Thought I'd put out a list of books I've read over the last few weeks while you were watching TV and shopping at Walmart.
Starting from most pretentious:
To Begin Where I Am: Selected Essays by Czeslaw Milosz. Sort of reminded me of the Koestler book of essays. Like Koestler, he was also a refugee from the Nazi parts of Europe. He wrote a lot about homesickness, intellectuals, and the years running up to World War II. His writing is rather understated. I preferred the directness of Koestler.
Cryptonomicon by Neal Stephenson. Wow. One of the best books I've read in a long time. Wonderfully discursive, original, funny, with interesting characters not straight out of the pantheon of moody, narcissistic, bitter post modern types who populate much of contemporary fiction. The fact that it didn't have any well developed women characters did not bother me. I write this because this fact was mentioned as a detraction in many Amazon reviews. But the book is about a bunch of guys! I wouldn't have appreciated the wedging in of a fully developed woman character just to fulfill some people's a priori fictional check list. I crave a true creation from an author, not a politically correct template where the writer fills in some blanks. Blech.
The Dog Who Bit A Policeman by Stuart M. Kaminsky. This is another of his Inspector Porfiry Rostnikov books. Besides being good police procedurals, the setting of this series is Moscow, which is fun for me as I'm living in Moscow. Plus, the author writes sympathetically about the police in Moscow. Kaminsky's characters are hard working, competent human beings trying hard to navigate the "new" Russia and solve their cases. His portrayal of the police here is rather refreshing from what one mostly hears about them.
The Charm School by Nelson Demille. Since this novel is about an American embassy military attache in Moscow back during the Cold War, I thought it might be fun. It wasn't bad as far as these plot driven books go. I don't enjoy that kind of escapism much. It's not that I'm a snob. After all, I've got the visual-media tastes of a precocious 14 year old with bad acne (Yes, Dr. Who is the penultimate culmination of television entertainment. Ditto for BattleStar Galactica). It's because I read so fast that books that are mostly action and plot read like the back of a cereal box for me.
I read some English Reformation-era mystery which I did not enjoy -- today's sensibilities in the 1600s. I can't even remember the title of the book or the author. Then, to clear my palate after that mediocre read, I read several Father Brown mysteries by Chesterton. Much better written, though a bit heavy in the psychological analysis. I blame William James.
I read some English Reformation-era mystery which I did not enjoy
Posted by: Louboutin Shoes | 09/16/2012 at 11:21 PM