. Or you can use fear and negativity. You can underscore all the terrible things that are going to happen if you DON'T stop what you're doing right now, and do this other thing instead, etc. Or simply point out the pointlessness of a thing and leave it at that, for believing good can rise without help from despair.
And speaking for myself, I personally respond better to positive encouragement coupled with a cautionary tale.
Show me the problem - but then show me a solution, too. At least suggest one, if you don't have the answer. Tell me a scary story, but don't end it on a bummer note. I've seen Hardy's "Jude" with Christopher Eccleston and Kate Winslett and I have PAID MY DUES when it comes to major downers.
"Many of his books were about ordinary working-class people whose best efforts were not enough to escape the trap set for them by society. They labored, they dreamed, and the establishment slapped them down like troublesome flies." - Roger, "Jude" 1996 review: 3 stars.
I can't think of that film without experiencing a sense of despair so wretched, it's all I can do to free myself from it in time before being engulfed by emotion; such is the overwhelming and oppressive weight of it.
I hated that film. If I could, I'd reach into my mind and pull out those strands and set them alight so as to free the memory of it as dust on the wind.
And that's how I feel about Atwood, too. I don't need the trauma.
Note: there's a reason Cancerian crabs have shells and not just pinchers. :)
P.S. I'm like, only sharing that CaninDeed, 'cause it was like, so totally intense thinking about Atwood and stuff, ya know? :)
Chuckle! Now I'm off to watch my download of Sky1's Skellig!
"Skellig is a children's book by British novelist David Almond, for which he was awarded the Carnegie Medal in 1998 and the Whitbread Children's Book of the Year Award. In 2007 it was selected by judges of the CILIP Carnegie Medal for children's literature as one of the ten most important children's novels of the past 70 years."
Go here dudes and click on trailer! It's about a little boy who discovers something unexpected and with wings... smile...
http://www.sky1.co.uk/skellig/videos.php
Or, you could read some Atwood and bum-yourselves out. :)
Marie, have you read Atwoods "Blind Assassin?" It's an amazing read, but I've been unable to check out her other books, much less re-read Handmaid's Tale, because everything else is too dour and slow-moving in comparison.
@ Paul Arrand Rodgers -
"Marie, have you read Atwoods "Blind Assassin?" It's an amazing read, but I've been unable to check out her other books, much less re-read Handmaid's Tale, because everything else is too dour and slow-moving in comparison."
Nope!
"The Handmaid's Tale" was the first Atwood novel I ever read. And although I didn't like it, I was willing to give her another go. So I read "Cat's Eye" and found it kinda boring. Unwilling to concede defeat however, I tried one last time with "Oryx and Crake."
BANG! (sound of illegal firearm going off next to my head.)
Chuckle; I'm fine now, but word to the wise: there's a reason Lady MacBeth freaked out - it doesn't actually wash off as easily as you'd think. :)
Meanwhile... I've seen "Skellig".
What a GREAT adaptation of the children's book! Skellig was played by Tim Roth, who was wonderfully dark and revolting.
"I found him in the garage on a Sunday afternoon. He was lying there in the darkness behind the tea chests, in the dust and dirt. It was as if he'd been there forever. He was filthy and pale and dried out and I thought he was dead. I couldn't have been more wrong. I'd soon begin to see the truth about him, that there'd never been another creature like him in the world." - from Skellig by David Almond
It's a British TV film - not a theatrical release, but maybe one day it'll make it across the pond? It's been released as a region 2 DVD at any rate. And speaking of the British... BBC Emma 2009 has arrived on my HD!
Woo-hoo! Austen fix! (Best heroin ever.)
Note: PBS Masterpiece Classic is gonna show it in a few months - so you'll all get to see it, as it's on their list. But I'm curious to see it now. It's got Michael Gambon in it!
Off to shoot-up.... :)
Ebert: Doesn't this great poetry reader sound to you like Michael Gambon?
http://www.youtube.com/user/SpokenVerse
Speaking of children's literature, here is his very latest verse, posted only hours ago:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHCxmhLJ3DM
Ebert: Every incident since the big bang has been a coincidence. About the bang itself, I can't be sure.
God is believed to have always existed--without beginning or end.
Joseph Campbel explained a myth where Vishnu, I believe it was, opens his eyes and the universe is formed, and then he closes his eyes and it is destroyed in an endless cycle.
Some scientists believe that the universe expands and then it contracts in the same manner that Vishnu creates and detroys. It expands then colapses has a big bang experience and repeats this process infinitely. Anyone think there is an merit to this idea?
Ebert: Does the universe do it by itself, or does it need Vishnu?
@Marie Haws on October 17, 2009 9:59 PM
The only thing I've read of Margaret Atwood's was "Rape Fantasies." Maybe it was the mood I was in at the time, but I saw the character as speaking a mile a minute, very curious about everything, espescially her co-workers private business. And so clever at taking a hilareous angle on a sullen subject. It was one of the funniest short stories I've ever read. At least that's how it struck me at the time.
If you read it, let me know what you think.
@Everyone, there are hundreds of free downloadable great books at Manybooks.com . It's a real treasure trove. I hardly have any disk space left. I prefer holding a book when I read it, but the books are in MS Word format so if you want to look up a quote, it's a snap. Also great for when you don't feel like making a trip to the library.
Ebert: London and Stevenson both suffer from the impression that they wrote children's books.
I remember Henry James as saying "Stevenson is the only English author who can write a decent English sentence."
I have some unfortunate news. After a series of exchanges with Jim Emerson, I'm sad to say that CanInDeed took "the easy way out." He is no longer "The Optimist" he once was. And he is no longer a Liberal. He will apparently live the remainder of his days in an irreversible semi-vegitative state, while watching the TV and listening the radio, gleefully believing everything they tell him, with no regard to the opinions or views expressed.
Donald Miller
Ebert: Does the universe do it by itself, or does it need Vishnu?
Are they mutually exclusive ideas or does each require the other? Ah, the wonderful notion of the paradox. Zeno's paradoxes are interesting. It took a couple of thousand years for the Calculus to be discovered and settle them with the concepts of infinitesimaly small and instantaneous.
Maybe this is a little too organized for some people's taste, but it's amazing nonetheless. I want one:
http://www.apartmenttherapy.com/ny/at-europe/at-europe-london-closeup-the-amazing-staircase-042543
Ebert: I'm hiring that architect.
Once my family moved country. They sold our very large house to a developer who planned to build 4 extra houses on the land around, and rip out the interior of the Georgian house and rebuild it 'modern.' We left behind two and a half thousand books since the developer said he'd deal with it. I still feel terribly sick about that still
"The Rolling English Road" by G K Chesterton (poem reading!)
http://www.youtube.com/user/SpokenVerse#p/u/80/F2KkwQXa16Q
That, was a very dangerous site to show me, Roger. I was there for a full hour just listening to stuff! And he does sound like Michael Gambon!
It's the timbre; the weight of it, eh?
Ebert: Why do I like this one so much?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iHCxmhLJ3DM
OMG! That's brilliant! And the IRONY! Jim Morrison didn't like doing what he was told, either.
I love this poem! I'm gonna memorize it and then, when no one is suspecting - suddenly pounce at recite it. :)
"Disobedience" - by A.A. Milne
James James
Morrison Morrison
Weatherby George Dupree
Took great
Care of his Mother,
Though he was only three.
James James Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he;
"You must never go down
to the end of the town,
if you don't go down with me."
James James
Morrison's Mother
Put on a golden gown.
James James Morrison's Mother
Drove to the end of the town.
James James Morrison's Mother
Said to herself, said she:
"I can get right down
to the end of the town
and be back in time for tea."
King John
Put up a notice,
"LOST or STOLEN or STRAYED!
JAMES JAMES MORRISON'S MOTHER
SEEMS TO HAVE BEEN MISLAID.
LAST SEEN
WANDERING VAGUELY:
QUITE OF HER OWN ACCORD,
SHE TRIED TO GET DOWN
TO THE END OF THE TOWN -
FORTY SHILLINGS REWARD!"
James James
Morrison Morrison
(Commonly known as Jim)
Told his
Other relations
Not to go blaming him.
James James
Said to his Mother,
"Mother," he said, said he:
"You must never go down to the end of the town
without consulting me."
James James
Morrison's mother
Hasn't been heard of since.
King John said he was sorry,
So did the Queen and Prince.
King John
(Somebody told me)
Said to a man he knew:
If people go down to the end of the town, well,
what can anyone do?"
(Now then, very softly)
J.J.
M.M.
W.G.Du P.
Took great
C/O his M*****
Though he was only 3.
J.J. said to his M*****
"M*****," he said, said he:
"You-must-never-go-down-to-the-end-of-the-town-
if-you-don't-go-down-with-ME!"
Oooooo! Smile. I've got one for you now!
"Jim, who Ran Away and was Eaten by a Lion" by Hilaire Belloc
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OBRPUg6EesA
There was a Boy whose name was Jim;
His Friends were very good to him.
They gave him Tea, and Cakes, and Jam,
And slices of delicious Ham,
And Chocolate with pink inside
And little Tricycles to ride,
And read him Stories through and through,
And even took him to the Zoo—
But there it was the dreadful Fate
Befell him, which I now relate.
You know—or at least you ought to know,
For I have often told you so—
That Children never are allowed
To leave their Nurses in a Crowd;
Now this was Jim's especial Foible,
He ran away when he was able,
And on this inauspicious day
He slipped his hand and ran away!
He hadn't gone a yard when—Bang!
With open Jaws, a lion sprang,
And hungrily began to eat
The Boy: beginning at his feet.
Now, just imagine how it feels
When first your toes and then your heels,
And then by gradual degrees,
Your shins and ankles, calves and knees,
Are slowly eaten, bit by bit.
No wonder Jim detested it!
No wonder that he shouted ``Hi!''
The Honest Keeper heard his cry,
Though very fat he almost ran
To help the little gentleman.
``Ponto!'' he ordered as he came
(For Ponto was the Lion's name),
``Ponto!'' he cried, with angry Frown,
``Let go, Sir! Down, Sir! Put it down!''
The Lion made a sudden stop,
He let the Dainty Morsel drop,
And slunk reluctant to his Cage,
Snarling with Disappointed Rage.
But when he bent him over Jim,
The Honest Keeper's Eyes were dim.
The Lion having reached his Head,
The Miserable Boy was dead!
When Nurse informed his Parents, they
Were more Concerned than I can say:—
His Mother, as She dried her eyes,
Said, ``Well—it gives me no surprise,
He would not do as he was told!''
His Father, who was self-controlled,
Bade all the children round attend
To James's miserable end,
And always keep a-hold of Nurse
For fear of finding something worse.
See? Now this is why I love the English. They don't mess about. :)
Ebert: I knew a woman who could recite that with great elan.
Wonderful article. I agree with this so much, especially not throwing away books. I still have all my old textbooks from school. I've also participated in rescuing boxes of books from a bonfire.
I love how books seem to lead you from one thing to the next. The first time I read "Fahrenheit 451" was in my early 20's (shame on me). The day I finished was 4th of July, and I attended a friend of a friend of a friend's bonfire. Many young drunks were running amok, and as the fire kept dwindling, they kept scouring for more to burn. It inevitably ended up leading to a storage shed, where the place was filled with boxes of books that belonged to the homeowner's dead aunt.
People started grabbing boxes of books and hauling them to the fire, but I stood by and grabbed boxes, each time hauling them to my car instead. One of the best books I've ever read, "The Warfare State" was contained inside. The contents of the boxes spelled out an interesting life portrait of the woman I had never met, including old textbooks from her time in high school, complete with doodles and notes from friends.
Scrawled in the front of the book were these words, which must have seemed so normal at the time, but looking back, seem sad and ironic considering what was to happen in December of that year:
"James Konarska! Class of '41! Life is just beginning!"
It gives me great joy to know that such memories were saved from the hands of drunken fools, and the books themselves create a whole new story to enjoy.
"To add a library to a house is to give that house a soul."
@ Adam -
"It gives me great joy to know that such memories were saved from the hands of drunken fools, and the books themselves create a whole new story to enjoy."
A shudder ran through me as I read your post and for so vividly seeing that bonfire of books, and imagining the louts who could burn them. The only thing saving me from melancholy by way of empathy and for the rest of my day, knowing how many you rescued and gave a second life to.
The Most Interesting Bookstore of the World...
http://www.miragebookmark.ch/most-interesting-bookstores.htm
It includes the bookstore El Ateneo in Buenos Aires - which was a real theatre and then a movie theatre before turning into a bookstore! :)
TOM DARK, Dear Brother. So moved by your sentence, and my apparent inspiration for it, 'a wisp of snow puffed down the chimney and onto the hearth' that I copied it out. Only to discover later that I had written 'onto the HEART.' Oh, my. Even more poignant! Think of me fondly. Take care. Cassandra
Sorry, I didn't include these two things in my first comment
(1) I'm not sure about American availability but if you get a chance to read the short story 'The Uncommon Reader' about the Queen suddenly developing an interest in literature and the havoc it creates, then do give it a shot. A gentle and funny five minutes. It's by Alan Bennett.
(2) It is so lovely to read all the comments from the other voracious readers out there. It made me feel genuinely happy that there are indeed people in the world who quote Michael Montaigne and Cicero
Ebert: You can preview the first 14 pages here:
http://j.mp/3XWM9J
I also love his The Lady in the Van.
Ebert: Every incident since the big bang has been a coincidence. About the bang itself, I can't be sure
Ebert: Does the universe do it by itself, or does it need Vishnu?
I had this friend many years ago where we could talk about a single subject for hours until we had nothing left to say. Those were the days.
The theoritcal ideas behind events are fascinating to me. The idea of compositional changes in chemistry, the infinitely small in calculus. Seemingly incomprehensible concepts like how many cycles can occure in a second. A pulse train can actually repeat a million times a second, then we discover that it can do it a billion times. If you have enough 9s behind a period there is a point where it doesn't approach one, it is the number one. And so on.
On the subject of a prime mover. Talk about not taking any responsibility for your actions! As Roger said, when you have a dog, you scratch him behind the ears and say, "Whose a good dog?" In the wild, he's left to scratch the many flees behind his own ears. I can't begin to imagine a less well-conceived, badly dsigned world. God got it wrong from the very beginning. Certainly it's likely that he caused the Big Bang, but by not realizing that he would be killed by the ensuing explosion he was truly being idiotic. Or maybe I'm wrong?
@Marie Haws
Not trying to flatter, just telling it like I see it. One of the cleverest observations I ever read was in Roger's review of "The Doors." :Even in death, Jim Morrison isn't much fun to be around.
Absolutely brilliant. That's the way Oliver Stone portrayed him, I don't know for sure. He certainly was a scary guy.
I'm like many people who are fascinated by Morrison because of his willingness to embrace the dark side of his nature--possibly the only side of his nature--unflinchingly and with apparently no regard given for what other people thought. Certainly not afraid to die. Brilliant, haunting, lyrics that in and of themselves weren't necessarily great, but he sang them with such conviction! And the best voice in all of rock 'n' roll. He lived his short life under his own terms, died young, and left the rest of us spellbound.
"The Crystal Ship" is my favorite song.
Cassandra: TOM DARK, Dear Brother. So moved by your sentence, and my apparent inspiration for it, 'a wisp of snow puffed down the chimney and onto the hearth' that I copied it out. Only to discover later that I had written 'onto the HEART.' Oh, my. Even more poignant! Think of me fondly.
---This was serendipitous of the hidden truth, dear long-lost sister. Of course I can think of you no other way. We never could resemble these hapless protagonists, Jerry and Sherry. Not us! who were cruelly separated at birth, never quite grasping this unnamed sense of loss, a chronic feeling that we'd each left the oven on; yet perhaps for you, a mysterious comfort in the eerie howling of nearby coyotes, among whom I did my best to join in the chorus -- they quizzical at my tin-eared efforts, I at their lack of opposable thumbs.
For these fictional characters, Jerry and Sherry, knew pain only for the first time at their last moment: unlike us, who have lived long hard lives apart, minds heated red and hammered by harsh vicissitudes into inscrutable pragmatic visages, ever shielding tender hearts, each somehow having a vacant room all this time, and ever a snowdrop upon each doorway.
Nay! For Jerry and Sherry (for which names I had run the gamut of names ending in "-rry" at no small intellectual suffering), I have decided, had voted the straight Republican ticket. No studying had they done. No research. No reading things before they voted for them. None of this. Mere overconfident yet gullible straw-people were they, upon which to vent my wrath at the muddy headwaters of all Wrongdoing in America.
Just as soon as I think of how to begin the damned thing. XOXOX
Reference to October 21, 2009 10:19 PM
Note to self: Avoid comma splices.
Avoid sentences that appear to negate their intended purpose or have unecessary redundance. "Brilliant, haunting, lyrics that in and of themselves weren't necessarily great, but he sang them with such conviction!" If they weren't great then they weren't brilliant. "He lived his short life under his own terms, died young,. . ." If his life was short, he would have died young. A rewrite is called for.
I don't have outside TV--cable or antenae. I don't miss commercials, but I do miss some commercials. One of my favorites was the one with Mr Scorcese calling his nephew and telling him that the photos he had taken of the boy's birthday were unacceptable and that a reshoot was necessary. It also diplayed a man who would have made a fine actor, if he had decided to go in that direction.
If anyone knows where a commercial repository is on the internet, please inform me of it.
@ Donald Miller -
"God got it wrong from the very beginning. Certainly it's likely that he caused the Big Bang, but by not realizing that he would be killed by the ensuing explosion he was truly being idiotic. Or maybe I'm wrong?"
Well, it would explain why so many religions tend to think of God in terms of being "a man." :)
"One of the cleverest observations I ever read was in Roger's review of "The Doors." :Even in death, Jim Morrison isn't much fun to be around.
Absolutely brilliant. That's the way Oliver Stone portrayed him, I don't know for sure. He certainly was a scary guy.
I'm like many people who are fascinated by Morrison because of his willingness to embrace the dark side of his nature--possibly the only side of his nature--unflinchingly and with apparently no regard given for what other people thought. Certainly not afraid to die. Brilliant, haunting, lyrics that in and of themselves weren't necessarily great, but he sang them with such conviction! And the best voice in all of rock 'n' roll. He lived his short life under his own terms, died young, and left the rest of us spellbound." - Donald Miller
Oliver Stone caught the surface of Morrison but little else. No real insights into his pathology or what actually made him tick; instead, it was akin to "mad, bad and dangerous to know" ala Byron. Being a rock star didn't suit Jim Morrison - he was an actual poet. And extremely well read. He wanted to be known and respected for his writing - not the whole sex image thingy.
I still remember reading 'No One Here Gets Out Alive' by Jerry Hopkins and thinking to myself at the time "mostly crap, but I'll finish it anyway."
Linda Eastman (Linda McCartney) was a photographer back in the day and shot numerous well-known names and famous, including Jim Morrison.
Note: her photographs have been exhibited in more than 50 galleries internationally, including the Victoria and Albert Museum in London. A collection from that time, Linda McCartney's Sixties: Portrait of an Era, was published in 1993 (well worth looking at, by the way!)
Anyhoo, she had this to say about Jim (I'd seen a written transcript of it years ago) and always thought it was an interesting insight into his character, and some of what was likely driving him...
http://www.casttv.com/video/ngrpo2/linda-mccartney-talks-about-jim-morrison-video
He wanted to be loved for himself, not what others were projecting onto him.
FYI: Morrison's early life was a nomadic existence typical of military families. Morrison's brother Andy was recorded as saying that his parents had determined never to use corporal punishment on their children. They instead instilled discipline and levied punishment by the military tradition known as "dressing down". This consisted of yelling at and berating the children until they were reduced to tears and acknowledged their failings. - wiki
Fat a child, constantly uprooted, bullied by your parents, poetic sensibilities assaulted, you end up on stage fronting a band and you get a measure of fame and suddenly NOW people give a crap about you. But it's not really you - it's an image.
So yeah - where's that Whiskey bar, eh? Get stoned, get drunk, 'cause who gives a sweet "F" - not you. Not about the fame, at any rate. So you don't care how it looks on stage or in the Press, and for not thinking it matters or it's even really about you.
No one bothers to write THAT about Jim Morrison though, eh? I guess it's not sexy enough. Or too honest in a way that takes some of the "cool factor" away from how dark that place was for him, at times. Much better to celebrate Jim as this glorious f*ck-up whose girl friend fell asleep, leaving him to die in Paris bathtub where later Alain Ronay - and his friend Agnès Varda, would find him in the wake of a panicked phone call.
Here's his recount of it:
Jim and I - Friends Until Death: Alain Ronay's account of Jim's passing
by Alain Ronay
http://archives.waiting-forthe-sun.net/Pages/Articles/jims_last_days.html
None of which is to belittle your admiration for him - I loved the Doors too! It's just that I can see all this other stuff, too.
Beneath the celebrated veneer lies a better story for it's the death of an actual poet. Not just a rock star. And I wish they'd tell that story.
Ebert: Wondering if my original review might have been mistaken, I took another look at "The Doors." It still didn't work for me. Great sound track, however.
Yeah, I remember when Jim Morrison announced he'd retire and move to Paris, the papers quoted him as saying "I've created a monster," re: his stage persona.
My hi-school band introduced the Doors to our hi-school, before they showed up on the radio. Our bassist had very hip sisters in college so we got the album before anybody else did. We learned all the parts of their big long jam for "Light my Fire" note for note.
20 years and a bunch of music later -- on the way wound up meeting Robby Kreiger, trying to start a fusion band (didn't work out) -- I returned to my old stomping ground to listen to my old bandmate Larry in a little bar, still playing "Light My Fire" note for note. Ah, me. A little conversation and last I heard, Larry's a draughtsman.
I never could get into Morrison's poetry, Marie. It seemed to be all about penises and vomit and such. So I've still got THE ODYSSEY bookmarked where I left off in December '07.
Funny thing, Roger, I too recently gave Stone's Doors movie another chance and couldn't finish it this time either. Really good imitation, but as with Morrison and Elvis imitators, nothing like the real thing. Saw them live in '70 or so, upstate NY.
Ebert wrote: Wondering if my original review might have been mistaken, I took another look at "The Doors." It still didn't work for me. Great sound track, however.
No, I think you called it right. Although to agree with you about Stone's movie is self-serving of me, I know. :)
It's just that I so rarely encounter anyone who knows about that Linda Eastman interview and what she had to say, or who've read Alain Ronay's account of Jim's last days in Paris. Almost everything that gets said about him is a surface observation and a highly romanticized one at that, so as to preserve the cool factor.
I think the real Jim Morrison can be found in the lasting memories of those who knew him. And that of their number, specifically those perceptive enough to see past the veneer of his behavior, who hold the keys to a great untold story.
Memories of Morrison by Jack Holman:
"When all of the Rashomon aspects of the Doors are dissected ad nauseum, one powerful memory lingers and it is more in my heart than in my mind. On February 15, 1968, the doorbell rang in my Los Angeles home. It was the evening of my son Adam's tenth birthday. There was Jim, now a star, shifting uncertainly from foot to foot, clutching an erratically wrapped present for my musically inclined son. He came in, sat quietly with Adam, and showed him how to play the kalimba, an African thumb piano. They sat there for an hour, fully absorbed - two children in their own world." - Jac Holzman. http://archives.waiting-forthe-sun.net/Pages/Articles/memories_morrison.html
Remembering The Lizard King: Classmates Talk About The Jim Morrison They Knew
"Stan Durkee is among those who remember Morrison for his intelligence, his literary brilliance and his enigmatic personality. "Intellectually, Jim was head and shoulders above all the rest of us - he read every book you could imagine," he said. "He inspired me." Durkee said he and Morrison used to go to book stores in Washington to look for works of beat generation authors who intrigued him. Durkee remembers being in an English class with Morrison while studying James Joyce's Ulysses. "Even the teacher was learning from Morrison's interpretation of the work." Durkee said, "We all were ... He was sort of an intellectual leader." However, Durkee said, "Nobody really understood Morrison (as a person). He was detached, creative ... Few, if any, people in our class were really close to him."
Durkee, who gave Morrison a ride to school every morning, said Morrison was alienated from his family as well, "He went for weeks without seeing his parents," he said. Although Durkee saw Morrison as someone, "who would have become a dramatic person", he said "it was a shock to everybody that he evolved into 'a teen idol.'" - Sandy Barnes, Alexandria Gazette. http://archives.waiting-forthe-sun.net/Pages/Articles/lizard_king_remembered.html
You know who I think could tell Jim Morrison's story without screwing it up?
Mary Harron; smile.
But then, I think women tell uncomfortable truths, better. Pride tends to get a man's way when it comes to such things.
took Ambien, can't write or finish this till tomorow. But I do not admire Jim Morrison. I'm fascinated by him.
Yeah, Olver Stone is the worst historian! Just look at the easily available clip of The Doors on the Ed Sullivan Show and compare it to the movie. The movie is complete BS. I have always maintained that it's just as easy, or difficult, to make a great movie based on the facts than on conjured uip BS. Now before I slip into unconsciousness, I'd like to have "one last chance at bliss." Yeah, baby, the chrystal ship and love street. Grea!!! Songs.
Illusion, Jim Morrison, the Death of God, and Other Misunderstandings
@Marie and everyone
God got it wrong from the very beginning. Certainly, it's likely that he caused the Big Bang, but by not realizing that he would be killed by the ensuing explosion he was truly being idiotic.
I was beginning to give up all hope that there was anybody out there. I figured that if that line didn’t entice a response, nothing would. Nice to know that it did, for I had already picked up my hat and was heading for the door. Roger was probably tired of being held at gunpoint long before then anyway.
There’s this whole he/she, or she/he, or s/he, going on that harms the rhythm, looks unsightly, etc, that I don’t like and try to avoid. Also to avoid the damned if you do damned if you don’t pitfalls of the gender issue—“What do you mean, ‘she’ got it wrong and ‘she’ was being truly idiotic?” My answer to the problem is the simple notion that if the words are spoken by a man, then the subject and audience is addressed in the masculine, and vice versa.
I disagree with the idea that Jim didn’t care because of his upbringing, a lot of us had rough childhoods. Certainly, Jim’s had a lot to do with his toughness and self-reliance, beyond that I don’t know. I don’t admire him as a person. If I knew him, I’m certain I would feel much the same as Ishmael did trying to get some sleep lying beside Queequeg, when those two were sharing the same bed in that boarding house, early on in Moby Dick. Moreover, I haven’t come across any evidence that there was more than the one side to Morrison.
What intrigues and fascinates me about him is how he parlayed his psychosis into an historical, and mythical figure to be remembered; whether he intended it precisely that way or not is anyone’s guess.
you end up on stage fronting a band and you get a measure of fame and suddenly NOW people give a crap about you. But it's not really you - it's an image.
Nevertheless, it’s an image for which he was entirely responsible. Furthermore, I have an established record on this site of making comments stating that we unknowns who make an effort to create decently good work merit the same attention as the “famous”. I became a fan of someone on this site, and to put it mildly, he, well, I won’t go into the ugly details. But that point, I think, displays my contention that fame can be avoided just as easily as failure. It’s like my Grandmother always told me, “Never try and you will never fail.” Sadly, I never heeded her advice, possibly because she also said stuff like, “Listen you little brat, don’t go blowing smoke up my ass and tell me I’m on fire.”
Jim tried and he succeeded, and against all odds. He was an intellectual, poetic, and, philosophic existentialist. And the medium of music he and the other Doors used to explore that morphed nearly everything done by them musically into a strange gestalt that was mesmerizing, brilliant, dark and dangerous, and occasionally truly disturbing.
Stone’s talents as a film crafter are displayed in his film, but so also are his shortfalls. When he could have made a movie that explored the psychopathy of a dark genius and the complex relationships such a sociopathic personality had with his team members, he made a movie that was ultimately more self-indulgent than revealatory of its subject matter. That’s the tragedy of the film. If I wrote a review right now, I’d probably end it with something like, “Even in death, Jim Morrison is misunderstood, and because of the nature of death, unable to fight back—even if he cared enough to do so.”
Morrison was an easy target. At the Whiskey-a-Go-Go, when the other members of The Doors realized Jim might not show, they had to go and get him from his apartment, where they found him tripping on LSD. Back at the Go-Go, when the Doors began “The End,” a song that they had been developing for a while, Jim suddenly inserted the ediple part. “The killer awoke before dawn, he put his boots on! He took a face from the ancient gallery, and he walked on down the hall. . . father, . . . I want to kill you. “ [Manzarek was concerned: to himself, he said don’t say it Jim, don’t say it. Jim wasn’t concerned.] “Mother, I want to fuck you!” Of course, the guy who owned the place had never heard such obscenity on the Sunset strip like that before. He flipped out. When The Doors were off stage, the outraged owner told Jim, “How can you say that about your own mother?” To the band he said, “You’re fired!” Robby Krieger, probably due to ethical considerations more than anything else—they were already slatted to record their first album the next week—asked, “What about the weekend?” The owner looked perplexed for a moment and said, Yeah, I forgot about that. You play this weekend, and then you’re fired.”
Now why anyone would elect to fabricate tepid details about such a scene that obviously has so many implications to it in so many ways and for so many reasons is beyond me. Reality can be better than fiction and Oliver Stone’s movie proves that, if nothing else.
Also, Jim didn’t just say that about his mother, he said it to his mother, as described in Danny’s book. She came to see Jim perform and after he said the song’s line, he turned and faced her and repeated it directly at her, “Fuck you!” Of course, she left in tears. No way I can think of to make a happy movie about such a person, but he does reveal a great deal about the innermost workings of the forbidden that the rest of us keep hidden behind the Doors of our own perceptions. By shooting the messenger, we are also shooting a part of ourselves, a part that cannot be denied, only locked away from sight of others.
What say you?
“Stone’s talents as a film crafter are displayed in his film, but so also are his [short-comings].”
I’ve had second thoughts about that statement. I’ve heard it said that we have a database in our mind of over a million facial images and a hundred thousand or so voices. These along with memories of movies, books, stories, and so forth. (And yet I can’t remember all those calculus and physics formulas—geeer).
Anyway, something Roger said about another movie just struck me. About “Titus,” he said something to the effect that the movie was better than the subject matter deserved. I think the same thing could be said about “The Doors.” It’s very possible that Stone made a better movie about Jim Morrison than Morrison deserved.
Ebert: As the cranberry grower said to Wally Ballou, "Now you've triggered me."
@ Donald Miller - "what say you?"
My favorite question is "why" and because I believe it's the best one to ask. Everything stems from the why, all that is meaningful and worth knowing: it's the bigger picture, the catalyst and the reason being.
What interests me about Jim Morrison, is what made his particular watch tick. The underlying pathology at work. For I believe that if you can understand WHY a thing works the way it does, you can cross the divide and bridge the chasm and transcend whatever may have stood to separate you from it. And that to "get a thing" is to spiritually acquire a little piece of yourself for discovering it in another.
And I love to collect such pieces. I love feeling how I'm connected to the bigger picture.
Here's a batch of Jim Morrison quotes. In them, I see clues about the watch and what made it tick. For after each quote I ask myself "now, why would he say that...?"
"The most loving parents and relatives commit murder with smiles on their faces. They force us to destroy the person we really are: a subtle kind of murder."
"I'm interested in anything about revolt, disorder, chaos, especially activity that appears to have no meaning. It seems to me to be the road toward freedom."
"Friends can help each other. A true friend is someone who lets you have total freedom to be yourself - and especially to feel. Or, not feel. Whatever you happen to be feeling at the moment is fine with them. That's what real love amounts to - letting a person be what he really is."
"I think in art, but especially in films, people are trying to confirm their own existences."
"The most important kind of freedom is to be what you really are. You trade in your reality for a role. You give up your ability to feel, and in exchange, put on a mask."
"We fear violence less than our own feelings. Personal, private, solitary pain is more terrifying than what anyone else can inflict."
"I think of myself as an intelligent, sensitive human being with the soul of a clown which always forces me to blow it at the most important moments."
"Listen, real poetry doesn't say anything; it just ticks off the possibilities. Opens all doors. You can walk through anyone that suits you."
"The appeal of cinema lies in the fear of death."
"Violence isn't always evil. What's evil is the infatuation with violence."
"When you make your peace with authority, you become authority."
"Whoever controls the media, controls the mind."
Jim Morrison's behavior overshadows almost everything else about him, and I've always thought it a great pity. There was a human being underneath all that stuff. And a deep lover of books. I read somewhere that he'd ask people to grab a one at random from off his shelf and open it to a page and read out a line - and he'd know just from that who'd written it.
Ever see Sid and Nancy? Or Naked? How about Trainspotting?
Now imagine a film of their caliber made about Jim, eh?
To catch a thing like Morrison, you have to avoid flying into his flame for being dazzled by it like a moth. Instead, you have strip away everything he was ever celebrated for and expose the person underneath.
Otherwise, I think every film about the guy, will just be a projection.
The end of "Naked" is a memorable scene featuring David Thewlis limping off down the road under the steam of his own self-defeating choices. A wounded, damaged thing, he too did it to himself as much as external forces were to blame, but he also inspired my empathy in the process.
As did Sid (Gary Oldman) and Renton, too (Ewan McGregor).
I hated the circus as a kid. I hated watching the animals made to perform, the trained seal, lion and bear, all those sweaty round-faces in the stands cheering - here comes the monkey! Look at the monkey! Here comes the clown - he's fallen over a water bucket; laughter, laughter, laughter.
Oh look, it's Jim Morrison! The famous and glorious Morrison! Look at the bad boy, look at him, have you ever seen such a thing?! Look at him dance and swagger and kick and scream and howl - oh what a thing! Shocked dismay and thunderous applause as they watch him fall like a spent rocket to the ground.
And so what do I say, you ask?
Why, I say that. :)
Who said what to who?
Well,I had to do a little homework, but I got it.
The Bob and Ray comedy duo: "The Cranberry, A bitter pill to swallow." In which the intrepid field reporter Wally Ballou (Bob) interviews a clueless cranberry grower (Ray), to whom the news that both juice and a tasty sauce can be made.
Chuckle ; )
Ebert: It's included here:
http://www.originaloldradio.com/bob_and_ray.html
@Marie Haws
Wow!
All I can say right now is that I'm very impressed with the way you've articulated you're point-of-view. For me to say anything more without reflecting upon it would be unwise.
Thanks for taking the time to fill me in on those quotes.
"Donald" "Roy" "Miller": I became a fan of someone on this site, and to put it mildly, he, well, I won’t go into the ugly details.
---Good. Now and only now are you fit to write my biography. "He was a moody man," you should begin, "but personally, I think he was a god." (Isn't that how NO ONE GETS OUT OF HERE ALIVE started? The only Morrison bio I read.)
GYOD I love Bob and Ray. Used to show their records to friends and they'd have me stop so they could finish laughing. I did the same.
Just the other day I was reciting to myself, the way one hums a song:
"...oh my YES. Yes, it's a rich, fertile field for anyone willing to spend long hours not working hard." (New Jersey's Most Corrupt Mayor.)
Ebert: "Gosh all get-out, Mr. Science! What's that long, brown object?"
"That's known as a board, Jimmy.
@ Donald Miller -
"Who said what to who? Well, I had to do a little homework, but I got it."
I'd just finished watching the series finale to "Life on Mars" again, so I was in a very particular head-space when I posted last night; my response more so a stream of consciousness than anything else.
Chuckle; sorry if you had to work to understand it! :)
You find Jim Morrison fascinating. I find him interesting too. And you like "this stuff" over here, whereas I like "that stuff" over there. That was my personal observation after reading your posts about Morrison.
And so I showed you my stuff for thinking once you saw it, you'd go "Ahh... okay; we both like him but for different reasons" - and then from that, draw all the obvious inferences as to why, and what it is about the guy that's speaking to us, or tapping into something at work within our own respective pathologies now, etc.
You said you "got it" but I'm just double-checking. So it that correct? Is that what you eventually worked out?
P.S. Life on Mars is a really trippy series. :)
Working hands -
It is a coincidence most bewildering that I a woman with little patience for the romantic whims of artists, such as my line of work as a coroner permits, the dissector of cold dead bodies, assessor of the inclement blows of both nature and men, were to investigate the unsympathetic cadavers of two artists in the same day felled at the peak of their astounding accomplishments.
It is my distinct displeasure to inform those scant readers who are to be moved with this telling of an inexplicable tale which occurred in a time, place and period such as any other, told by a funereal investigator of no great distinction who happens to be a most insubstantial recorder of events, such that she is able to provide details merely of the pallor of the dermis, or the friability of the bone under her tiny chisel, that these are the ramblings of an over ripened failure, enervated by her ineptness at narration and would advise that they not put too much stock in her fatuous words, for they are able to accomplish as much as her hands, that is to say, not much.
I have expended much time and energy to reach my verdict, eighty three weeks and the cost of my soul to be precise. It was in the bright light of early morning that I started the examination of the first woman, she was like the second, in her prime and bore the expression of someone whose very existence had been besieged with interminable objections to her reason and had upon her person a note with one line inscribed upon it, which for fear I shall not repeat here, or anywhere. I spent two days examining her and two more thinking of her case history, which it took me three minutes and some seconds to read. She was the same age as the second woman.
The remaining eighty two weeks and three days, I remained occupied poring over the charmed life of the second woman, who was brought to me in dull light of dusk and whose person I was also done examining in two days. She had been a most prolific chronicler of events of every variety, most of which she was herself intimately engaged in and maintained impeccable records of, so many that it filled up an entire library. She too wore the same expression. The rigours of my study have worsened my accidie to the point that I now know that a set of hands shall soon be working upon me.
Cause unknown.
A short story by Indian Idiot (H.W.)
Ebert: Kafka meets Dostoyevsky.
And this is what he said
Oh sweet nuthin'
She ain't got nothing at all
Oh sweet nuthin'
She ain't got nothing at all
She ain't got nothing at all
Oh sweet nuthin'
She ain't got nothing at all
She ain't got nothing at all
She ain't got nothing at all
@self and everyone. When composing a post, it's best to write it in Word and then transfer it to Comments. I was in the middle of revising a comment when something happended. So I don't know if it went through or not. If not, I'll rewrite it.
@Marie Haws
I guess this exchange of ours just now is a perfect metaphor for our discussion on Morrison. It's sooo easy to be misunderstood.
By Donald Miller on October 25, 2009 5:44 PM was meant for you. (I only find Morrison fascinating when I think about him, which isn't all that often. Don't want to give the impression that it's an obsession.)
The Who said what to who? was @Roger for the By Donald Miller on October 24, 2009 9:21 PM entry. I'd never heard of Bob and Ray before.
Your entry was excellent.
@A Certain Genius formerly known as Prince, er, Tom Dark.
Beats me. I only read portions of "No one here gets out alive." Which is actually lyrics from one of their weakest songs, although it is a factual observation.
@Roger, Marie, god, and all:
Tie-in to overall discussion: Perception of others, how we intend to present ourselves, radio days, and why'd she say that?
Years ago, I saw this snippet about how Paris Hilton had run out of gas in her Bentley and the Paparazi were actually very nice to her. One went and got some gas for her. When the guy got back, the first thing Paris did was ask for the change. I asked myself, why'd she do that? Apparently, it was because she had developed this idea for her Gracie Allen routine while the guy was fetching the gas. Paris kept the bills and ever so gingerly let the coins drop to the back seat's floor. It was a fine performance.
I don't know if Roger's willing to do this or not, but I'll give it a shot because he's the most likely to remember Gracie Allen.
Say goodnight, Roger.
Ebert: Goodnight, George.
Call me a cockeyed optimist, but I doubt that Paris Hilton kept the change or dropped the coins on the seat. No web coverage of the event mentions those details.
How annoying!
Sunday, Oct 25th 11:45 pm.
I was working on a post while downloading Dexter and suddenly - system error: external "something" quit, not responding. The PC then rebooted itself after a timed count down, in case I wanted to save something.
Maybe it got tired? It's been on, all day. Maybe I exhausted the system cache..? The fact I was downloading something - along with the error: "external" makes me think it was Internet related. Something choked-up? Maybe the client? They tend to be RAM hogs regardless of what you use to download something.
@ Donald Miller...
You say you were in the middle of writing a post and something happened. Does the above sound familiar? Or was it something else that happened to you?
I do know that the Chicago Sun-Times has been running software in the background to collect and upload marketing research on user activities, since adding that annoying pop-up for Monster job search. Ie: what are people clicking on? Where do they go? What are they looking at? Note: I could see it working at the bottom of my browser.
Whereas I don't see it anymore now. Maybe the techies were changing something, and it rattled an active data stream and made people's browsers choke (if you were on the site) and when your browser chokes, if your system is tired, it's enough to rattle the OS and make it hiccup?
See what I mean, Donald Miller? I'm all about the "why?" :)
Why would it do that? Everything is a bread crumb leading to the potential answer. I could be wrong and I'm just guessing while trying to calm my nerves; as I hate it when system related shyte happens and I don't know why! It sets me on edge, make me nervous for wondering if it's going to happen again the second I let down my guard.
When I understand "why" something is happening, I can cope.
When I don't, I get knots in my stomach and want to puke. Chuckle!
Clearly, I will never work for air traffic control. :)
That aside...
@ Donald Miller -
Oh, you were addressing Roger! I thought that short post was directed at me! Oh well, no harm done! You understood what I'd meant, so all's well.
I am currently reading Steven Pinker's "The Stuff of Thought: Language As a Window Into Human Nature." Not only is it fascinating, it's also wonderfully written. I highly recommend it.
I am also reading Dan Brown's "The Lost Symbol." It's pants.
Ebert: Saggy, with a loose belt?
Ebert: Saggy, with a loose belt?
That's the one. And don't get me started on the colour...
Water biscuits? Hob Nobs? Are you sure you aren't Canadian?
Roger, I have never been able to accept praise with much grace, or even a modicum of dignity, so, I'll simply thank you for comparing me with not one, but two great men, praise of which I am certain I am not worthy, but nevertheless grateful for.
Ain't got nothing at all.
Indian Idiot (H.W.)
"Ebert: Wondering if my original review might have been mistaken, I took another look at "The Doors." It still didn't work for me. Great sound track, however. "
Ha! It's a running joke between my brother and I, if we like the soundtrack, usually the movie is horrible. We first noticed it with Scream 3, but I imagine if we took another listen that soundtrack might seem a little poor now.
But it's the same with Underworld, Queen of the Damned (which was so bad, it was painful and embarassing to watch), and The Fan, which was interesting for the Nine Inch Nails song played throughout.
The most recent case I can think of is "Watchmen", which I didn't really care for. But it had a great classic rock soundtrack.
Perhaps you need one of these: La Bibliochaise.
Late to the party, but wanted to add my agreement to the chorus. The Shakespeare & Co video reminded me that I have two copies of Les Miserables, one that's a lovely leather-covered edition bound in the same volume with The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and one that's a paperback edition that my sister purchased for me from Shakespeare & Co. How could I part with either?
I can't help but wonder whether, if one were to purchase one of your (Mr. Ebert) used books online, one might be able to get it autographed by you... Such a book would make a lovely addition to a movie-loving bibliophile's collection, I'd wager.
And is that the dorkiest thing I've said or will say today? Hard to be sure; day ain't over yet...
Ebert: Well of course I would.
Oh, just the fact that you responded made my day. :)
Naturally I don't want to create more work for you, or for your minions, or what have you. Nor do I want to invade your privacy. But the obvious follow-up question to my earlier wondering is: you mentioned that you're selling your books via Amazon, and if one wants to find a particular seller of used books there, one must know either a couple of the books the seller has for sale, or the seller's username. Might you be willing to share one or the other? Or shall I simply rely on serendipity to lead me to your collection and my hoped-for inscription someday?
(I'm not normally this obsequious. I just discovered that you had a blog a few days ago, and I'm still rather starry-eyed.)
This thread continues to give me much to think about. Scanning through it on my way to making this response, I noticed that someone mentioned marginalia. Have you ever read the poem by that name by Billy Collins? During my early grad school days I spent a lovely evening with new friends, and the man who is now my partner read that poem aloud. A few years later--after we'd moved in together and combined our book collections (an important step indeed for two creative writing MFAs)--he was reading my copy of Moby Dick that I'd marked up during my second semester of my undergrad career. He was amused--and I was mortified--to find that at one point I'd written "irony" in the margin.
The short version, then, is that I have a soft spot for things written in books.
Ebert: It's Runcible Spoon Books. I have a paltry dozen or so on line. I'm not trying to get rich. I have some books I think should find people who want them -- instead of dumping them at a used book store.
I read your blog and was compelled to bookmark it. In thanks for your top entry, I offer:
http://www.youtube.com/user/SpokenVerse#p/search/0/U4zsJAPsNp8
Not to drag this into more belaboring about anti-intellectualism in the world...
But a whole lot of people seem to fall back on some weird excuse that they don't like to "read movies" when it comes to avoiding films that make heavy use of subtitles. Or use that as the fall-back excuse for not watching a foreign movie.
Sure does seem like there is a lot of animosity toward reading, even using it as proud anti-intellectualism. Does it bother anybody else when they check out a profile on a social networking site and we get cute lines like:
"Favorite Books: wuts a book lol?"
Hey Mr. E,
How many books would you say you have read in your life? If i were to read that many books, would i be as smart as you? If i were to read every classic book over the course of this year, would i be much more intelligent and articulate? what about non-fiction? Are they more stimulating? I'm trying to improve myself intellectually.
Ebert: Hmmm. I dunno. A lot. I believe if you read you will become more interesting to yourself. Except for assignments, don't read books you think you "ought" to read. After you've given it a chance, don't feel you must finish a book you dislike. When you find a book you strongly appreciate, poke around in other work by that author.
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Thank you for the n-th inspiring post, thank you for the decades-long insighful penmanship. Greetings from Hungary.
A little tidbit I'd like to associate with one of Your previous comments:
"Ebert: London and Stevenson both suffer from the impression that they wrote children's books. The Call of the Wild is an important novel. "
The issue of anti-intellectualism is constantly being raised as a problem during discussons of literature. Jack London is the author of THE cautionary tale on honest intellectual development and the shallow attachment of phonies to elevated values. I'm talking about his book "Martin Eden", which was my first truly uplifting reading experience. It may have been a paperback edition, but I'm sure it was bound by some kind of spell. It is a profound, mature piece of literature and it still works wonders on a teenager's mind.
Thanks for letting me share.
It makes me quite happy that you liked my blog, and I very much appreciate the YouTube link!
I love that you chose the name Runcible Spoon Books. Slices of quince, ahoy! I wasn't able to find your storefront; apparently my Google-Fu is not as strong as I thought, and Amazon has the strange restriction that one can't search by store name (ostensibly for privacy reasons, I suppose?). I was torn between wanting to simply let the matter drop so as not to be a pest, and thinking that I still think getting to buy a book you've personally held and enjoyed is a neat idea, and my birthday is next month and I'm turning thirty, so I'm working on surrounding myself with unusual and lovely things to satisfy my inner magpie in hopes of staving off the oh-ye-gods-what-am-I-doing-with-my-life birthday-induced panic. What am I doing with my life? I'm amassing an eccentric collection of books, is what.
So, if you'd care to let slip another detail, such as a particular book you've listed, that would help, but I really do hate to be a pest, so if you would prefer not to, I will understand and be perfectly content.
I'm currently reading And the Band Played On. Could be that it's not helping with my existential anxiety -- but it is exceptional nonetheless.
Dear Mr. Ebert,
Thank you for the n-th inspiring post, thank you for the decades-long insighful penmanship. Greetings from Hungary.
A little tidbit I'd like to associate with one of Your previous comments:
"Ebert: London and Stevenson both suffer from the impression that they wrote children's books. The Call of the Wild is an important novel. "
The issue of anti-intellectualism is constantly being raised as a problem during discussons of literature. Jack London is the author of THE cautionary tale on honest intellectual development and the shallow attachment of phonies to elevated values. I'm talking about his book "Martin Eden", which was my first truly uplifting reading experience. It may have been a paperback edition, but I'm sure it was bound by some kind of spell. It is a profound, mature piece of literature and it still works wonders on a teenager's mind.
Thanks for letting me share.
Wow, I finally read this after having it minimized in my taskbar for over two months. I must say that this is a heartening blog entry- I've collected many movies (VHS, DVD, and Blu-Ray), music recordings (cassette and CD), books, and a few magazines and newspaper selections over the years- and I often feel bad about being materialistic. I also have a hefty sports card collection from childhood.
Lately, I've felt this existential despair (sometimes anxiety) that I don't make enough of my own contributions- that I spend too much time appreciating the contributions of others. At least, my writings (and the occasional photograph or Photoshop "art") touch a few people on Facebook and my teachers.
Nonetheless, this article has done some part to reaffirm my faith in myself as a collector of media.
P.S. - I'm also enthusiastic about sitting by open windows, porches, and other places securely watching (and listening to) the rain. However, where I differ, is that I like to put on my black boots, a cap, and a snow jacket or windbreaker and take long walks or bicycle rides in the rain, and THEN come back, take a shower, put on some casual clothes and continue to watch (and listen to) the rain by a window. Or I don't take a shower and continue to enjoy the rain from some protected public place. Appropriately, I like being in used book stores while it's raining. I did this only a few weeks ago at The Bookman. Honestly, most places are better while it's raining, the obvious requirement being that there needs to be a view of the rain (and preferably sound)- hence underground kitchens, for example, do not benefit from the rainy ambiance.
Roger,
I joined the club of Kindle users over Christmas.
I bought it mainly to help my youngest, who is struggling with reading. He reads, but struggles. I read to him, but he can't see the words that I am reading. I bought the Kindle for it's experimental "text to speech" feature. That way he can read it and hear it simultaneously. I think this will be effective.
I've downloaded at least one book for every family member, and we pass it around. I got Dan Brown's new novel for me.
I realized today that I'm part way in to a lot of regular books at the moment:
Going Rogue - Palin (excellent read!)
Dreams of My Father - Obama (also interesting)
The Greatest Show on Earth - Dawkins
Your Inner Fish
Arguing with Idiots - Beck
and
Home of the Brave - Caspar Weinberger (the story of 19 decorated heroes in the War on Terror that you've never heard of)
I guess I should quit spreading myself around and just finish one!
I don't throw away books - I go to bookcrossing.com BookCrossing is earth-friendly, and gives you a way to share your books, clear your shelves, and conserve precious resources at the same time. adventure. When you finish a book,log it on the website then leave it on a park bench, a coffee shop, at a hotel on vacation. Share it with a friend or tuck it onto a bookshelf at the gym -- anywhere it might find a new reader! What happens next is up to fate, and we never know where our books might travel. Track the book's journey around the world as it is passed on from person to person.
Hi Roger--
It's such a delight to read your blog.I never would have dreamed watching you on TV for all those years what a splendid writer you are.
Like you, i live in a house full of books and adore most and love others. But i must confess that i recently said if we had a fire i'd grab my husband and my KindleDX. That darned electronic whizbang is a constant delight to me. It lets me read books i would never have considered buying in print because i wasn't sure i had a place to put them. Now they sit there in cyberspace waiting for me to read them again--or not. I wouldn't want my copy of the Bhagavad gita or the plays of Shaw or Wilde to be on Kindle (although i recently downloaded the Importance of Being Earnest for free)but a lot of books are simply better on a Kindle. Everything in its place.
Thank you again for the great reading experience.
M Siskelr. Ebert; I am a 70 year old retiree, a great fan of Siskel and Ebert who had lost track of you after your departure from TV. I knew you still reviewed for the "Sun-Times" and were fighting cancer, but had know idea of the many trials you have faced, and how remarkably you have dealt with them until the recent article in "Esquire". The reason I write is to express the joy I feel from having new insight into your relationship with Mr. Siskel. As much as I enjoyed At The Movies, I always regreted my perception that you were not friends. The article put that idea to rest. I miss you both together. Wishing you continuing happiness.
Have you read Islandia, Mr. Ebert? If not you should get to it soon.
Mr. Ebert,
Thank you so much for this piece. I'm a graduate student in English at Texas A&M, and I've tried to explain to people why the book as a physical object matters. Often they tend to respond as Matthew did in your early comments, with the thought that digital versions are just as good. You've helped to make clear they are not.
My soon-to-be fiance and I both like Victorian and Edwardian furnishings, and when we can we try to decorate in that manner. Where we differ, of course, is that she wants a proper appearance, whereas I want the sort of eclectic appeal of an old curio shop. I only have about 1700 books, but my hope is to someday have something like you have. I am truly envious.
I found this blog today, and I feel that I absolutely must share it with you:
http://bibliodyssey.blogspot.com/
A book lover could spend hours and hours there.
For bonus points: if you scroll down the page, you'll find the work of one Karl Ebert. Hm...
This remains my favorite of all of your journal entries that I have read.
This blog post was an inspiration to me, Mr. Ebert. I've been writing and I've gotten a short story published (technically the story published was in the process of being written/edited/revised before I even read this post, but this post inspired nonetheless) in a small online magazine or an e-zine or whatever people call them. It's not the best I've written, but everything else so far is still just being submitted to places here and there.
http://www.moonmilkreview.com/2010/05/10/visions-through-the-glass/
Yeah, it's a pretty shameless plug and the story isn't that great, being the first one I ever really sat down and seriously wrote, and you probably won't read it, but a person isn't often able to have access to their inspirations like this, especially when a person's inspiration is someone of your stature. Have I flattered you enough? Hopefully if I flatter you a lot, it will make you more likely to read it. On the flip side, it might make you less likely to read it. Whatever. Just sayin'.
Hi Roger
I'm a Capetonian and it was lovely to read a little about your time here. You're right that the pub's name was The Pig & Whistle. I think it gained quite an unsavoury reputation before it closed. It re-opened some years later as The Pig & Swizzle.
Did you ever go to the CAFDA bookshop in Claremont? It's a used book store run by a charity and there are thousands of books crammed onto old wooden shelves. The shop is staffed by volunteers, all pensioners, and they're lovely people. I spent many happy hours in that shop.
I currently have maybe a thousand books and have run out of shelf space - there are piles of books all over. I have two small shelves reserved for books I have yet to read. At any given time there are about 25-30 books crammed onto those two shelves.
I can't imagine a life without books. I don't want to imagine a life without books. Books saved my life and they feed my soul. Just looking at my books makes me feel better. When I get too stressed at work I slip out to visit a nearby bookshop, where I can feel the tension slowly drain away as I browse the shelves.
You can never write too many articles about the love of books.
Ebert: I loved quiet weekend lunches at the Pig, and first would stop across the way at the CNA to get the New Statesman to read. Never found the bookstore you mentioned, but found a lot of others, my favorite being Cranford's Bookshop on Long Street. Is it still there? I bought a three-volume Oxford Shakespeare there, just the right size to fit in the hand.
Please check out my more recent blogs for more activity in the comments section--although I'm glad you found this one.
Yesterday I had to meet someone at Barnes & Noble; I bought two books that I hadn't intended to, had never heard of, and don't need to add to the stack of unread books in my life, because they looked interesting, and someday I might need them.
My mother doesn't understand how hard it is to get rid of books (she's a reader, as is everyone in my family), and you've summed it up beautifully here. I may not have read it yet, but someday I might need to because I might need to know what someone wanted to write down.
Thank you for writing this. It makes me sad that some people look upon reading a real book as something quaint. I embrace technology for a lot of things, but I don't see myself ever going digital for my books. I come from a long line of librarians, so that may have something to do with it, but no feeling is better than diving into the great unknown when you start a new book.
Thanks Roger. I've been loving your recent tweet series mocking ebooks. Just brilliant. For me books are living things - used books even more so. I care for my own like children. Anytime I see a book burning in a movie I cry.
There's an incredible novel that explores the idea of a book as a living soul called The Shadow of the Wind by Carlos Ruiz Zafon. Every book lover should read it. The backdrop of the story (set in between world wars in Barcelona) is a massive, secret library that contains all of the banned books in the world known about only by the bookstore owners in the city. Each new visitor (who is sworn to secrecy) is allowed to take one book, of their choosing, home. Anyone who loves books would adore this one. It is beautifully written. Cheers!
My brother is a pilot in the United States Air Force and an avid reader. He has a respectable collection of books and, while home, is rarely seen without one, if not in his hand, at least at arm's length.
Unfortunately, he is not always at home. Being in the military he spends a great deal of time deployed overseas, for months at a time, where carrying around the dozens of books he may read in that timeframe is simply not possible. E-book technology allows him not to abandon his reading habit while deployed. The device he uses has enough memory for a small library, its batteries last for weeks at a time, and it is small, durable, and has a screen that avoids the eye strain common in computer monitors.
While I understand (and agree with) the arguments that actual, physical books are not replaced by their electronic counterparts, your recent tweets seem to betray an undue hostility toward the technology, and the logical conclusion of that hostility would deny my brother the ability to read what he wants when he doesn't have access to his entire physical library. That makes your point of view more than a little distasteful to me.
I'm overjoyed to see just how many people seem to get it. To be honest, being in the younger subset of the population (recent Bachelor's Degree recipient; surrounded by iconoclasts and technophiles at a Design institution), it can be hard to explain to people why I love physical books instead of convenient PDFs (or vinyl, or Criterions for that matter).
I have to agree with you, Roger, in your statement on having nothing against the Kindle, just not wanting one. I believe technology has its uses, but the choice you make inevitably reflects what it is you want out of the experience. I have a computer full of music to listen to while I work, but I've also got a treasured and ever-growing collection of LPs. Frankly, the experience of sitting down and listening to a record and listening to an MP3 through computer speakers while you do something else are completely different animals, and neither one can be compared to the other. Similarly, a Kindle is convenient for carrying a lot of "books" around with you, or being able to buy thousands of titles at a moment's notice without having to leave your house, but can't compare to the experience of walking into a bookstore or library and smelling, touching, almost tasting the books you're about to read/re-read...of simply browsing and discovering something new completely by accident. Breadth and convenience vs. depth and appreciation.
Lastly, the new technological version of the book is completely useless for anyone who has a library for artistic reference; sometimes, the design of the book, or the beautiful colour prints inside are the whole point. Who wants to read Watchmen or From Hell in e-book format? Or Leonardo Da Vinci's Sketchbook? I love Neil Gaiman's short stories, but the version of Fragile Things I enjoy best is the gorgeous hardback with a translucent dust jacket...the design of the cover adds that much more to the whole experience. Similarly, reading classic editions of classic books like Paradise Lost instead of the cheap paperback version (though I've got that too) is for the gorgeous accompanying Gustave Dore illustrations, of course!
On that note, I've been meaning to pick up the Folio Society's gorgeous version of Lord of the Flies (a book I could own again and again); Sam Weber's breathtaking illustrations add yet another dimension to a book I've been in love with since I first read it in high school English.
"Still, I keep it around in case anyone sees. Can't have the girls thinking I completely lack all ambition, can I?"
"We wear those novels like a badge."
Two very good illustrations of the pretensions behind not so much the owning as the *displaying* of books (or records, for that matter). For some reason, it's not enough to simply consume the material--others must know that we have read these volumes. Or at least think that we have.
The whole thing puts me in mind of the folks who spend their entire vacations to whatever exciting locale snapping photos of themselves to show that they were where they were--instead of just enjoying the fact of being there. I'd much rather experience it than concern myself with letting someone else know that I had.
Life is too short to read things because you think you should, or because you want others to think you have. Read what you read because you like it, because it moves you, or even because you learn something from it.
I have dozens of books at home that I haven't read (but intend to), but if I go into our library, it's like a chocolate store, and I CAN'T leave without one. I have no will power.
Ebert: Are you like me? Every home you've ever lived in has had a Library? Including when you lived in one room? When that was me, I explained, "I put my bed in the Library."
I'm a medievalist by training, specializing in medieval English and Celtic literatures. I have a Ph.D. in English from UCLA. I love books.
But I love books no matter what container they are in; cuneiform tablets of Gilgamesh, payprus scrolls for The Book of the Dead, early manuscripts like Sinaiticus that don't even use word spaces, The Tain from The Book of the Dun Cow/Lebor na hUidre, the Red Book of Hergest, The Hengwrt and Ellesmere Chaucer . . . and the books I read on my iPad, my laptop, and my phone.
A book (the word means "beech," literally) is a container. The kind of container has changed over the years, but they are all tupperware for text, and image, and now, with silicon siding, music, and video.
I've made books, of vellum, and parchment and payprus and paper. And I've been making ebooks for over twenty years, first for UCLA, then for The Voyager Company, the people who made the Criterion Collection, and CD-ROMs about Mabeth, and A Hard Day's Night and volumes from The Modern Libary.
As a scholar, I love ebooks that let me use links to follow a reference, or see a high quality scan of a manuscript or page.
As someone who is rapidly losing my eyesight, who often can't read my thousands of printed books, my iPad and the hundreds of ebooks I've bought are things of joy.
I can read again, easily, with pleasure and not frustration.
Think about that as well, please, before condemning ebooks. Think as well about the prospect of making more quality carefully printed, and designed and typeset and bound codex books that will last three, four, or five hundred years, instead of a paperback that may not even make it past ten.
The ebook is not an enemy of the printed codex book; it is instead, rather like the introduction of the paperback.
Ebert: I agree. I'm not a Luddite. What I fear is that the printed book will come to seem too expensive to produce.
Growing up in Omaha during the 1980s, I would haunt the city's used bookstores, when one could still find comic strip collection paperbacks for a quarter. Having discovered the first Pogo collection one summer when I was ten, I quickly acquired the complete library (including the Songs of the Pogo LP!)
I even ventured downtown to the bohemian area of the city, where the Antiquarium bookstore contained three floors of books, records, magazines, other ephemera, and (gasp) gays. The comics were kept down in the basement, in the same corner with the girlie mags. I could actually flip through the old issues of Playboys, and bought every issue with Little Annie Fanny inside. (Yes, I read it for the cartoons.)
Now, living in New York, in the age of eBay, it's hard to find a good bargain. I avoid used bookstores, because invariably, I find books I never knew existed, know I'll never see again, and so, much purchase. An hour later, I'm leaving with twenty pounds of books worth $150. But sometimes I find rare gems, and if it's less than $10, then I can justify the expense.
My apartment is of a good size, and most of my current library is stored in boxes, awaiting donation to a library one day.
Ellison's quote is good. One day, I wish to have a library stocked with books. When a guest asks, "Have you read all of these books?" I will be able to reply, "Oh, no, don't be silly! Of course not! I haven't read the books in that bookcase by the door."
Mr. Morgan's library is probably the nicest, purest example:
http://www.themorgan.org/about/historyMore.asp?id=18
Although, if I get reincarnated, I wish to do so as a book in Jay Walker's library:
http://www.wired.com/techbiz/people/magazine/16-10/ff_walker?currentPage=all
And, yes, your "100 Movies" collection is in a box somewhere, acquired when you signed at the Lincoln Center B&N. (I did read the entire book, but have not seen all of the movies.) When I do shelve it, I'll make sure to place next to "One More Time: The Best of Mike Royko".
Ebert: I, too, own and have read the complete Pogo. I think Walt Kelly really did draw the best comic strip of all time.
I just moved all of my books to my new apartment in Ohio. It was awful, but it'll be worth it when I unpack them and rediscover what I have.
However, I must confess: I am lusting over an Amazon Kindle. Not to replace paper or anything, but because of the sheer volume of free, pre-copyright books out there that I'll be required to read but won't have room for until I live in a proper house. I know that libraries exist and I support them, but every experience I've ever had checking out a book has ended up disastrously for me.
So: eBooks...not a replacement, but a fine supplement.
I've never thrown away a book (blasphemy to do so!), but isn't it sweet to give a child a book for them to love? Among my collection I have many volumes from old relatives, and some of those taken from yet older relatives and friends. I treasure their memories every time I see those books.
"Here," I said gravely to my cousin. "Take this. It's very special." Special too is the thought of the enjoyment he'll get from it, and the hope that perhaps he'll find a lifetime of books to love.
Ebert: I gave The Far Pavilions to our granddaughter because I knew she would love it. Sooner or later she'll start it out of curiosity.
I'm glad you mention all the books you own that you haven't read yet. I seem to have to same problem. At any given time, I'll be reading three books at once while dreaming about five more that I just "need" to read. This form of "novel A.D.H.D" sometimes keeps me from ever finishing a certain books. I think I've gotten more than half-way through The Unbearable Lightness of Being at least 4 times without ever having finished it. I've read (and finished) more than a few Dickens novels, but for some reason never made it to the end of David Copperfield. I told my father about this problem and he replied that it was "a sickness."
My father died five years ago and I recently found a book that made me feel I'd discovered a part of him still existing in this world. The summer before I moved across the country for college, my family went on a trip to visit my grandfather and for a reason I can't remember, my dad and I were on a different flight than the rest of my family. In the airport, he spontaneously suggested we get matching bracelets at the airport jewelry store so that I "wouldn't forget him at college." On the flight, he spoke so openly and so personally about himself and his life, things he was usually so reserved about, that I had to wonder at the sudden change. On this trip, I loaned him my copy of The Power and The Glory by Graham Greene...another book I had only gotten three-fourths of the way through. He loved it so much that, a week later, waiting for the flight home, he actually read a passage aloud to me in the terminal, so unreservedly enraptured in the prose.
He died a year later and I haven't been able to find either of our bracelets since (they unfortunately had a faulty clasp). But this last Christmas I went home to visit my mom and after finding my copy of The Power and the Glory, I found hidden in its pages, used as a makeshift bookmark, his boarding pass from that flight where, years ago, he insisted that I know him as a person, even beyond what I knew of him as a father. I still can't bring myself to finish the novel completely.
Ebert: Books can be time capsules.
I have, and have always had, a lot of books. My library is currently scattered around the house with the bulk of it even dignified by a brass "LIBRARY" that I bought from the University of Wisconsin Law Library during the refurb when I was a student. And yes, there is something about a book that lends itself to fetishization. The creases and discolorations of a well-used book are a patina of memory. But they are heavy. And bulky.
I know you've lived other places. But I'm wondering how often you've moved? It's one thing to go to France or England for months or a few years knowing the bulk of your belongings are safely back "home". Once I stopped being able to rely on my parents' basement, sifting and winnowing became essential. Madison to San Francisco to Brooklyn to England. Each step (less so the countless sidesteps en route) has required decisions.
It would be easy to fetishize this process too. "You can't really appreciate your [books, music, rare masonry samples, etc.] unless and until you've faced the choice of this one or that." It's certainly true that I value certain books I have more as objects than anything else and that because they were important enough to me to preserve the value to me increases over time. But I buy books because I like to read them. An appreciation for their physicality and aesthetics is definitely present but a distant concern.
Since I bought my first portable MP3 back in 2000 or 2001 (Hango PJB-100 represent!) It's helped me listen to more music. DVDs helped me watch more movies. And although I try and carry a book everywhere (and have a nice train commute that makes fitting in extra reading a joy), sometimes I finish one without another along. That's what an ereader is good for. Buy another book right now. Carry not just an extra book but an extra library. And so an ebook reader could help me read more books.
I'm facing another move soon I think. One that will probably force me to abandon almost all of my books. I'll probably save a hundred or so. And will doubtless buy more in the future and rebuild. But this will probably be the event that pushes me into ebooks. It's already convinced me to abandon my DVDs and CDs in favor of ripped versions on my (small size but huge capacity) servers. (I will also keep the 20 or so bits of obscure vinyl I keep lugging around even though I haven't played any of it in more than a decade.) Ideally I'd like to be able to buy "real" books that came bundled with ebook codes. That would be worth a couple of bucks per book to me.
Anyway, this long comment is just a way of noting that for a city dweller, you sure seem to have a lot of lawn for the kids to keep off of. (In case that sounds harsh I leave you with what I hope will provoke a smile: While surfing yesterday I came across a torrent for 18 Ayn Rand ebooks. The idea of rabid Randian copyright violators tickled me.)
Ebert: I haven't moved in 20 years. But before that there were a lot of moves and a lot off winnowing. Now I give books that have any worth to the Newberry Library book sale.
Mr. Ebert wrote:
Ebert: I agree. I'm not a Luddite. What I fear is that the printed book will come to seem too expensive to produce.
Most of the cost of producing a printed book happens before the book is printed; acquisition (advance) editorial salaries, design, art, typestting--those are by far the largest portion of the costs. A professional published massmarket paperback is only about two dollars less to produce than an ebook; a hardcover is three to four, for a consumer quality binding.
What I think will happen is that things like scholarly monographs will go to digital versions, and many books will be published first as ebooks, with POD or digital custom printing available in various ways. Books with known audiences/buyers will be printed as they are now, in hardcover and paperback.
Paperbacks being printed now on low acid recycled paperback are much more likely to survive than those printed in the 1990s. That makes me happy as well.
I love 50,000 Books in El Cajon. And I love books. But I don't think they're of real importance beyond their content. I know a lot of people have great affection for the physical things that books are, but I just don't. I dogear pages, give away books if I've read them, and only have maybe 20 shelves of books in my house at any time. The things themselves just aren't important to me, which is why I was one of the people getting tired of the tweets about e-books. I didn't take it that you were slamming e-books so much as deifying paper books, when I just don't see what the great big deal is. No, that's not true: I *see* what the big deal is to people; I just don't share the sense of big-dealness.
Books DO furnish OUR lives. But can you use them to furnish another persons life?...not to educate—that would be arrogant, less than that—to make suggestions to...stillness.
http://tinyurl.com/32fcpyk
Yann Martel is giving it a try. I take great pleasure in reading his letters to my PM. I thought you might too, and that is why writing this comment.
"Kindness is more important than wisdom, and the recognition of this is the beginning of wisdom." -- Theodore Isaac Rubin
Thanks everyone for pointing out that I spelled "butterflies" wrong in my last tweet. You are saving the Internet with every annoying post!