Thoughts From the Dirty City

I’m giving up on Tooth Imprints on a Corn Dog. Actually, I gave up on it about a week ago I’ve just been to lazy to find something else to read. It’s not that the book was terrible or anything, just not my thing. It’s a collection of pseudo short stories, a lot of rambling nonsense and one clever little play smushed in the mix. I think what bugged me most about this book was the authors need to use the biggest word he could think of in every farkwading sentence. You’re smart and have a great vocabulary, I get it. If only he was actually saying something with all those big words. Alas, halfway through I started to think that none of the rambling was really going anywhere and gave up.

Since putting Corn Dogs down I’ve been supplementing with Grimm’s Fairytails. A lot of the stories are familiar ones (Rapunzel, Sleeping Beauty, etc) but some I had never read or heard of. Most of them were only a few pages long and nowhere near as grim as the title would have you believe. All the tails are odd and seem to just stop mid thought and wrap everything up in a sentence or two. Probably something to do with them being written for kids. It’s been nice just leafing through and reading in bursts, but I’m ready to dive into a novel again.

So I went to the library and grabbed the first thing that looked interesting. I do this a lot at the library. There is a list of books I want to read and authors I enjoy, but somehow when I walk into a library my mind goes blank and all I can think is “books…burble…words…huh”. Sometimes the random grabs work out, sometimes not so much. Either way, I have something to read again!

The random grab: The Plague by Albert Camus. (I blame my recent stomach issues for drawing me to a book about disease.) Here is hoping it works out better than the Corn Dog book.

Also:
Working extra hours and spending vast amounts of time hunched over a production table with an exacto have rendered me nearly brain dead the last few days. My hands, shoulders and feet ache. I will be so freaking happy when this project is wrapped up and I can get back to some sort of normalcy.

I’ve always been told that you either love Bukowski, or you hate him. There is no middle ground. While I get what people mean when they say this, I think for me it was closer to loving to hate him.

The book is fairly autobiographical of the authors younger years…and his life was not an easy one. He grew up tough, the ultimate outsider. And while I think we can all relate to that on some level, it’s a bit tougher to relate to someone (for me anyway) so uninterested in finding happiness. This books gives the impression that Bukowski gave up on the idea at a very early age.

Bitter and angry at the world (for good reason) Bukowski seemed to move through this portion of his life doing anything in his power to be as mean and aggressive as was in his power. Like I said, it isn’t necessarily without reason. The guy had it rough. And I really wanted to like the character. To relate to him. But I couldn’t, and I’m not entirely sure I was supposed to. Or anyone was supposed to for that matter.

At the same time I really appreciate the honesty and intensity that Bukowski puts out there. He says it as he sees it and feels it, without the need to fluff it up in anyway. It’s powerful and touching somehow if not somewhat frustrating and completely unnerving.

A lot of people compare this book to Catcher in the Rye. As I wasn’t a huge fan of that book and don’t really remember too much about it I wont really comment. But having just recently read Hesse’s Stepenwolf I couldn’t help but see some parallels between the two. Both were written about characters almost completely removed from society. The intensity of loathing for both themselves and the world around them seemed to follow the same grain. But while Hesse’s character searched for answers and a deeper understanding of himself, Bukowski seems content to numb himself and travel further and further from a need for explanation or understanding. Content to just exist in the most removed way possible.

So, would I recommend this book? I think I have to. I mean Bukowski is one of the most iconic writers of our times. How can you not at least check it out and see what all the hype is about. At the same time, I have no doubt that there will be a lot of people that can’t relate to it in anyway and will be completely turned off by it.

I’m not going to immediately pick up another Bukowski book, but I know this will not be the last of his books that I read. I think I just need a little time out before exploring further.

Next up: Tooth Imprints On A Corndog by Mark Leyner
I have NO IDEA what this book is about but it has corndog in the title so I’m hopeful for something a bit more lighthearted and humorous.

I’ll start with the author’s description:

“This is a bawdy tale. Herein you will find gratuitous shagging, murder, spanking, maiming, treason, and heretofore unexplored heights of vulgarity and profanity, as well as nontraditional grammar, split infinitives, and the odd wank . . . If that’s the sort of thing you think you might enjoy, then you have happened upon the perfect story!”

That is being nice. This book is down right raunchy. But not in a bodice ripping smut novel kinda way. The raunch is really the platform for the humor. A way to take a tragic comedy and flip it around on it’s ass…or in this case, it’s codpiece. In any case, I’m a fan of Christopher Moore and like pretty much everything of his I’ve read. So I really liked this book. It isn’t my favorite of his, but it’s definitely up there.

There are hidden meanings and agenda’s in all his books. Some profound, most just snarky. This one falls somewhere in between. I would say it’s a slap to the face of Shakespeare and the class system in general. It’s basically a rewrite of King Lear told through the perspective of someone who likes to say the “f” word a lot.

I give it two thumbs up because it is, in fact the kind of thing I enjoy from time to time. Sometimes it’s nice to pick up a book that isn’t exceptionally emotional and is written more to entertain than to change lives and enlighten the reader.

If this is your type of thing, but you want something slightly less raunchy you might want to pick up Moore’s book A Dirty Job. It is equally funny, but far less insulting for those that don’t appreciate vulgarity quite so much.
Next up: Ham on Rye by Charles Bukowski
Part of me thinks I’ve read this before, but I can’t remember. I checked it out from the library so I figure if it all starts coming back to me in chapter two I can just swap it out for a different one. I do know I read a Bukowski book many years ago and only kinda liked it. But I’ve also been discovering that things I didn’t like or relate to years ago are now starting to become some of my favorite things. Yeah, I’m old now. It happens. So I’m either giving it another shot, or picking it up for the first time. Either way…I’ll let you know how it goes.

I said I was going to make an attempt to keep up on tracking what I’ve read, and what I thought about it. Sorta fell off that wagon the moment I jumped on it.

Anyway, here is what I’ve been reading lately and a breif recap of what I thought. I’m not going to write any synopsis, or go over the plot…that is what book jackets (and google) is for.

Herman Hesse
Steppenwolf and Sidhartha

I’m going to be very vague and speak generally about both.  Ultimately, I think both are about the journey of self discovery. The author was very into Eastern theology. That was obvious through both books, though much more obviously in Sidhartha. Each book presented a very different journey, but both had the same goal; to find unity and balance within oneself (they just name that something different in each of the books). The Steppenwolf’s journey was through torment and self doubt while Sidhartha’s was through knowledge, experience and eventually self sacrifice.

Way genaric description of both. But honestly, I think these are the kinds of books you just have to read for yourself. I think each will mean something different to each person that reads them.  Regardless, both are very powerful books. I highly recommend. I do want to add that Steppenwolf is about as uncomfortable to read as a book can be, but totally worth it.

Alice Steinbach
Without Reservations: The Travels of an Independent Women

Subhead – my attempt at a book review – I have never been any good at these.

**unrelated side note**
I like to read, and would like to read more often than I currently do. Problem is I tend to forget books immediately after finishing them (unless I was madly in love with said book – that almost never happens). So, I’m going to start occasionally reviewing the books I read and liked. Don’t worry, I’ll try to keep it quick and to the point.

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I picked up this book because it has been floating around my dad’s book stacks for forever. Well, mainly for that reason. But also because I saw the movie “Fried Green Tomatoes” and was reminded that I am a total girl when I cried like a baby. If you hated that movie you are a heartless monster. Right, anyway, about this book….

Title: Daisy Fay and the Miracle Man (also published under the title Coming Attractions)

Author: Fanny Flagg

I’m not entirely sure where the Miracle Man comes into play in this story as there are many men, but very few miracles. Well, one, but the man involved in that sub plot had little to do with the overall story, and surely wasn’t deserving of a title role. In any case, when I say there were a lot of men, there are, but not in that sense (buncha pervs, the lot of you). While the narrator is a girl, the book is awesomely romantically drama free. There are almost no moments of heartbreak over cheating men, or bad choices in love. Okay, there is one. But it’s a coming of age book in many ways, and that is kind of a right of passage.

I take that back. The mother/father relationship is a constant thorn in my side in this book. It’s there, and romantically tragic and constant. But it seems more a motivator for moving the story along than attempting to tug at the heartstrings.  I think a lot of that comes from the fact that the narrator is so naive to what is happening. So yeah…romantic drama…there but not really a driving force in the book.

Right, that is what it wasn’t. See, told ya. I have no idea how to review a book.

The story of Daisy Fay is told through her diary beginning just after her 11^th birthday and ending just after graduation. It’s the story of surviving in a broken home, surrounded by a lot of drama, very little of it the main characters.

It’s the story of imperfect people, living an imperfect life in a not so perfect world with not so perfect circumstances. But despite all that, the stories namesake is genuinely upbeat and optimistic.

What is memorable about this book:
There are real tragedies in this story, but overall the book is generally uplifting. Not so much surviving and finding a way to carry on as much as it is about just moving forward. Always seeing the humor in the situation and always willing to move on to what is just out of sight. There is very little dwelling on the negative in this book.

Another side note (I like sides)
I’ve read one other of Flagg’s books (don’t remember which one – argh) and remembered one thing that seems to be a common thread in much of her writing. The deep south during the 50’s (about) crop up a lot in her writing. So much so that it almost becomes a separate character. Personally, I find it a bit tedious and unnecessary. But maybe that is because I’m a yank and just don’t understand. Either way – it’s fully present in this tale as well.

I don’t like rating books, or awarding stars. Overall, I enjoyed the book. It wasn’t the greatest book in the world, but I wouldn’t warn people against it or anything.

On a somewhat completely unrelated note: every time I bring up the movie Fried Green Tomatoes, or Fannie Flagg for that matter, I am stricken with the notion that I need to watch the movie Beaches again. I have no idea why this happens….I blame my mother.