2010 Reading So Far...

1. The Greatest Day in History by Nicholas Best
2. Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh
3. Black Mischief by Evelyn Waugh
4. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carre
5. Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
6. The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman
7. Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell
8. Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler
9. The Plague by Albert Camus
10. On the Road by Jack Kerouac
11. Who's Afraid of Virginia Woolf by Edward Albee
12. The Strangest Man by Graham Farmelo
13. Claudius the God by Robert Graves
14. The 42nd Parallel by John Dos Passos
15. 1919 by John Dos Passos
16. The Big Money by John Dos Passos
17. Less than Zero by Bret Easton Ellis
18. The Loved One by Evelyn Waugh
19. Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos
20. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller
21. The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold by Evelyn Waugh
22. The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford
23. The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
24. The Stranger by Albert Camus
25. The Revolt of the Masses by Jose Ortega y Gasset
26. Empire by Niall Ferguson
27. Bright Young People by D.J. Taylor
28. Hopes and Prospects by Noam Chomsky
29. The One Percent Doctrine by Ron Susskind
30. Colossus by Niall Ferguson
31. The Israel Lobby by John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt

Summer Reading

1. The Strangest Man by Graham Farmelo
2. Claudius the God by Robert Graves
3. The 42nd Parallel by John Dos Passos
4. 1919 by John Dos Passos
5. The Big Money by John Dos Passos
6. Less than Zero by Brett Easton Ellis
7. Manhattan Transfer by John Dos Passos
8. The Loved Ones by Evelyn Waugh
9. Catch-22 by Joseph Heller.
10. The Ordeal of Gilbert Pinfold by Evelyn Waugh
11. The Good Soldier by Ford Maddox Ford
12. The Naked and the Dead by Norman Mailer
13. The Kite Runner by Khaled Hosseini
14. The Stranger by Albert Camus
15. The Revolt of the Masses by Jose Ortega y Gasset
16. Empire by Niall Ferguson
17. Bright Young People by D.J. Taylor
18. Hopes and Prospects by Noam Chomsky
19. The One Percent Doctrine by Ron Suskind
21. Colossus by Niall Ferguson
22. The Israel Lobby by John Mearsheimer and Stephen Walt
23. The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald
24. The Perks of Being a Wallflower.

2010 Reading so far...

1. The Greatest Day in History by Nicholas Best
2. Decline and Fall by Evelyn Waugh
3. Black Mischief by Evelyn Waugh
4. The Spy Who Came in from the Cold by John le Carre
5. Scoop by Evelyn Waugh
6. The Guns of August by Barbara Tuchman
7. Homage to Catalonia by George Orwell
8. Darkness at Noon by Arthur Koestler

An Update on 2009 Reading

1. Tender Is the Night by F. Scott Fitzgerald
2. The God Delusion by Richard Dawkins
3. Physics of the Impossible by Michio Kaku
4. False Economy by Alan Beattie
5. Hyperspace by Michio Kaku
6. Brideshead Revisited by Evelyn Waugh
7. This Side of Paradise by F. Scott Fitzgerald
8. I, Claudius by Robert Graves
9. Brave New World by Aldous Huxley
10. Vile Bodies by Evelyn Waugh
11. The Love of the Last Tycoon by F. Scott Fitzgerald
12. Shutter Island by Dennis Lehane
13. The Catcher in the Rye by J.D. Salinger
14. A Handful of Dust by Evelyn Waugh

A Review I Wrote Some Time Ago.

The fact that Scott McClellan's book provides us with few of the "juicy details" of the intricacies and secrecy of the Bush White House is evidence of how in the dark the Press Secretary was kept at times. Having read the news reports about current and former Bush White House personnel being upset over the publication, I was at a loss to specifically identify which parts they so objected to. McClellan's book is far from an excoriation of the Bush Administration; McClellan consistently maintains an disposition of fondness for Bush, despite McClellan's disappointment over Bush's failure to live up to his original 2000 Election claims of overcoming "hyperpartisanship."

After completing McClellan's account, I end up regarding the book as an expression of disappointment and frustration, not bitter resentment. While I can readily fathom McClellan's irritation over being put in a difficult position of defending individuals despite their latently blatant lies, I do not conclude my reading with terrible degree of sympathy for his "plight." I discern a sense of naiveness with regard to the Washington political sphere as McClellan early on in the novel states his high hopes for an end to the "permanent campaign." Additionally, one must raise the question as to the actual veracity of McClellan's role in the mechanics of the Bush White House. Was he as innocent a figure as he presents himself? It will be interesting to see if another Bush Administration member publishes a novel that provides a sharply divergent account of "What Happened."

Despite these objections that I tend to have towards any single-person account, McClellan's book is a worthwhile read. While in the end the reader may not feel the book has entirely satisfied the claim made by the title, any insight into the opaque administration is welcome.

Does my life have meaning? Have I made something out of my existence? These are some of the existential questions that the man who told us Paradise is lost and subsequently told it is regained, asked himself as his life’s work became suddenly jeopardized by ill health. In “When I Consider How My Light Is Spent,” famed 17th century poet John Milton explores the religious complications that ensue when one believes him/herself unable to serve. Through this poetry, Milton, a Puritan himself, examines and critiques the accepted Puritan notion that salvation is solely the reward of “hard work.”
The form Milton employs as a vehicle to convey his assertions is the Petrarchan/Italian sonnet popular at the time. This style of sonnet is characterized by its division into an eight-line octave and a six-line sestet—a division marked by the volta, a change in tone or the author’s attitude towards the subject at hand. Milton’s diction is of note because it is somewhat reminiscent of religious discourse (i.e. a preacher’s sermon). Such a connection does not seem unreasonable considering Milton was a well-versed in theology and a practitioner of religious discourse himself.
Regarding the identity of the speaker, it is not hard to associate it with Milton himself, when Milton’s personal history is factored in. The “light” referred to in both the title and the repetitive first line can be read as an individual’s available time to do work, whatever said work may be. More specifically, contextualizing this time to do work with regards to Milton, the light spent is his career as a poet and in general, a writer. Eyes are merely an organic optical device that reflect light for neural processing, thus an individual with failing eyesight has his/her light drastically limited. The second line, “Ere half my days, in this dark world and wide” supports the assumption that Milton himself is the speaker was blind for half of his life after completing his studies at Cambridge.
If we are to assume that Milton is the speaker of the poem, then he conveys a deep sense of anxiety over his future. The future of his “one talent,” his superior poetic ability, is rendered uncertain by the exhaustion of his light, causing him to feel as though this talent is “log’d with [him] useless.” The word talent—and the ensuing lines through “My true account”—is significant because it not only refers to Milton’s literal talent but also is a biblical allusion to the Parable of the Talents—a didactic tale that has been interpreted to mean responsibly carrying out one’s duties results in future blessings—“For to everyone who has will be given, and he will have abundance, but from him who doesn’t have, even that which he has will be taken away.” The speaker frantically imagines himself as the “wicked and lazy” servant of the parable who hid the one talent, an ancient measure of currency, his Master gave him instead of growing it into more talents when he states, “my soul more bent to serve therewith my Maker…lest he returning chide.” The line “the one talent which is death to hide” not only alludes to the Master’s throwing out the servant who hid his one talent but also refers to the speaker’s spiritual death; hiding one’s talent, in the case of Milton his literary genius, whether involuntarily or voluntarily, theologically damns an individual. The speaker’s words express his immense dissatisfaction with his inability to correlate his actions with his intentions. Unfortunately for him, his Master happens to be the Supreme Being, leaving the speaker to pose a singular question: “Doth God exact labour, light-denied?”
The poem takes a turn, a characteristic element of the Petrarchan sonnet, however, after the speaker silently poses his ultimate question for the personification Patience interrupts to “prevent that murmur.” Firstly, though, consider the speaker’s statement. Reading the word exact as to require, the speaker asks whether God requires work from those unable to provide it—the speaker’s ultimate fear. But the speaker does not ask this question; the deity of patience stops him. Why? To be blunt, he asked a stupid question; the speaker admits that fact through his use of the word “fondly,” which means foolishly in this context. Milton uses the personification of patience as an instrument of exposition, to convey a theological message. The understanding that only the hardest-working are truly serving God is a fallacy for not only “who best / Bear his mild yoke” serve him best, but also “thousands at his bidding…also serve who only stand and wait.” Thus, those who only stand and wait, as an obedient servant would do, are no less worthy than those who actively serve. The last line of the poem provides reassuring comfort for the speaker because his being “light-denied” will not be the end of him.
Milton’s fears must not have been too colossal for he wrote his, arguably, greatest works, Paradise Lost and Paradise Regained, after he had become completely blind. Is the association between Milton and the speaker misleading? Or is the poem merely a transient expression of Milton’s apprehension? Even if Milton did not intend for himself to be the speaker, his personal experiences nevertheless permeate this description of a general human concern. The fear of unfaithful execution of service is not misplaced when it comes to one’s Maker.

I settled upon reading F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender Is the Night for this novel assignment primarily out of my liking of The Great Gatsby. While Tender Is the Night failed to supplant The Great Gatsby as my favorite Fitzgerald book that I have read, it nevertheless piqued my interest in terms of its depiction of American expatriate life, something I was exposed to in Hemmingway’s The Sun Also Rises. Also, the Jazz Age is high on my list of “Historical Periods of Interest” and a glance at its back cover indicated the novel would correspond to this interest.

My initial thoughts after completing of Fitzgerald’s work were somewhat mixed. I had difficulty enjoying the significant dedication towards exposing Dick and Nicole’s initial contact and the development of their relationship: it was rather dull and unconvincing in the sense that it seems very unrealistic. Yet, the novel did present an intriguing dynamic in terms of its consideration of a relationship between a mental-health professional and his patient. Fitzgerald’s analysis of the questions of the stability of such a relationship and the existence of a mutual benefit stood out for me because I had never really thought about such an interpersonal relationship.

As of now, I have yet to be resolved as to which particular element of Tender Is the Night I wish examine in depth. My present inclinations are towards the blurred husband-doctor dichotomy I interpreted as being present in the novel. Additionally, I am quite interested in exploring the potential of a zero-sum relationship between Dick and Nicole as Dick’s world descends into chaos as Nicole’s opens up