I noticed the other day that a lot of the books I have read in the last few weeks were written on or around 1895. I wondered idly to myself how many books must have been published in 1895, and how many are now completely forgotten, and lost forever. I then wondered how many were published in 1995, and how many of these would also be forgotten and unread, but preserved forever in digital form.
The 1895 books have been through a winnowing process: the best have been reprinted, re-read, republished, filmed, and, in all the cases I am thinking of, recorded for LibriVox. They have had the opportunity to be forgotten, but enough people remembered them to preserve them, and keep them alive.
Modern works, by contrast, if preserved digitally, will be preserved in amber for future generations. Forever. Without going through the winnowing process. Without any democratic process on the part of the public.
At a rough guess, if I read a book a week for the rest of my life, I will manage another 2,500. There are so many great books in the world, in different languages, from different ages, that there is literally a work of genius for every week of the rest of my life. Why would I want to waste my time reading something that had not been road-tested?
Think of past generations modding-up a book, so that it survives a century, or more. The more mods, the higher up the list the book climbs. Shouldn't we start at the top of the list, and work down?
The Library of Alexandra contained many great, now lost works. Of the ninety plays of Sophocles, only eight or so survive. Would the world be any different if we had all ninety? Should not our best guarantee of the superiority of his surviving plays be that they were copied, and stored at other locations, and the others were not? Is it any surprise that so many books from the classical period are works of genius? They are the survivors.
I realise this is all sacrilege. Perhaps I am worried that future generation will have trouble finding our best work, and think that sit coms are the best we had to offer.
Tuesday, January 30, 2007
Monday, January 29, 2007
Review: What Men Live By and Other Tales by Leo Tolstoy
According to Woody Allen, "Tolstoy is a full meal. Turgenev is a fabulous dessert. Dostoyevsky is a full meal with a vitamin pill and extra wheat germ."
All I had read of Tolstoy in the past was "Childhood", his first work, which I enjoyed (until the very dark and almost throw-away ending), but which did not suggest a main course more weighty than Turgenev. So I approached these four short stories with a light step and a full stomach, expecting, well, a light dessert. This opinion seemed well founded at first: the stories are fables, written in the style of fairy tales, dealing with moral questions. I took these to be religious parables, and the first of these was sentimental enough to lull me into taking it as a straight Christian ethics lesson. The second was, again, well told, but well within the compass of a child.
The third story made me realise that I was dealing with a different man altogether, and made me doubt my smug estimation of the previous two tales. In it, Tolstoy as good as calls all religions equal, in so beautiful and simple a way that it seems utterly obvious. Which is quite a trick. I started wondering why more people hadn't read this, and finally remembered that Tolstoy's religious ideas were an inspiration to Gandhi.
The final tale is the pick of the bunch. "How Much Land Does a Man Need" is suspenseful, funny, exciting, deeply moral, and has a finale that is as dark as, well, a Russian winter.
I was so jolted by this that I was forced to reassess the first half of the book. It seems that Tolstoy's spiritual world is a complex one, and these simple fables, like all good fables, require some meditation and digestion. Like a full meal.
Next: A Princess on Mars by E R Burroughs.
All I had read of Tolstoy in the past was "Childhood", his first work, which I enjoyed (until the very dark and almost throw-away ending), but which did not suggest a main course more weighty than Turgenev. So I approached these four short stories with a light step and a full stomach, expecting, well, a light dessert. This opinion seemed well founded at first: the stories are fables, written in the style of fairy tales, dealing with moral questions. I took these to be religious parables, and the first of these was sentimental enough to lull me into taking it as a straight Christian ethics lesson. The second was, again, well told, but well within the compass of a child.
The third story made me realise that I was dealing with a different man altogether, and made me doubt my smug estimation of the previous two tales. In it, Tolstoy as good as calls all religions equal, in so beautiful and simple a way that it seems utterly obvious. Which is quite a trick. I started wondering why more people hadn't read this, and finally remembered that Tolstoy's religious ideas were an inspiration to Gandhi.
The final tale is the pick of the bunch. "How Much Land Does a Man Need" is suspenseful, funny, exciting, deeply moral, and has a finale that is as dark as, well, a Russian winter.
I was so jolted by this that I was forced to reassess the first half of the book. It seems that Tolstoy's spiritual world is a complex one, and these simple fables, like all good fables, require some meditation and digestion. Like a full meal.
Next: A Princess on Mars by E R Burroughs.
Saturday, January 27, 2007
Review: The Red Badge of Courage by Stephen Crane
I have never read a book quite like this before, which surprises me: I have read some stream-of-conciousness novels in the past, and generally found them confusing and opaque (COUGH-Virginia Woolf-COUGH). However, what impressed me here was its clarity, even in the midst of highly poetic language, and overall the relentless, painful honesty. This is the quality, which, for me, raises the novel to its greatest heights: its ability to accurately read the passing thoughts and impressions of an ordinary man in extraordinary circumstances. I laughed with recognition more than once: how nature can seem indifferent and heartless one minute, and maternal and lovely the next, depending on a passing emotion. All these changes are recorded by the author without comment, judgement or passion.
The other recognition came in its depiction of the relationships between men, and the motivations of men. How men can bicker and brawl, be always on the lookout for weaknesses to exploit even in close friends, but, when the chips are down, how they are capable of great self-sacrifice. Uncomfortably, this book would remind the reader that these self-sacrifices are not often made for the purest of ideological motives: the hero is driven to heroism because he overhears his regiment being labelled 'mule-drivers'.
The novel is ostensibly about war, but like all great works of art, it is really about being a human being, or at least a male human being. Self-justifying and self-decieving, true, but only because to acknowledge the absolute truth of the situation would be too much for anyone to bear. We need to create fictions about our motives, and about out enemies, because otherwise
the total futility of almost any act would be overwhelming. But if we keep throwing those carrots up in front of our own noses, why, we can charge the enemy with nothing but a flag.
Next: What Men Live By and Other Tales by Leo Tolstoy
The other recognition came in its depiction of the relationships between men, and the motivations of men. How men can bicker and brawl, be always on the lookout for weaknesses to exploit even in close friends, but, when the chips are down, how they are capable of great self-sacrifice. Uncomfortably, this book would remind the reader that these self-sacrifices are not often made for the purest of ideological motives: the hero is driven to heroism because he overhears his regiment being labelled 'mule-drivers'.
The novel is ostensibly about war, but like all great works of art, it is really about being a human being, or at least a male human being. Self-justifying and self-decieving, true, but only because to acknowledge the absolute truth of the situation would be too much for anyone to bear. We need to create fictions about our motives, and about out enemies, because otherwise
the total futility of almost any act would be overwhelming. But if we keep throwing those carrots up in front of our own noses, why, we can charge the enemy with nothing but a flag.
Next: What Men Live By and Other Tales by Leo Tolstoy
Tuesday, January 23, 2007
Review: The Invisible Man
H G Wells: Did you know that he invented table-top wargaming?
'The Invisible Man' was a strange book. Another iconic story, but all I had before this was a few scenes from a black and white movie. So I didn't know what to expect, and at first the prose sounded very flat and pedestrian. (Probably a Joseph Conrad hangover) The first third of the novel is frustrating: I grasp the concept of an invisible man easily enough, but have to wait while some comical rustics have humourous adventures discovering the monster in their midst. It is unfair to blame Wells for this, as the first readers needed some coaching, no doubt, but I wanted things to develop more quickly.
I was rewarded from the moment the Invisible Man himself starts to make his confession, so to speak, and Wells is at his best, given a brilliantly thought out description of the experience of being invisible. The delight is in the detail; I never thought, that because his eyelids were transparent, that he would have difficulty sleeping, that he would have to take care after eating, that his undigested food didn't give him away. That he would always be cold and unable to move about in rain or snow.
It is interesting that Wells makes the invisible man an evil sort of chap, even before he was invisible. The recent film (which I have not seen) suggested (I believe) that being invisible would make a person immoral: that without the eyes of the world on us, we would run riot. I was keen to explore this idea in the book, but it is not there: Wells makes him go mad, but he was fairly unstable to begin with.
Would being invisible make us immoral? Would we use the power to spy on loved ones, and steal consumer electronics?
The only thought I had was this: When the internet was young, it seemed like an anonymous sort of place, where your acts were untraceable. So we all started using Napster, proving, to some, the immoral-if-invisible argument. However, for that to have worked, we also all had to have GIVEN AWAY all our music, in order for the system to be populated. A Napster full of thieves would have had no music. Perhaps being invisible makes us altruistic, as long as it's free.
(The two super powers I always hankered after were flight (classic extrovert) and invisibility (classic introvert). What would it mean to have both at once?)
'The Invisible Man' was a strange book. Another iconic story, but all I had before this was a few scenes from a black and white movie. So I didn't know what to expect, and at first the prose sounded very flat and pedestrian. (Probably a Joseph Conrad hangover) The first third of the novel is frustrating: I grasp the concept of an invisible man easily enough, but have to wait while some comical rustics have humourous adventures discovering the monster in their midst. It is unfair to blame Wells for this, as the first readers needed some coaching, no doubt, but I wanted things to develop more quickly.
I was rewarded from the moment the Invisible Man himself starts to make his confession, so to speak, and Wells is at his best, given a brilliantly thought out description of the experience of being invisible. The delight is in the detail; I never thought, that because his eyelids were transparent, that he would have difficulty sleeping, that he would have to take care after eating, that his undigested food didn't give him away. That he would always be cold and unable to move about in rain or snow.
It is interesting that Wells makes the invisible man an evil sort of chap, even before he was invisible. The recent film (which I have not seen) suggested (I believe) that being invisible would make a person immoral: that without the eyes of the world on us, we would run riot. I was keen to explore this idea in the book, but it is not there: Wells makes him go mad, but he was fairly unstable to begin with.
Would being invisible make us immoral? Would we use the power to spy on loved ones, and steal consumer electronics?
The only thought I had was this: When the internet was young, it seemed like an anonymous sort of place, where your acts were untraceable. So we all started using Napster, proving, to some, the immoral-if-invisible argument. However, for that to have worked, we also all had to have GIVEN AWAY all our music, in order for the system to be populated. A Napster full of thieves would have had no music. Perhaps being invisible makes us altruistic, as long as it's free.
(The two super powers I always hankered after were flight (classic extrovert) and invisibility (classic introvert). What would it mean to have both at once?)
Monday, January 22, 2007
Audiobooks versus Books
What are the competing benefits of audiobooks and normal books?
Book advantages
• Can be read quickly.
• Greater choice. (Too much choice?)
• Are not free, but require no further equipment.
• Can be picked up and read easily anywhere.
Book disadvantages
• Can invite over-analysis. (You know - following up on every footnote, needing reference material nearby, such as Atlas and dictionary. Note taking causing a loss of thread in the story)
LibriVox Audiobook advantages
• Your body is free to do what you will while listening to an audiobook. (suggested by kri)
• You are forced to read a book at half the speed you could read it yourself. You can detect rhythms and aural patterns more easily.
• Choice limited, preselected by people who are prepared to go to great lengths to make sure other people hear them, this being a powerful form of recommendation.
• Free. (presuming access to computer and/or iPod and/or pre-burned CDs. So, not utterly free.)
• Force one to allow confusing (but perhaps ultimately unimportant) detail to wash over you, and be forgotten in the bigger picture. This can be very liberating, and very helpful when approaching the 'Classics', which, coincidentally enough, make up the majority of the LibriVox catalogue.
LibriVox Audiobook Disadvantages
• Need some 'quiet time' to be enjoyed. In iPod form, can be risky to listen to in the bath.
• Can be distracting wondering what the weather is like in Oceanside, Cal-If-Or-Nia.
If anyone has their own suggestions, please comment, and I will add them.
Book advantages
• Can be read quickly.
• Greater choice. (Too much choice?)
• Are not free, but require no further equipment.
• Can be picked up and read easily anywhere.
Book disadvantages
• Can invite over-analysis. (You know - following up on every footnote, needing reference material nearby, such as Atlas and dictionary. Note taking causing a loss of thread in the story)
LibriVox Audiobook advantages
• Your body is free to do what you will while listening to an audiobook. (suggested by kri)
• You are forced to read a book at half the speed you could read it yourself. You can detect rhythms and aural patterns more easily.
• Choice limited, preselected by people who are prepared to go to great lengths to make sure other people hear them, this being a powerful form of recommendation.
• Free. (presuming access to computer and/or iPod and/or pre-burned CDs. So, not utterly free.)
• Force one to allow confusing (but perhaps ultimately unimportant) detail to wash over you, and be forgotten in the bigger picture. This can be very liberating, and very helpful when approaching the 'Classics', which, coincidentally enough, make up the majority of the LibriVox catalogue.
LibriVox Audiobook Disadvantages
• Need some 'quiet time' to be enjoyed. In iPod form, can be risky to listen to in the bath.
• Can be distracting wondering what the weather is like in Oceanside, Cal-If-Or-Nia.
If anyone has their own suggestions, please comment, and I will add them.
Saturday, January 20, 2007
Review: Lord Jim by Joseph Conrad
The first thing to say about this book is that it is a work of genius. It is simultaneously a tale of adventure, a masterful display of technique (like a modernist building, the structure is on the outside), and a profound study in human nature. You will notice that I feel it is three novels in one: the author himself seems very taken with the number three.
The book falls naturally into three parts: The first section, with a traditional narrator, a second, which is a verbatim record of a long anecdote given by Conrad's repeated character Marlow (also hero of 'Heart of Darkness' and 'Youth'), and the third, a long letter from Marlow, concluding the tale. Also, Conrad often describes things three times, rising to a crescendo: "This was one of those cases which no solemn deception can palliate, where no man can help; where his very Maker seems to abandon a sinner to his own devices.".
This tendency was the first thing that reminded me of William Faulkner. (For example, from Absalom, Absalom: "...out of the biding and dreamy and victorious dust"). After this initial hint, a torrent of connections struck me. Both authors use the technique of breaking up the chronology of the story. Both use unreliable and untrustworthy second-hand reports, rejecting the concept of an objective 'true' story. In fact, in 'Lord Jim', the hero (in my opinion, a kind of 'anti-Kurtz') is always described as being seen through a mist, or a cloud. Both have the ability to write hypnotic prose, which works like a piece of music: taken word by word, it can make no sense, but taken as a whole, it weaves a rich tapestry.
Conrad is ironic when writing about human behaviour, like the far-travelled and world weary man he was. But, although he accuses the hero of Lord Jim of being 'a romantic', he cannot hide his own romantic nature. This is a wise and thought-provoking book, with themes that will stay with me for a long time.
I was put off Conrad as a young man, as I found the prose dense and unrewarding. I am delighted I was so superficial: I have saved him up until such time as I am better able to understand his world view. I also want to listen to 'Heart of Darkness' all over again.
I know I said I would not be reviewing readers, but for solo recordings I feel I must sometimes make an exception. Stewart Wills manages to make his reading sound like he is not reading at all, but rather is just telling an anecdote, in an ironic and sometimes humourous way. His knowledge of the text seems absolute: this can be a complex book, but his reading always makes it seem natural and accessible. If you know someone who has not yet heard a LibriVox recording, and doubts the value of the project, this may well be the recording to prove him or her wrong.
Next: The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells
The book falls naturally into three parts: The first section, with a traditional narrator, a second, which is a verbatim record of a long anecdote given by Conrad's repeated character Marlow (also hero of 'Heart of Darkness' and 'Youth'), and the third, a long letter from Marlow, concluding the tale. Also, Conrad often describes things three times, rising to a crescendo: "This was one of those cases which no solemn deception can palliate, where no man can help; where his very Maker seems to abandon a sinner to his own devices.".
This tendency was the first thing that reminded me of William Faulkner. (For example, from Absalom, Absalom: "...out of the biding and dreamy and victorious dust"). After this initial hint, a torrent of connections struck me. Both authors use the technique of breaking up the chronology of the story. Both use unreliable and untrustworthy second-hand reports, rejecting the concept of an objective 'true' story. In fact, in 'Lord Jim', the hero (in my opinion, a kind of 'anti-Kurtz') is always described as being seen through a mist, or a cloud. Both have the ability to write hypnotic prose, which works like a piece of music: taken word by word, it can make no sense, but taken as a whole, it weaves a rich tapestry.
Conrad is ironic when writing about human behaviour, like the far-travelled and world weary man he was. But, although he accuses the hero of Lord Jim of being 'a romantic', he cannot hide his own romantic nature. This is a wise and thought-provoking book, with themes that will stay with me for a long time.
I was put off Conrad as a young man, as I found the prose dense and unrewarding. I am delighted I was so superficial: I have saved him up until such time as I am better able to understand his world view. I also want to listen to 'Heart of Darkness' all over again.
I know I said I would not be reviewing readers, but for solo recordings I feel I must sometimes make an exception. Stewart Wills manages to make his reading sound like he is not reading at all, but rather is just telling an anecdote, in an ironic and sometimes humourous way. His knowledge of the text seems absolute: this can be a complex book, but his reading always makes it seem natural and accessible. If you know someone who has not yet heard a LibriVox recording, and doubts the value of the project, this may well be the recording to prove him or her wrong.
Next: The Invisible Man by H. G. Wells
Thursday, January 18, 2007
How you know that you live in a backwater...
When someone on LibriVox posts on the forum, asking how to pronounce the name of your home county. (Yes; county - kind of a British 'state'. Known by Londoners as 'the provinces'. Without a trace of condescension)
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