Four Long Roads, Two Good Friends, & One Great Book Club Discussion

“I wasn’t scared; I was just somebody else, some stranger, and my whole life was a haunted life, the life of a ghost. I was halfway across America, at the dividing line between the East of my youth and the West of my future, and maybe that’s why it happened…”   --Jack Kerouac, On the Road

This past get together featured Jack Kerouac’s Beat Generation classic, On the Road. Some books just pull discussion out of you like rope out of your hands in a lopsided tug-of-war match, and this book is one of them. I began our talk by mentioning how On the Road wasn’t what I expected. I thought I was going to get a hipper, updated, more accessible version of Walden. I thought the book would consist of 1/3 narration and 2/3 poetic, philosophical ruminations about post-war America. Since it wasn’t, we discussed what exactly the book was, not so much what it was about but how would we characterize it.

We wanted to separate expectations from reality. Keruouac’s intentions vs. our assumptions. Bob brought up the idea that the book is not about the literal journeys across the US but about the figurative inward one. It’s easy to get hung up on the adventurous aspects of this story, but the travels are only vehicles that Kerouac uses to get to what he’s really after: a discussion about the realization of confronting your limitations (self-imposed and otherwise) and trying to accede them. We added that the journey we have, whatever it is, must have an element of true danger. If the hazards are contrived, then the travels lack authenticity, which undercuts their effectiveness. The moments you find yourself in must be real, not manufactured, which is why Bob and his woman stopped using a safe word. But I digress…

…If I may oversimplify for a moment, the point is this: On the Road could’ve been about one journey from Nashville to Memphis if that’s all it took for him to come to the realization about who he is, who he was, and who he needed to be.

The journey motif in literature is huge, and we could’ve spent all day discussing it, but there’s more to the book than his physical and metaphysical travels. We also talked about how Sal Paradise (the Kerouac character) and Dean Moriarty (Neal Cassady) were opposites who balanced one another. The two needed each other even as they worked in opposition to each other. For a group who spent 2 months reading Sherlock Holmes, we couldn’t help but point out how the name Moriarty has literary significance as the nemesis of Doyle’s hero. Kerouac drew upon that nomenclature to emphasize how, despite their friendship, the Paradise and Moriary are not to be identified synonymously.

Yet we modern readers have trouble separating them simply because we must identify them together as 2 figure heads of the Beat Generation. Along with the characters of the movement, we had to discuss the characteristics of it as well. So we also talked upon the language Kerouac employs. As mentioned earlier, I loved his poetic bursts of philosophical insight and was expecting more of it. But Mandy pointed out that had the whole novel been like that, we would not have the jazzy rhythms that mark the book’s style.

 The vapid moments could be characterized by the steady thumping of a bass guitar, while the philosophic commentary would parallel the improvisation of trumpet blasts. Mandy, whose husband is a musician, would’ve been more attuned to the musicality of the novel. Several of us mentioned that we were more familiar with jazz so that we could’ve appreciated that aspect of the story.

There’s a couple of interesting points that we hit upon such as the nature of belief, the non-linearness of the story, and the satire towards society that Kerouac incorporates. Perhaps some of you could hit on those things in the comments section. But I want to end by going back to the idea of balance. Just as Paradise and Moriarty balanced one another, I like the concept of balance in our personal lives. Kerouac could not have gone on the trips nor written the book had his mom not supported him both morally and financially. I like that we talked about how no one succeeds in a vacuum. Anyone who does anything has people willing to help them in some fashion. I’m reminded of a New Yorker article by Malcolm Gladwell, “Why do we associate Genius with Precocity.” It’s still in the essay section if you want to visit to NewYorker.com and check it out (There’s your plug. Can I have my money now?). But it’s about how we think of genius in terms of prodigies and that we often overlook late bloomers who develop slowly over a long period of time, often with someone supporting them while they write or paint or build their business.

I think we’d all recommend the book, but with a caveat: the more you know about post-war America, the better. Also, don’t expect a non-stop adventure. Some parts seemed (and I’m speaking just for myself here) a little insipid. I would read this with a friend or at the very least, with the intent of discussing it.

Some works mentioned during the discussion: Pimpin’ Pimpin’ by Katt Williams, Lolita by Nabakov, Dharma Bums and Big Sur both by Kerouac, “Howl” by Allen Ginsburg, Walden by Thoreau, The Illiad and The Odyssey by Homer

BucksandBooks Meets Capote's Blood

“On November 15, 1959, in the small town of Holcomb, Kansas, four members of the Clutter family were savagely murdered by blasts from a shotgun held a few inches from their faces. There was no apparent motive for the crime, and there were almost no clues…"

 --The book jacket for In Cold Blood

“You know, my mom read this when she was 19 or 20, and she was so scared that while she was reading it, my granddad—her dad—came home from work, and she wouldn’t let him in the house until he slid his ID under the door.”

--Amanda C., One of our book club members

 And so our conversation began. We discussed why this book, written in the 60s, was scary and sensational then but not now. In Cold Blood certainly has a creepy, No Country for Old Men feel to it, but we certainly wouldn’t feel unsafe reading it alone at night. We concluded that true crime, perhaps an emerging genre in America when Capote wrote this, is now a relative familiarity, even if we don’t read them. Also, we’ve been desensitized to the idea of mass murderers: Ted Bundy, John Wayne Gacy…OJ. It’s like watching Psycho—we experience it because of its importance, not b/c we hope to experience what the original audience felt. And that divide is what makes In Cold Blood a seminal work but not a great book club book.

Our discussion was engaging at certain points, but overall, it was stilted. For example, we talked about the respective psychologies of Perry and Dick. We explored their relationship with each other as well as their individual motivations for the murder. The problem we kept encountering was this: we’re not psychologists. The individual points one of us would try to make and the collective understanding we tried to come to as a group would abruptly halt because we didn’t have the necessary background to delve deeper. It’s like our intellects wanted to run further, but our education (or lack of specialized education) kept cramping our strides.

We decided that this book would make for a good discussion among journalists, psychologists, even 20^th century historians, but not among us: a hodgepodge of teachers, students, and business people. Our talk did veer into the direction of what the book would have focused on had a woman written it. Would a female writer have focused on the same things that Capote did? Would more time have been spent detailing the relationships Dick and Perry had with some of the more tangential characters? Oddly, we spent the most time discussing the difference between male and female writing sensibilities. As always, we tried to make connections with previous books; the only books that really came to mind were the Sherlock Holmes volumes we read in ’06.

Overall, In Cold Blood is an interesting mystery full of colorful, real life characters. It just didn’t make for good discussion fodder. I don’t know how often this nonfiction novel turns up in book club circles, but I’m curious to know how well other groups have dealt with it.

 

 

Myth's Many Visages: Our Discussion of C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces

"The complaint was the answer...I saw well why the gods do not speak to us openly, nor let us answer. Till that word can be dug out of us, why should they hear the babble that we think we mean? How can they meet us face to face till we have faces?"

--C.S. Lewis, Till We Have Faces

First of all, this is Nick substituting for Nancy since she was out of town last Saturday. So any problems with what is written should be directed towards me. 

In our latest get together, we discussed C.S. Lewis' Till We Have Faces, which is a retelling of the Cupid & Psyche story found in Greek mythology. It's one of Lewis' lesser known fictions, and though it's palpable, philosophical, and interesting, you have to keep in mind that the story's rising action, climax, and falling action is more psychological than physical.

One of the first things we talked about, which Ben brought up, is that Lewis' note at the end of the novel where he summarizes the Cupid & Psyche myth is inaccurate. According to Lewis, Cupid kills her 2 sisters, yet Ben--who studied this myth while completing his MA--pointed out that Psyche is responsible for her sister's deaths. We talked about how that error, though not pertinent to Lewis' story per se, does hurt some of his credibility as a writer. I know it ruined Ben's enjoyment of the novel. I've since thought about what we said, and the only explanation I can come up with (other than either Ben or Lewis is wrong) is that, like any good myth, multiple versions of the story possibly exist. Thus Ben and Lewis may be working from different primary sources. I'm curious to see what the rest of you have to add concerning the issue. 

We did talk about the idea of myths being born out of multiple stories when we discussed how Orual's legend as a queen grew b/c of her military conquests along with the mystery surrounding her veiled face. The idea of stories, of histories, being living things that take on different forms over time is something that we haven't really examined in depth before. We hit on the idea briefly when we read The Alchemist and Haroun and the Sea of Stories but not until we talked about how the people viewed Orual and her accomplishments as queen did we spend a substantial amount of time on how we as people craft narratives over time to shape our notion of what we need stories to say. I imagine the theme will present itself in our next book, In Cold Blood. 

Also, another interesting thing that we haven't talked about in several months is the idea of the unreliable narrator (I think we discussed the concept with Vonnegut's Bluebeard as well as with The Autobiography of Malcolm X). Orual is essentially giving us her autobiography. And in so doing, she describes several fantastic scenes that we as readers can either accept as reality or dismiss as the ruminations of a crazy woman. We decided that accepting them makes more sense when you consider that one of the recurring themes in Lewis' writing is that the spiritual world is much more real than the physical one. Also, the book fits together much better if you accept that her encounters with Psyche and others who no longer inhabit this world are real, not concocted. 

We poured into this book from several different angles, and it's hard to re-construct our conversation as well as I'd like. But something else that I personally enjoyed about Lewis and this book in particular is the poeticness of the writing. I mentioned that reading this was like reading poetry except since it's a novel and I've read it before, it didn't require the patience that one needs for most poems. Lewis strings together some very sonorous phrases that I was able to enjoy even more than the story's action. 

Well, that's all I have. Feel free to add to/edit this blog as you see fit. See ya in the comments section!

The Jane Austen Fan Club -- Smyrna Branch

First of all I feel the need to apologize for the delay in posting our latest blog installment. All I can say is that I've been having technical difficulties. I have a love/hate relationship with computers, and this week has been heavy on the hating side. Maybe I'm taking some liberties with the posting title for our most recent read, but I want to say love, hate, or ambivalence last week's meeting to discuss Austen's Pride and Prejudice had great attendance. I hope to see all you back for subsequent books. Also, thanks to all who have read and posted responses to past posts, keep them coming, and keep me truthful. I take notes at our gatherings, but putting it all together here forces me to do some condensing and synthesizing. If I goof, misquote, or misrepresent something, call me on it. Now on to P&P.

One facet of the novel that we spent quite a bit of time discussing was Austen's use of exaggeration in her portrayl of characters and relationships. Some of us may have felt this exaggeration was a bit over the top to the point of being a distraction. Others saw it as Austen's tongue in cheek commentary on the idea of romantic relationships, more of which I'll get into later. Myself, I kept thinking that the novel was just like high school, and as a high school teacher, I feel somewhat qualified in my assessment of high school melodramas. I think what lead me to this conclusion was a mixture of the way romantic relationships are idealized by some characters to the exclusion of practicality, think Mrs. Bennett, Lydia, and even Mr. Collins and the importance of witty banter in the relationship between Elizabeth and Darcy. Now I want to go back to the analysis of Austen's exaggeration as commentary. Bob pointed out that this over the top style is played out with stunning regularity in our modern day romantic comedies, particulary in those movies where the characters seem to intially hate on another but end up falling in love at the end. It struck me as funny how we accept this arrangement somewhat blindly in our films but find it problematic when it shows up in our literature, particularly since Austen had a corner on the market far in advance of the advent of film. I wonder if our dismay comes from the fact we are more critical when we read than when we watch a movie, or if we've become so accustomed to seeing this played out in movies that we have become sort of immune to it. Bob made good case for the novel as a satire of the romance because it's seemingly too perfect. Everything wraps up a bit too neatly in the end, so the question becomes is Austen trying to remind us that real life and love don't always work in this way. Even Lydia, whose reckless behavior could have resulted in lasting shame for her family, is saved, though we are left to wonder about the possibility for true happiness in her somewhat arranged marriage.

Another interesting element of the Elizabeth/Darcy union that was discussed was the fact that their marriage is one of both love and money, whereas other unions in the novel are guided purely by one or the other. Jane's relationship seems to be based purely on love while Charlotte Lucas's marriage is portrayed as almost a business transaction. Mr. and Mrs. Bennett's marriage was based on what amounts to lust, and Lydia's marriage is arranged to prevent dishonor. Is one reason that readers support Elizabeth and Darcy because their marriage serves as an optimistic reminder that one really can have it all when it comes to romantic unions? Or, as someone suggeted, is Austen offering the novel up as a cautionary tale on marriage, which doesn't always have a happy ending like Elizabeth and Darcy's?

An interesting topic Nick introduced was the fact that Austen doesn't rely on descriptions of her characters or scenes to carry the novel. We discussed whether Austen left out the effusive detail prevalent in many other romantic novels because she didn't feel that these descriptions were important, of did she perhaps have an ulterior motive. Is this lack of feeding us information a veiled attempt to engage us as readers more fully in the text as we must visualize these things for ourselves? During this discussion Bob raised the important question, "What can we learn about ourselves and others based upon reactions to literature?". If I can be so bold as to state my own conclusions here, I have learned that we are if nothing else a thinking group. Our discussions never remain at the superficial level where we simply discuss what went on in the book. Instead, we seek to peel away the layers of our onion to uncover possible social commentaries or motives of the author while looking for relevance in today's society.

Another interesting element of the text that we offered up for discussion is the role that money plays in establishing power. The two characters who best exemplify this realtionship between power and money are Darcy and Lady Catherine. Each has enough money and enough social clout to do what they please; yet, they behave in a completely different manner due to this freedom. Lady Catherine uses her money and accompanying social position to put herself into a position of power over the other characters. This is best exemplified in her encounter with Elizabeth in which she orders her to refuse Darcy's advances. The isolated sphere she has constructed around herself through her wealth and power allows her to interact with those outside her realm in what can only be described as a condescending manner, and I'm using our modern day connotation of the word not that used in the novel itself. Darcy, on the other hand, is able to change and undergoes such a transformation while Lady Catherine remains stagnant. Perhaps the greatest evidence of Darcy's ability for change can be seen through his instrumental role in arranging for the marriage between Wickham and Lydia in spite of his distaste for both these characters.

While I am certain I have left out something someone may deem critical in our discussion of the novel, that's where your responses and posts come in. I look forward to reading them, so get to blogging.

Sadism Dostoevsky Style

June's book fell into the classics realm as we explored Fyodor Dostoevsky's Crime and Punishment. In spite of the fact that I've read this book at least three times prior to this reading, it's always a good read, and as we discussed to today, there's always something new that I can get out of a reading. In the past I had read this book in the context of a class, so it was interesting to get a wide variety of perspectives from readers who were reading the text in a different setting. By they way, we welcomed three new visitors who were willing to get down with a little Dostoevsky, and after hearing their responses to what can be a challenging or at the least a dense read, I hope they make our Saturday gatherings a regular event. One of the thematic issues we addressed was that of redemption. As I stated earlier, I had read this book previously for a couple of classes, and as one of them was a Faith in Literature class, the concept of redemption was explored in great detail. The question that we threw around today is "At the end of the novel is Raskolnikov redeemed?". One participant posed the question that since Raskolnikov never actually expresses remorse for having murdered the pawnbroker and her sister, can be actually be redeemed because he doesn't openly repent. This theory brings about a wonderful question for thought, does one have to verbally, and here I use the word verbally to encompass both actual spoken language as well as internal thoughts and perspectives provided by the narrator, profess repentance in order to be redeemed? However, Dostoevsky appears to support the idea of redemption for Rodya as he serves his time in the Siberian prison where he opens the Bible Sonya gives him and reads the story of Lazarus. Lazarus was resurrected from the dead by Jesus, and one could argue that Raskolnikov is resurrected by Sonya and her presence in his life. To a person who has read the text, it isn't a long shot to say that Rodya was dead in the spiritual and emotional sense until Sonya comes into his life, and it is through her tireless perseverance that he is afforded the opportunity to be resurrected and join the world of the living. However, this concept brings about another topic of discussion with regard to Sonya. The question posed was why does she seemingly waste her time on Raskolnikov, who by all accounts is not the most approachable or lovable character?

Sonya herself proves an interesting study when thinking about how to best answer this question. Sonya has been forced into prostitution due to her family's economic hardship. However, she holds her faith close in spite of her fallen status, and it is this faith that leads her to embrace Raskolnikov despite his misanthropic nature. She sees something in him that is worthwhile and worth saving. In the end, it seems that her faith both in God and in Rodya is rewarded as it can be argued that the Raskolnikov we see at the end is not the same one we met in the first chapter. If we're going to talk about faith in this novel, we must further address the fact that Sonya is a prostitute. By society's standards, she is an outcast and and untouchable. In fact, when the Marmeladov family's landlady finds out about Sonya's occupation, she is put out of the house, and she can only visit her family in the dark of night when she can sneak into the house. In the Bible, we find countless examples of Jesus reaching out to those who were relegated the bottom rungs of society, and in fact, these are the people that Jesus often sought out. Therefore, it is ironically fitting that the prostitute is the one who has the greatest faith of all the characters in the book. A personal literary note here, last semester I reread Stephen Crane's Maggie: A Girl of the Streets. When we were discussing the book in class, I couldn't help but draw parallels between Maggie and Sonya. In Maggie, Maggie too is forced into prostitution due to economic need. However, Maggie falls into the fallen woman role that is often found in literature of the time period because she dies at the end. Often the fallen woman dies which can be seen as morality tale of sorts because the woman who deviates from societal norms and expectations cannot be successful and must be punished. However, Sonya, while undoubtedly suffering more than her fair share of trials, does in many ways emerge victorious because she leads Raskolnikov to redemption and a new life, definitely breaking the curse of the fallen woman in literature.

Yet another hotbed of discussion revolves around the idea that various levels of crimes exisit. While numerous characters in the novel commit various and sundry crimes, are some crimes worse that others or is a crime a crime? If one crime is in fact worse than another, how can we determine the continuum of crimes? This also leads into Raskolnikov's initial theory that some people, those he deems extraordinary, are entitled to commit crimes such as the murder of an usurper like the pawnbroker. Is Raskolnikov's theory grounded in a grain of truth? Are extraordinary people afforded liberties that the rest of us are not allowed? Raskolnikov can be seen as committing his crime as a test to determine if in fact he is an extraordinary man. However, since he cannot pull his crime off in the manner he envisioned and in fact is obviously tormented as a result of his act, one would theorize that he is as ordinary and flawed as the rest of society.

These are only a few of the themes and ideas we threw around in our discussion of the amazing literary work. In actuality, there is no way all the themes or questions that this book contains could be covered in a two hour meeting, but I think we covered a commendable amount of ground in our brief time together.

Something to Shout About

Our May book was Rick Bragg's All Over but the Shoutin' because we'd been throwing around the idea of reading a memoir for some months, but we were holding out for just the right memoir. I think that Bragg's story fits the bill perfectly for a number of reasons. First, Bragg devotes a good portion of his story to life in the changing South of the 1960s, and while in 2008 we may not all be able to relate to his family's story, there are certain elements, stereotypical or not, of the South that resonate today. Bragg also explores intense family dynamic issues that are not limited to a particular time or place, and if per chance we haven't experienced these struggles ourselves, we only have to open our doors and look to our own communities to find similar stories of personal hardships and struggles.

In our discussion, we explored a couple of distinct themes both in terms of how they relate to the book and to life today. The first theme was that of the person who leaves home to seek his/her fortune or way in the world. This theme traces back to epic stories in which the hero must leave home and encounter the challenges of the world in order to learn something about himself. Bragg, through what he essentially calls his own dumb luck, embraces this epic theme by leaving rural Alabama for the scenes of his stories that projected him to role of a Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist. We then explored the similarities of this leaving home saga with those found in A Lesson Before Dying, our February book. In this novel, the protagonist, Grant Wiggins, has left the African American "quarter" to gain an education, but he has returned in the role of school master for the children of his community. An point of consideration when comparing these two texts is the idea of hope and who has hope. In A Lesson Before Dying, Grant dreams of leaving "the quarter" but is held back because he knows that the community has pinned all their hopes on him. Bragg, in leaving his corner of the South, leaves behind a family who has also pinned their hopes upon him. Both Grant and Bragg are the ones who have been given the opportunity, through the sacrifices of others, to serve as a representative of their community to a world that deals largely in stereotypes.

Another theme that brought about much discussion was that of religion. There is a reason the South is nicknamed the Bible Belt. Faith and church are still afforded a large measure of attention today, evidenced by the fact that many community and school activities are never scheduled on Wednesdays because that's church night. The question becomes what is it that allows some people to have faith, even those in the most dire of circumstances, while its comforting hand seems to pass over others. Bragg in not so many words poses this question himself when he recounts his experiences with church as a young boy. He states that he sat in the pew week after week and waited for that hand to touch him in the way he saw it touch those around him; yet, it never did. Another similar example is provided in Bragg's recounting a story about his brother Mark. In one of his many attempts to evade the law, he ducked into a church and was so heartily welcomed by the congregation that he kept going for two years. While Bragg never presumes to speak for his brother, the reader cannot help but wonder if Mark, like Bragg, kept going because he was looking for that consuming faith he saw in others. Interestingly, the character with the most unshakable faith of all is arguably the one who has perhaps the greatest right to question a God who allowed such suffering to touch her life, Mrs. Margaret Bragg. Despite the hardships she faced in her life, Bragg paints a touchingly vivid image of her standing in their little house, her hand pressed to the top of the TV, as the televangelist on the screen prayed. Perhaps she, like so many others of various religions and denominations, clung to her faith because it was all she had.

Welcome

A book must be an ice-axe to break the seas frozen inside our soul. ~Franz Kafka

Welcome book club folks! Whether you’ve been with us from the beginning or joined us in recent months, I’d wager a guess that if you’re reading this blog, you can’t think of a better way to spend a Saturday morning than talking about a good book. When Nick invited me to participate two years ago, he stressed the club as a gathering of people who are committed to consistently reading the texts and coming prepared to contribute to the conversation. Over the twenty-four months we’ve been meeting, we’ve read books that we might never have considered otherwise and broadened our horizons through stimulating conversation. At a recent meeting, we discussed some ways that we can be more active in the workings of the club. The idea is that the more we each contribute to the book club experience, the more we’ll get out it. One of the ideas we came up with is this blog. The goal is to provide a venue for us to chronicle our meeting and continue the conversation. It also provides a way to check out what the club’s been up to if you’ve missed a meeting or two. Another great thing about this blog is that everyone should be able to post comments and contribute, so it’s not just me. Think of it as a continuation of our Saturday gatherings. This is my first attempt at blogging, so if anyone has any suggestions or ideas for me, send them my way. However, I hope you are all as excited as I am about blogging on our books. By the way, if any of you are wondering about the title of this blog, I sat staring at a blank box for a good five minutes waiting for something amazing and erudite to come to me. Bucks and Books is what I got instead. The Bucks comes from the fact our official meeting place is the Smyrna Starbucks, and the Books part should be pretty self-explanatory.