I was a little disappointed in Tiempos Recios (translated Tough Times). It felt disjointed as well as a rehash of Mario Vargas Llosa's novel La Fiesta del Chivo. Tiempos Recios is MVL's critique of the U.S. involvement in Guatemalan politics in the 1950s and 1960. That critique did come out somewhat muddled. The suffering and the chaos in Guatemala did not shine through very well. MVL chose to focus the narrative on two characters, Johnny Abbes Garcia, the Dominican assassin, and Marta Borrero Parra, the lover of dictator Carlos Castillo Armas. Although these two are key to a major event in Guatemala, Johnny and Marta do not seem to have much to do with the story of Guatemala as a country or with the effects of the U.S.' intervention on behalf of the United Fruit Company during this period.
The Iliad still has a lot to say to us no matter how far humans have evolved over the last three millennia. That even a handful of literary treasures like the Iliad still exist is a stroke of good fortune. As with other classics, I read the Iliad accompanied by Melvyn Bragg and his guests on BBC's In Our Time radio show as well as Doug Metzger's Literature and History podcast. Unless you're already a humanities scholar, I recommend supplementing your reading with these resources. Reading a dry commentary alongside the Iliad is fine if you're into that sort of thing. If you're like me and have almost zero context on Greco-Roman history, then In Our Time and Literature and History are both welcome guides.
Set in the ancient Mediterranean, a confederate Greek army assembled itself on the shores near the city of Troy. The Greeks invaded this foreign land to avenge the kidnapping of Lord Menelaus' wife Helen by handsome Paris. It is nine years into the siege of Troy with no end in sight. To add to the drama, the gods picked sides with Hera and Athena favoring the Greeks and Apollo and Ares favoring the Trojans. Why? Well, Hera and Athena detested the Trojans because Paris chose Aphrodite as the most beautiful goddess during a contest.
For his reward, Aphrodite allowed Paris to steal Helen the most beautiful human. Hell hath no fury like a goddess scorned, right? What turns the tide of the war in the Iliad is Achilles, the Greek champion and demi-god. His pride hurt in Chapter One, Achilles refuses to fight which allows the Trojans to push the Greeks all the way back to their ships. Only when Achilles' best friend dies on the battlefield does he take up arms and go on a killing rampage felling, Hector, the august Trojan defender, setting the stage for an eventual Greek victory.
This poem describes an endless blood-bath with the tides turning based on which gods have Zeus' favor at the time. The Iliad lays bare the horror and degradation of war with no real winners in the conflict. Showing humanity's darkness throughout the poem, it ends with a brief glimpse of our better selves when Hector's father, King Priam, petitions Achilles for the body so they can give Hector a funeral. Achilles realizes that rageful violence cannot console him over the loss of his dear friend and that Priam will never recover from his own grief over Hector. But, Achilles recognizes the opportunity to grant this old man a small bit of solace. War has only sad and hopeless endings but even still, a slim ray of hope remains. It's too late for the Greeks and the Trojans but not for us.
The Epic of Gilgamesh is old; it's ancient-old. As far as I can tell this Babylonian poem is the oldest epic literary masterpiece we still have today. The process of creating The Epic of Gilgamesh began around 2000 BCE which would make this work older than the Iliad, the Odyssey, and much older than the Book of Genesis. Like an internet meme that passed through countless hands morphing over time, no single person produced The Epic of Gilgamesh, per se. The story borrowed and synthesized material from nearby Sumerian sources. Archaeological digs in Iraq, Syria, Israel, and Turkey uncovered the fragments of tables used to knit together the poem we have today.
All the context aside, and fascinating on its own merits, The Epic of Gilgamesh is a deep work that speaks to the universal human experience. The themes addressed in the poem such as love, suffering, friendship, transformation, and mortality still speak to us today. Gilgamesh, the hero, begins the story as a powerful but undisciplined ruler. He grows into a reflective man who realizes that he cannot escape death. Along Gilgamesh's journey, we meet monsters, gods, visit the underworld, and go to the end of the earth, typical fare for an epic. In fewer than one hundred pages the reader can trace our world's literary heritage as far back as we can go. The Epic of Gilgamesh is well worth that investment of time.
(My struggle with My Struggle. Many years, thousands of pages)
Why did I invest over one hundred and fifty hours into reading Knausgaard's six-volume, 3,600 page, literary memoir? That represents seventy-five movies or fifteen seasons of shows like Game of Thrones, Suits, or Billions. All that time given up to instead read about the life of a middle-aged Norwegian writer. Again. Why?
My Struggle is not a page turning spy novel nor a edge-of-your-seat murder mystery. Nothing happens to Knausgaard that is not already experienced by most people in this world. He grows up, deals with difficult family members, works, loves, raises children, etc. Everything that makes this work mesmerizing is below the surface of human life. Knausgaard dives down deep and surfaces all the thoughts, emotions, and the experience of a modern man trying to create art.
This is the struggle of My Struggle and it is brilliant. Knausgaard wants to write, to create. His challenge in his youth is not knowing how to do it, how to arrange himself and his life. Young Knausgaard has to deal with all the competing impulses and temptations, but older Knausgaard has a different struggle. He holds writing as a sacred activity done only in lighthouse cottages or wooden cabins in silent solitude.
Book Six is a massive 1,200 pages, a third of the My Struggle total page count. There are two distinct pieces in it. The first is a 400 page essay dropped into the middle of the narrative about Hitler's Mein Kampf and his rise to power in Germany. I still do not know what to say about Knausgaard's exegesis of Hitler's memoir except that the Norwegian author is not a Nazi sympathizer.
The other eight hundred pages of Book Six is Knausgaard's reflection on the publication of the first few volumes of My Struggle, their impact on his family, and the purpose of the entire project. It is a strange narrative recursion but fascinating nonetheless. Knausgaard's central insight is that his life, his responsibilities, and his duties, are not suppressants to his creative life. They are its ignitions. The quotidian and the boundaries it forms allow him to create.
There is always a tension in the waking hours of the day to care for his children and his wife, pay bills, shop, clean, cook, and to write. Yet, without boundless time he cannot sit in the idyllic cabin all day looking for the perfect verb or turn of phrase. Knausgaard, the writer, has to create and put words down during his limited writing window or the time disappears forever. Knausgaard realizes that when he makes writing sacrilegious when he drains the mystique and power out of the idea of writing, he produces. The struggle is never over, never won. But, the struggle is the catalyst for animating his creative ideas. Powerful writing! I'll never read anything like My Struggle again.
"You will be investigating thieves, misers, bullies. The most detestable collection of people that you will ever meet - my family."
-The Girl With The Dragon Tattoo
This quote often came to my mind while I gave the Book of Genesis a close reading. I found many of the important characters despicable and vile. After reading the Book of Genesis I had fundamental questions about the Judeo-Christian faith. Why do we hold the Book of Genesis in such esteem when in story after story we see defiance (Adam and Eve), murder (Cain), deceit (Jacob), lies (Joseph sold into slavery by his brothers), rape (Sodom and Gomorrah), and more? Who remembers Genesis as being so dark and full of evil?
The only reconciliation I see is that the fathers of the faith were hanging their hopes on God. Time and again, God refused to abandon his wicked creation and instead offers them salvation. It is not the case that many of these forefathers are ethical exemplars, although many of them, like Issac, Abraham, and Joseph, are faithful and devout. These characters are fulfilling God's plan for the human race and Genesis is the record of the beginning of this relationship.
If you look back into anyone's family you will find a mix of heroes and villains as well as relations, both decent and despicable. None of us arrived without a history. We are part of a story and each story has a beginning, a mythology about our origins. The Book of Genesis is the origin story of the Judeo-Christian family and for that reason it remains indispensable.
To be honest, I didn't care for The Little Prince. I understand why people might enjoy it, bu I do not see why they venerate it. The writing is somewhat elliptical. This couples it to the fantastical story in a nice way creating a sense of mystique. Still, it is not an impenetrable book. And it is obvious that Saint-Exupery adores children, full of wonder and awe, who see the world fresh. At less than one hundred pages, with beautiful watercolor illustrations, The Little Prince is a small commitment.
There are many reasons to recommend this story. It's my fault that I cannot. There was nothing wrong with it, yet it did not seem to measure up to the near-universal applause and acclaim heaped upon it by critics and reviewers. For example, Maria Popova of Brain Pickings, whom I respect, adores The Little Prince and its author, Saint-Exupéry. And Maria's literary tastes are far more sophisticated and thoughtful than mine.
Anaïs Nin's famous quote, "We don't see things as they are; we see them as we are", has a corollary for reading. Our life and our reading history shape the way we experience the next book. One story hits a person like a line-drive baseball smacks a short-stop's glove. But, like an outfielder losing a pop-up fly ball in the sun, the same story may not connect with the next person.
My case in point is The Catcher in the Rye. Reading it as a teenager, I found no higher truth than Sallinger's angst and discontent; the "phonies"..ha, it all resonated with me. Circling back to it as an almost thirty-year old adult, I found it unreadable. Tough-guy Holden Caulfield became a sniveling cry-baby. What happened?
Obviously, I happened. I experienced a modicum of responsibility and life. Holden Caulfield didn't change. I changed. And my life, of course, affected how I read the book and how I processed The Catcher in the Rye. Was this why The Little Prince didn't speak to me? Did I change to the extent that I couldn't experience this classic in the way others do? I'll never know the difference as I did not read this work as a child, unfortunately. However, I haven't given up on Saint-Exupéry as I'm exploring his other works now.
As I've aged, I've learned to appreciate nutritious food. Mostly, I crave vitamins and minerals, protein, and keep-me-alive nutrients more than instant gratification foods. But, still, good food doesn't always (usually) taste good. While sugar bombs like doughnuts and candy bars light up the taste buds momentarily, afterwards they leave me listless and depleted. Think of the syrupy TED talk with ten million views; exhilarating at the time but forgotten by the morning.
While I do mostly eat well, some nutritious food doesn't taste good. Kale? I've tried it. Cauliflower? Maybe if it's drenched in cheese. In an intellectual sense, that's John Rawls' Theory of Justice for me. I've tried to read it, and I know I'd be better off if I did, but I couldn't chew or swallow.
But, once in a while, I taste roasted seasoned vegetables or flavorful, intense salads. These are super-foods which are both interesting and healthy. John McPhee's Draft No.4, his collection of essays on the craft of writing, is a super-food. Skip the spoonful of sugar. McPhee's medicine needs no chaser.
Reading this book is like taking a class from an absolute master. McPhee's writing is brilliant, and he is a great teacher as well. Pulling examples from his five decades of writing experience, McPhee illustrates points about revisions, structure, and the entire process. It was pure joy engaging the ways McPhee goes to the limits of language and composition to present his ideas. If you're in a rush and need to get to the point or need a style guide, this isn't the book. But, if you have the patience to allow this master craftsman to guide you on a writing journey, you'll be grateful for Draft No.4.
