One of the side effects of going to high school in a fairly crappy school system and then cherry-picking one's way through college requirement classes (and then spending most of one's adult life shamefully reading only trash, nonfiction, and of course the interwebz) is that there are many famous writers one will have never attempted. Now, in my case, I am just fine with never having read any of those famous Russian novelists, James Joyce, Virginia Woolf, or Kerouac, among many many others. I can live out my life in blissful literary ignorance, emphasis on the blissful. But for a while, I have been tempted to want to read some F Scott Fitzgerald, especially Tender is the Night (because of its subject matter, naturally).
My question to you, dear blog readers, is this: will I enjoy this undertaking or will it make me want to stick pointy things into my eyeballs? Advise me before my next trip to the bookstore, por favor.
xoxo
10 comments:
I would recommend Tender is the Night It's only so often someone writes about their wife going nuts. If my high school memory serves me, I really liked this book and Fitzgerald is short and fairly easy to read.
Thanks, Jean! That's exactly what I was hoping to hear.
(But, please, anyone with a dissenting opinion, feel free to weigh in.)
Don't you be talkin' trash about Lowell's own Jack Kerouac! That'd be like dissin' the "Not Every Witch Lives In Salem" T-shirt guy, and you know we can't have that.
I was so compelled to dodge "classic" literature at any and all costs that I took "English Skills" (i.e. grammar and spelling for the kids from shop class) in 11th grade instead of the "recommended" curriculum, which earned me a parent/teacher conference with my guidance counselor and a rigorous lecture on the perils of a life misspent. I recall Gatsby was mercifully short, so if Tender is similar, it'll have at least that going for it. Though, for comedy you can't beat Faulkner, unless it's to read the entries from the annual Faux-Faulkner contest.
I just re-read Poe's tale of tearing out ones recently-deceased beloved's pearly white teeth with a pair of pliers because you can't stand the thought of them mouldering away in the grave along with the rest of her, and I wonder why they just don't write stuff like that anymore. ("Berenice"--it's a keeper).
I think blogger ate my comment. Lemme try again:
Hey, hey, who says I was trash-talking Kerouac? (Um, other than that it takes me four tries to spell his name every time. Fuckin' too many vowels.) I respect his drinking skills.
I was *just* sayin' I could still die happy even if I never read any of his ouevre. :-)
Oh, and speaking of classic literature I wish I *could* have avoided? We all know Andrea's Most Hated Book of All Time, right?
The Scarlet Letter. Which I had to read in high school and again in college. Twice. Proof that god hates me. For reals.
Depends on the classic. I had a fiction professor who was a disciple of Robert Penn Warren who was a disciple of Faulkner.And I read precious little of either.
If the Big One doesn't spoil the plan, I hope to cozen some literate hospice volunteer into reading me the complete works of Faulkner and the selected works of Penn Warren.
(I'm still bitter that only the grad students could go on a bender with the Great Man when he did master's classes at my school: so he only gets selected status.)
Aversion to Hawthorne is, I think, a sign of a matured mind and taste.
PS: be careful what you read in school. When my 7th grade teacher was assigning us kiddie lit, I was doing book reports on Joseph Conrad. he never forgave me and I still hope to piss on his grave.
The complete works of Faulkner, aloud? Planning on staying in hospice a long time, are we? :-)
I'll hover close to miracle remission just long enough to finish. And no speed-reading either: I want a good ol' southern drawl
As it so happens, my friend, the lovely and talented Benevolent L, not only has experience doing reading for the blind (charity work! see why she gets to be "benevolent"?) but *also* has a lovely faux Southern hick accent she busts out when we are goofing around. I'm sure if you were to let me know when they check you into hospice for that long, drawn out, lingering, Faulknerized death experience, I could send her over to start a-reading! :-) :-)
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