Why such a long hiatus? It is really hard to say. I suppose I could mutter something about seasonal affective disorder, and hiding in my apartment until the sun came out again. I have been reading, but I’ve been keeping my thoughts to my self I guess; well and sharing them with sundry relatives and friends. The books I’ve finished since my last report are as follows:
Ted Kennedy’s autobiography: True Compass
The Gate House by Nelson DeMille (cheap thrills if you will)
A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby
Currently reading: Saturday by Ian McEwan and The Magus by John Fowles
My first thought is that I absolutely need to step up my reading pace. At this rate, there is no chance that I will get anywhere near close to my goal. I am not even half way there and I have a mere seven months. I feel certain that I will accomplish what I set out to, but I need to get serious. Anyway, enough of this….
One might ask themselves why my fascination with the Kennedy clan runs so deep that I felt compelled to read not one, but two books about the same member of the family [Ted] within a month or so. There are a few lines of thought here. One is that I always like a differing perspective. The story one tells given self reflection is clearly going to differ from an outsider looking in. So, it was obvious to me, after reading Ed Klein’s take on Edward Moore Kennedy, I would need to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. The book was interesting. It was, in essence, a paradox….filled with surprising self-deprecation and yet an inflated sense of ego. Mr. Kennedy demonstrates a deep understanding for his wrong doings and failings as a man and as a husband, and at the same time trumpets his time spent in politics. The most shocking portrayal was that of the sometimes tense relations between Ted and his brothers; the fierce love sometimes trumped by serious sibling rivalry (only exacerbated by the political arena). I was in no way amazed by Ted’s loving description of his parents, as the Kennedy children have never been supporters of negative press about the infamous Joe and Rose Kennedy. I was touched by the outright praise and adoration expressed towards his children and his second wife, Victoria. I was also impressed with his restraint when speaking of his much abused and speculated about first wife, Joan Bennett. My favorite part of the book was the fascinating insight into the world of the Senate and politics; from the candy desk to the troublesome way one secures a seat on sub-committees. Given Ted Kennedy’s connections and background, it is difficult to discern what is commonly held opinions versus standard fact, but a fascinating look-see nonetheless. I found myself just as affected at the end of this novel as I did Mr. Klein’s rendition of Kennedy’s life. Again, whatever one’s opinion of this man and how he lived his life, he was a liberal minded, socially inspired politician who dedicated his life to making life better for the minorities and discriminated against in this great country of ours. His political legacy is a valuable and awe-inspiring one.
Dad passed along ‘The Gate House’ to me one Sunday morning after finishing it. He didn’t promise any life changing literary experiences but said it gave him a good laugh and was a pleasant distraction. No truer words have ever been spoken. The book was pure delight. I find it distasteful when people read a book of this nature and hold it to greater works of literature and just pick it to shreds. A novel like this, in my opinion, is like dessert. It’s a sweet treat to indulge ones love of tabloid like reporting of world events. This book was meant as a sequel to ‘The Gold Coast’; a DeMille bestseller in which Susan Sutter, the wife of [tax] attorney John Sutter, had a whirl wind affair with Frank Bellarosa, a powerful Mafia boss and the Sutters' neighbor on Long Island, NY; ending in Bellarosa’s demise. After divorcing Susan, John sailed the world for three years, then built himself a new life in London. Now John has returned to the small gatehouse that was once part of his ex-wife's family estate, only to find Bellarosa's thug son, Anthony, living next door. In another coincidence, Susan has just reacquired the guest cottage where she and John lived as a married couple. Susan and John soon begin to explore reconciliation, even as they suspect imminent danger. Although the ending is mildly predictable, the one-liners littered throughout the pages of this novel make it a worth while read. I found myself laughing out loud at some of John Sutter’s wry and sarcastic remarks. Ironically, the speed at which he forgave his wife was mildly frustrating to me and thus the way the story unfolds left me wanting at times, but all in all, a decent read. Great book for travel!
I have been a fan of Nick Hornby for as long as I can remember. My love of British authors goes back to my time in London. There is a unique flavor that is found throughout the pages of most British modern-day writing. ‘A Long Way Down’ begins with four characters meeting on the roof of a building to jump off on New Years Eve. That is not entirety accurate as they don’t intentionally meet, but rather end up there, together, by some strange twist of fate. Four desperate individuals—Martin, a disgraced TV personality; Maureen, a middle-aged woman with no life beyond caring for her severely disabled adult son; Jess, a young woman who’s life is overshadowed by the disappearance of her older sister; and JJ, an American rocker whose music career has just ended are bonded together by their utter misery. Although the story line tends towards the ridiculous, as is with Hornby’s typical style, there is a profound sentiment that circles throughout. This is best illustrated with a quote by Jess near the beginning of the story as follows: "When you're sad—like, really sad, Toppers' House sad—you only want to be with other people who are sad." OR…misery loves company. This is such an interesting thought to me because it really resonates with me. At times when things are most difficult, we tend to not want to be around those that are basking in the joy of their happy lives. Though it should give us hope that things will pick up or turnaround, it tends to give us this woe-is-me complex; a feeling that good things only happen to other people. As with many a Horby character, these four are all at once like-able, worthy of compassion and disgraceful and wearisome. I found myself asking why they made the decisions they did, and yet understanding that their actions were not brought on by depravity, but rather a sort of blatant hopelessness. It takes a human sentiment and conflict that is real and relatable and magnifies it with humor and grace. I love that this book, while not happily ever after, has a silver-lining-on-the-cloud sort of joy. All for now...
Ted Kennedy’s autobiography: True Compass
The Gate House by Nelson DeMille (cheap thrills if you will)
A Long Way Down by Nick Hornby
Currently reading: Saturday by Ian McEwan and The Magus by John Fowles
My first thought is that I absolutely need to step up my reading pace. At this rate, there is no chance that I will get anywhere near close to my goal. I am not even half way there and I have a mere seven months. I feel certain that I will accomplish what I set out to, but I need to get serious. Anyway, enough of this….
One might ask themselves why my fascination with the Kennedy clan runs so deep that I felt compelled to read not one, but two books about the same member of the family [Ted] within a month or so. There are a few lines of thought here. One is that I always like a differing perspective. The story one tells given self reflection is clearly going to differ from an outsider looking in. So, it was obvious to me, after reading Ed Klein’s take on Edward Moore Kennedy, I would need to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak. The book was interesting. It was, in essence, a paradox….filled with surprising self-deprecation and yet an inflated sense of ego. Mr. Kennedy demonstrates a deep understanding for his wrong doings and failings as a man and as a husband, and at the same time trumpets his time spent in politics. The most shocking portrayal was that of the sometimes tense relations between Ted and his brothers; the fierce love sometimes trumped by serious sibling rivalry (only exacerbated by the political arena). I was in no way amazed by Ted’s loving description of his parents, as the Kennedy children have never been supporters of negative press about the infamous Joe and Rose Kennedy. I was touched by the outright praise and adoration expressed towards his children and his second wife, Victoria. I was also impressed with his restraint when speaking of his much abused and speculated about first wife, Joan Bennett. My favorite part of the book was the fascinating insight into the world of the Senate and politics; from the candy desk to the troublesome way one secures a seat on sub-committees. Given Ted Kennedy’s connections and background, it is difficult to discern what is commonly held opinions versus standard fact, but a fascinating look-see nonetheless. I found myself just as affected at the end of this novel as I did Mr. Klein’s rendition of Kennedy’s life. Again, whatever one’s opinion of this man and how he lived his life, he was a liberal minded, socially inspired politician who dedicated his life to making life better for the minorities and discriminated against in this great country of ours. His political legacy is a valuable and awe-inspiring one.
Dad passed along ‘The Gate House’ to me one Sunday morning after finishing it. He didn’t promise any life changing literary experiences but said it gave him a good laugh and was a pleasant distraction. No truer words have ever been spoken. The book was pure delight. I find it distasteful when people read a book of this nature and hold it to greater works of literature and just pick it to shreds. A novel like this, in my opinion, is like dessert. It’s a sweet treat to indulge ones love of tabloid like reporting of world events. This book was meant as a sequel to ‘The Gold Coast’; a DeMille bestseller in which Susan Sutter, the wife of [tax] attorney John Sutter, had a whirl wind affair with Frank Bellarosa, a powerful Mafia boss and the Sutters' neighbor on Long Island, NY; ending in Bellarosa’s demise. After divorcing Susan, John sailed the world for three years, then built himself a new life in London. Now John has returned to the small gatehouse that was once part of his ex-wife's family estate, only to find Bellarosa's thug son, Anthony, living next door. In another coincidence, Susan has just reacquired the guest cottage where she and John lived as a married couple. Susan and John soon begin to explore reconciliation, even as they suspect imminent danger. Although the ending is mildly predictable, the one-liners littered throughout the pages of this novel make it a worth while read. I found myself laughing out loud at some of John Sutter’s wry and sarcastic remarks. Ironically, the speed at which he forgave his wife was mildly frustrating to me and thus the way the story unfolds left me wanting at times, but all in all, a decent read. Great book for travel!
I have been a fan of Nick Hornby for as long as I can remember. My love of British authors goes back to my time in London. There is a unique flavor that is found throughout the pages of most British modern-day writing. ‘A Long Way Down’ begins with four characters meeting on the roof of a building to jump off on New Years Eve. That is not entirety accurate as they don’t intentionally meet, but rather end up there, together, by some strange twist of fate. Four desperate individuals—Martin, a disgraced TV personality; Maureen, a middle-aged woman with no life beyond caring for her severely disabled adult son; Jess, a young woman who’s life is overshadowed by the disappearance of her older sister; and JJ, an American rocker whose music career has just ended are bonded together by their utter misery. Although the story line tends towards the ridiculous, as is with Hornby’s typical style, there is a profound sentiment that circles throughout. This is best illustrated with a quote by Jess near the beginning of the story as follows: "When you're sad—like, really sad, Toppers' House sad—you only want to be with other people who are sad." OR…misery loves company. This is such an interesting thought to me because it really resonates with me. At times when things are most difficult, we tend to not want to be around those that are basking in the joy of their happy lives. Though it should give us hope that things will pick up or turnaround, it tends to give us this woe-is-me complex; a feeling that good things only happen to other people. As with many a Horby character, these four are all at once like-able, worthy of compassion and disgraceful and wearisome. I found myself asking why they made the decisions they did, and yet understanding that their actions were not brought on by depravity, but rather a sort of blatant hopelessness. It takes a human sentiment and conflict that is real and relatable and magnifies it with humor and grace. I love that this book, while not happily ever after, has a silver-lining-on-the-cloud sort of joy. All for now...
