Hello Gentle Reader
The Canadian summer already feels like it has already come and gone. Well it does when one thinks of, the fact that the days are now growing shorter and shorter, with the subtraction of four seconds every day. The days grow short. The nights grow long. June was a wet and rather soggy month. Cold and damp. Overcast and grey where the skies of the filtered grey light, which can only be equated to the light of winter. The same filtered cold light of winter. That sterile Siberian feeling to it. But now with July heading in, the sun has come out. The flowers have a chance to bloom. How lovely the site is indeed. My peony has open its blooms. Those lovely nice bright lemon yellow bloomed flowers. Are quite something. The grass of course still desires to be cut once every week or every two weeks weather depending. Not that I have been paying much attention to the lawn, because of my cold that I am suffering from at the moment. That being said Canada Day was still a lovely day. I did not go and see any fireworks. Though instead, I was able to enjoy a bonfire instead. To the American’s I hope you all had a lovely Fourth of July, had a bonfire, saw some fireworks, and ate a hot dog or two.
Last week or the last week or half week of June; or the few days that were left in June I was able to post “The Short Story Review (No. III),” though my dear gentle reader you will notice that there is no introduction to the short story review like there was for the past two. Now this is partly done because of the time crunch that the review had to be done right then and there. My procrastination had made that, the problem. Though of course, sometimes in life, other chores or other aspects of life need to be dealt with first, rather than doing something for fun. June was also a poor month reading wise. With “The Black Book,” by Nobel Laureate in Literature of two thousand and six, there was an empty gap or hole in the bookshelf – or it certainly felt that way. There are still books to read, but it certainly felt like there was nothing to read. I know on a few occasions during the past week, and partly the week before that or so – the past little bit has all but been a bit of a blur. Time had appeared to have no meaning whatsoever. The attempts at reading Iris Murdoch’s “The Black Prince,” and Marcel Proust’s intimidating voluminous novel “In Search of Lost Time Volume 1: Swann’s Way,” also left me feeling both uninterested, bored, and wondering why I was wasting my time.
With the prospect of what I have for books to tread, being nothing more than boring, and a waste of time, and not something that I wish to read, I did some looking for some new authors, and some new books to read. I’ve even included poets in the list. It has been many years since I have had even the slightest inkling of interest in reading some poetry. Personally the uninteresting and frustrating aspects of poetry can be blamed on the way that poetry is taught in schools. The entire anatomy and structure, style, diction, symbolism (which is rather literary risqué) rhyme scheme, metaphors, similes, meter, stanza, and the iambic pentameter. When students are given these odd looking bits of literature. These lines that barely coherent together, and are told dissect the diction. Amputate the rhyme scheme. Place the iambic pentameter under the microscope. So on and so forth, can leave some of the most rotten tastes in people’s mouths about poetry. It wasn’t until the other day that, by chance a poem by titled “The Silence of Plants,” crossed my path on the internet. The Nobel Laureate in Literature of Nineteen-Ninety Six Wisława Szymborska wrote the poem titled “The Silence of Plants.” Listening to the poem on the internet (though the sound effects where not at all particularly enjoyable and often interfered with the words of the poem) there was an epiphany when listening to the words of the poem. This in some way or another interested me into the world of poetry once again. This of course does not mean that by any means necessary that I will run out, and grab some poetry collections, and start reading the poems of Walt Whitman or any other poet that cares to cross your mind my dear gentle reader. That being said thanks to the surface simplicity of Wisława Szymborska, there is a rekindled joy into the world of poetry. There are a few poets on my book list, and seeing as we have come to the conclusion of the poetry part of this blog, then it is time to include those poets’ names. Some of them Dear Gentle Reader, you may have heard of, while others you may not have heard of:
Adam O’ Riordan
Mathew Hittinger
Wisława Szymborska (Nobel Laureate in Literature of Nineteen-Ninety Six)
Adonis (or Adunis)
Tomas Tranströmer (A favourite for the Nobel Prize for Literature)
Ko Un (A favourite for the Nobel Prize for literature)
Philip Larkin (one of the most famous post war poets in England)
Bella Akhmadulina (recently deceased)
Sylvia Plath
Robert Lowell
Of course there are also some other authors, on my book to read list. The more traditional authors are also included in this list. The authors of short stories, and novels. These are the authors that are more preferred to read and review, which is why the reading list was first composed. With the completion of “The Black Book,” by the Nobel Laureate in Literature, there was and still is a period of a gap in the bookshelf. Right now in the current registry of reading is “The Thief and The Dogs,” by Naguib Mahfouz the Nobel Laureate in Literature of nineteen-eighty eight. This is being done reluctantly, for the reason because there was nothing more interesting to read, in the bookshelf. I did not necessarily want to read another Naguib Mahfouz novel for a while yet, because when and if a person reads too much of one author it becomes quite a pain and annoyance to read. The books and the authors loose the lustre. Which can be quite upsetting at times, because the knowledge that the author is a great author, but the contradiction that the words cease to encase and be magical, then it becomes difficult to read. However “The Thief and The Dogs,” is doing alright so far.
The reading list itself includes novelists and short story writers, from all around the world. At least those that have translations and publications in the English language. But there is a series of books called the “Canongate Myth Series,” where authors from all over and all around publish short novels – novellas; where they have re-written ancient myths from myriad cultures. Some of the authors are quite big names authors. Margaret Atwood, wrote the second novella in the series titled “The Penelopiad.” Others writes in the series include the Russian author Victor Pelevin (“The Helmet of Horror,”) the Israeli writer David Grossman (“The Lions Honey,”) the controversial Chinese novelist Su Tong (“Binu and the Great Wall,”) then there is the Croatian born author who has residency in the Netherlands Dubravka Ugrešić (“Baba Yaga Laid an Egg,”) or the controversial novel in the series by the controversial novelist and the pseudo (which by no means is an insult to the author) children’s author Phillip Pullman (“The Good Man Jesus and the Scoundrel Christ.”) Personally I would love to read most of all the novels in this series. However this does prove to be difficult because some of the author’s works have not be translated into English or are no longer, available. Novels like Su Tong’s novel “Binu and the Great Wall,” or the Japanese crime novelist (a comparison could be made – Agatha Christie or Patricia Highsmith?) Natsuo Kirino’s novel “The Myth of Izanagi and Izanami,” both of these novelists novels are out of print or sold out by the main chain book sellers, or are forthcoming. Other novels though have not been translated Milton Hatoum’s novel “Orphans of Eldorado,” also the Polish novelist Olga Tokarckzuk novel “Anna In w grobowcach świata,” or translated as: “Anna In and the Tombs of the World,” both of these novels have yet to be published in the series. The next up and coming book in the series is by a Booker Prize Winning author and a novelist who is usually betted on to win the Nobel Prize for Literature. She first gained public attention or nationwide attention with her win of the Nineteen-Ninety winning of The Booker Prize for her novel “Possession: A Romance.” In two thousand and nine, she was long listed and shortlisted once again for the booker prize for her novel “The Children’s Book.” If your guess my Dear Gentle Reader is A.S. Byatt, then you are correct. She is a prolific writer; and also a postmodernist author also. She has won the booker and is often speculated to be one of top contestants to be a Nobel Laureate in Literature. To add to her repertoire of writings, A.S. Byatt, will soon be publishing a novel in the series of the “Canongate Myth Series.” The novel that will be published in September of two thousand and eleven is titled “The End of the Gods.” Which is said to be about the Norse myth of Ragnarök; which looks to be about the Norse’s take of the end of the world. I think the entire series itself is delightful.
One does certainly need to realize that everything today that is written is most certainly going to be a variation of the myths that have been passed around the world. All the ancient myths of sun gods dying at sunset, or the moon being personified as a gentle and loving tender woman; or the fact that cupid still is running around in a heavily Christianised Western Culture – whose roots come all the way back from Aphrodite (Roman Equivalent Venus) Son Eros. Even the planets and the constellations have stories behind them, or where their names come from. Myths are as much, as part of the culture – be it a new culture mixing in with the older culture’s spiritual beliefs and then called something new (New Age Western idea’s where they think they are original but are just stealing old philosophies and thoughts, and myths and rituals from other cultures such as the East Indians, Native American’s, Buddhism et cetera) the myths of the world, can and still are seen all around us. It would be no surprise if the literature of today is inspired by the myths of the past. Grandiose loves; jealous wives; secret children; devastating wars; and beautiful maidens.
The rest of the reading list consists of these following authors. Some may be duplicated with authors from the “Canongate Myth Series.”
Antonio Tabucchi (A favourite for the Nobel Prize for Literature)
Alberto Moravia
John Le Carre (Finalist for The Man Booker International Prize of 2011)
Andrey Kurkov
Luigi Pirandello (The Nobel Prize for Literature 1933)
James Ellroy (The Demon Dog of American Crime Fiction)
Hans Fallada
David Grossman
Cesare Pavese
Lee Rourke
The days grow shorter by four seconds. Today is four seconds shorter then yesterday. Tomorrow will be four seconds shorter then today. This is the cycle of time itself. It is the cycle of seasons. For now as summer runs its course, the sound of children will no longer be heard playing outside freely. They will be back in school. Autumn will come back. Then so will winter. Just today while I was looking outside, the windshield of the vehicle I was riding in, it certainly felt so odd to see the sun out, the green in the air, the flowers in bloom, the sky blue, the clouds white and puffy but scattered. Winter felt like a long forgotten dream. Snow was all but nothing but melted puddles in my memory. Yet they are still frozen below the surface. Assuring me that even though the time now is great and warm – even brutally hot; winter is approaching, just as fast as it had left. Though still it is hard to imagine this country covered in snow, when there is so much green life all around. The bugs buzzing in the air. The flowers bloomed and opened up wide. It is sometimes amazing to think that, during most of the year, there is a cold chill creeping around the corners. Slowly slithering up the spine. But for now. In these moments, it is nice to enjoy the sunshine.
Thank-you For Reading Gentle Reader
Take Care
And As Always
Stay Well Read
*And Remember: Downloading Books Illegally is Thievery and Wrong.*
M. Mary
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