I'm pretty sure I've forgotten a couple books, and I definitely did not finish the Koran, but by any count that's just a hair less than a full head of hair less than the 50 I was aiming for, so looks like I'd be on the hook for a $250 donation to a literacy program if I didn't already make said donation to the InsideOut Literary Arts Project in Detroit, Michigan. As far as iO's mission, they:
...place[s] professional writers in schools to conduct creative writing workshops that engage students’ imaginations and introduce them to the pleasure and power of writing.
The residencies consist of 25 weekly sessions, allowing writers to become an integral part of students’ experiences. These year-long in-school residencies bring students together with practicing writers who serve as models of the creative life and help students to take themselves seriously as writers. At the end of the school year the students receive a publication celebrating their work.
So, I'm happy that my illiteracy has helped contribute to someone else's burgeoning hyper-literacy. Go me, or something.
As far as being an abject failure, selah. I didn't think I'd actually read 50 books, though I'm surprised I barely hacked 20. I thought I read much more frequently, but I guess 10 hour Netflix binges really take a bite out of any trips to the public library. That and I could feasibly claim 30 books if you allow me to count all I've read about the Donald Trump histrionics.
As far as my book reports, errrrrr. I've been meaning to catch up on those since August, and since I haven't even written one with all this guilt hanging over me I doubt I'll write another 15 or so now that it's 2016 and I've started this year's challenge, which is to nap three hours every day. Doing pretty well with that one, you'll be glad to know.
In lieu of said book reports I'll instead throw out a few short quips about them. Instead of recommending them or not, you'll just have to read between the very broad lines. In no particular order:
서강한국어 Level 2A - Yes, I've been in Korea for like half my adult life and have only gotten through three books of an extensive Korean course. I've technically finished level 2B as well since that course is subtitled "Korean Wife."
The Year of Living Biblically: One Man's Humble Quest to Live the Bible as Literally as Possible by A.J. Jacobs - I was just going to base these reviews of whatever memories I could access at the moment, but all I remember about this book right now is having had complicated thoughts so have to go fish out my little notebook to remember why I'd never want to hang out with this author ever, ever, and forever, especially if that's how long heaven lasts.
[Gets notebook]
[Reads notes]
[Tries to make sense of notes]
[Can't make sense of notes]
Turns out notes don't supplement memory unless you also note the context of your thoughts. Whatever. I suppose I remember the most important thing, which is the author was either neurotically neurotic or he had a tendency to overdramatize basic moral questions that aren't even questions anymore. I know the type of questions we pose to a higher power don't have yes or no answers, and that we explore possible solutions in the way we live our lives, but I'll just go ahead and say that no, you will definitely not leave a stain on your son's soul if you misinterpret some shitty mitzvah no one's bothered to think about the last 200 years. It didn't matter to you last year, it won't matter to you next year, so why should this year require the faux agony a method actor would consider overkill?
I, Robot by Isaac Asimov - Science fiction, I don't know. While I can get down with taking a scientific premise and building a world around its implications for the distant future, I generally can't stand the way science fictions writers write. "It's the Fritzomatic 5000 with whirly dirly curley cues that go boinka rattle boom whenever you want a cosmically cold ice tea, weeeeee!" I suppose in much the same way I drive a Ford F-750 Phallus, science fiction authors with the imagination to create entire galaxies but lacking the storytelling verve to compose a straightforward story tend to overembellish inconsequential details. This book was definitely better than The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy but I'm still not going to watch the movie.
Endzone: The Rise, Fall, and Return of Michigan Football by John U. Bacon - Basically the story of a guy driving a bus off the edge of a cliff while everyone on that bus is screaming, "WE'RE ABOUT TO DRIVE OFF A CLIFF!" and the driver saying, "Shut up, I'm the driver 'cause I'm the best." Then he drives the bus off the cliff but you've seen Superman so already know how the ending goes:
Things Fall Apart by Chinua Achebe - Legendary story about a man who builds his entire life around one particular version of proto-masculinity only for societal values to completely shift halfway through life, leaving him to wonder what the fuhhhh happened to all these sissy people. Seems apropos of my current situation in Korea and the pop sociological observations I make about the marked difference between the geriatrics who sacrificed their collective livelihoods to lifting Koko out of third world penury and all the plastic surgery their spawn now get during their leisurely hours.
I first read this book back in college and the main takeaway being a class discussion I lead where I pronounced Igbo as it was spelled. My professor corrected me, saying Ee-bo, to which I responded, "No, it's Ig-bo." She said no, Ee-bo, and I again said Ig-bo. This exchange happened two more times before she finally said, fine, it's Ig-bo, can we now continue this sham discussion of yours? I proceeded triumphantly, though I did notice it was spelled "Ibo" in the edition I just read.
Siddhartha by Herman Hesse - Also a reread. The first time I read it I was all, Isn't this just the Buddha story, only in this version the actual Buddha has already been Buddha'd and this guy is just a dude with the exact same name on the exact same path? I didn't quite get why it was considered a masterpiece when it basically just plagiarized the intro to Buddhism you find in any book on comparative religion, but whatever, I learned a few things, mainly that if you're a white guy in Korea and learn a bit of Korean, there's still hope you can break into the entertainment industry by the sole virtue of being a white Korean speaker. I mean, that path's already been blazed, sure, but if Siddhartha the Not Buddha can achieve Buddhahood, then you can get on Korean TV despite the glut of white "talent."
As far as any actual insight I picked up on, I would have to go with bliss being the domain of the entirely privileged. I guess I'd love to sit around thinking myself into heaven or whatever, but I get hungry every 90 minutes, and even if I learn, like many mythical Buddhists do, to conquer my hunger, well it's still cold outside and my fingers are turning black. Some of this world's misery isn't illusory, though the point stands that the values I assign different factors of the Misery Index are completely up to me so perhaps I should just stop complaining. Anyhow, you may be one of those Buddhist types who has withdrawn from the world to be a supplicant, but you're still as much of this world as I am considering I'm the guy who needs to feed you, and I get my food by dealing with all the bullshit this world has on offer.
Please also note, if you read this book, that Siddhartha's path is completely experiential. He doesn't discount teaching, but he ultimately denies it has any benefit for him since theory is pointless if it can't be tested. Makes a lot of pedagogical sense. Makes a lot of hypocritical sense too when you consider half this book is him lecturing his best friend about the truths he's discovered.
I totally just hated on this book but actually really loved it.
Angels and Demons by Dan Brown - Shut up! It was December 28 and I needed to fit one last book in before the year was out. I would talk about all the plot holes right now but the whole book is the defining plot hole of my life.
The Reader by Bernhard Schlink - The normal human part of me didn't like this book, but the frumpy old woman that accounts for 15% of my genetic make up loved it just because it was once part of Oprah's Book Club. The Germans, Nazis, how to process post-war guilt and inter-generational finger pointing, blah blah blah. I wasn't much moved by this story but I was offended at how the adult narrator imposed his mature understanding of the birds and bees onto his 15-year-old self while recounting a romantic and sexual relationship he had at that age. I don't remember exact phrases, and I'm definitely not going to leaf through this travesty right not to find anything representative, but I'm going to go ahead and assume no youngin' approached a sexual fling with a 36-year-old woman as maturely as he did in this book. Then again, I suppose there's no literary purpose for writing "Whooooo, I'm getting down with an older lady," so okay.
Flash Boys: A Wall Street Revolt by Micheal Lewis - Whenever I read something about all the a-holes on Wall Street I begin to rue my academic decisions. Of the four sections on the ACT, the only one I didn't score above 30 was English. On the GRE, I scored 790 on the math portion and significantly less on the English. So here I am right now, napping my life away in Bumblefuck Korea as an English teacher instead of scamming people out of their life savings. But please don't take what I just wrote as a criticism of teaching English. A noble calling, for sure. And I guess I found my wife here. It's just that after finishing this book and feeling all hyped about mathing my way into millions, I opened up my Schwab brokerage account to start wrecking fools out there in the marketplace but noticed a 0 in the place my balance was supposed to be. Please take that as a criticism of teaching English.
The Language Instinct: How the Mind Creates Language by Steven Pinker - Too exhaustive for me to actually remember much of what I read. I do, however, have a whole lot of trivia to sneak into bar chatter so that you'll think I'm smart. Like, did you know irregularities aren't transferred to new compound words if there is no head word? That's why we say sabertooth, not saberteeth. Or that the McGurk effect is where sounds conforms to the shape of the mouth and is why Bad Lip Reading is the only football my wife willingly watches:
And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie - If you haven't noticed, I've been linking all the books to their listings on Amazon. When I searched for this one, previously known as Ten Little Indians before racism was a thing, I noticed most of the reviews were extremely positive, which is funny since I was going to write at least 17 paragraphs about what a shit book this was. Don't get me wrong: I love me some Agatha Christie; but I also haven't read her since I was 11 or 12 so I guess I love me some Agatha Christie in the same way I love climbing trees.
I chose to read this book because (1) it was supposedly one of her masterpieces and (2) I enjoy piecing a good mystery together. (And (3) it was $15 less than any other book in the bookstore.) As far as (2) goes, there was nothing to actually piece together, just everyone mysteriously dying one by one without any clues being left behind other than the murderer (since it's a murder mystery...I hadn't said that...taking my cues from Ms. Christie herself) must be among those not dead yet. And then everyone's suddenly dead so no one's left to point a finger at, but whatever. Even fictional Scotland Yard is all what the fuhhhh about this story about, stop wasting our time; and that's the response Agatha Christie herself wrote into this abortion of a mystery.
So what actually happened? Oh, now there's an epilogue about a letter in a bottle thrown out to sea wherein the murderer outs himself among the 10 and explains how he killed everyone, including himself. Which is asinine. I appreciate a good plot twist, and so does everyone else, but a good plot twist is when the author takes advantage of your mental associations to send you down one path while (s)he was going down an entirely different one altogether, and it's in the course of backtracking where you piece your biases together while considering what a schmuck you are, in a good way. This, however, was just some post hoc bullshiz that doesn't illuminate anything even on a second reading. Don't read this book twice, though. Don't even read it once.
Chronicle of a Death Foretold by Gabriel Garcia Marquez - It's like the author of One Hundred Years of Solitude wrote about the murder of Kitty Genovese. Oh yeah, GGM did write One Hundred Years of Solitude aka you should really read this book.
The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera - I think this is the fourth time I've read this book, two of those times because of the title alone. You can probably guess that one of the primary motifs in this book is the paradox between lightness and weight; namely, that history moves in one direction so every choice you make is severely final. At the same time, as heavy as those decisions are, they're often made so cavalierly, without the call of trumpets and press releases, not to mention does anyone but your mother even know you exist? This paradox can be scaled down to include poor inconsequential country folk and then up to encompass entire nations.
Something similar happens whenever you read Kundera. There's a certain lightness in the storytelling that makes it accessible. You finish each of his books feeling philosophically invigorated for all of five minutes before realizing there's definitely something much deeper that you missed.
If you haven't read this book yet then you're a Grade A dickbag, or at the very least someone I don't want have dinner with. Homie's not big on plot, so be forewarned. He's also not big on remaining an aloof, omniscient narrator. Tends to call timeout and explain the reasoning behind his character's motivations. You may think this removes the onus from the reader to decode meaning, but it actually adds another layer of Hey I totally get that but maybe I don't?
Thinking, Fast and Slow by Daniel Kahneman - This is, literally, the most important book I've ever read, more important than the Bible, more important than the less than 25% of the Koran I've finished, more important than my blog, and definitely more important than any warrants that have ever been issued for my arrest. Basically, if you have any familiarity with cognitive biases then this book will make explicit things you probably already implicitly know, and if I had to distill the entire scope of material into a single lesson it would be to beware the dangers of cognitive ease since that's the reason the dumbest people you know are the quickest to say: "Makes sense to me!"
The foundational premise of this book is that the brain is organized into two separate systems of thought, one instinctual and one deliberate. You can guess which is the more seductive as well as the one that leads to US Presidents spouting all sorts of dumbfunkery about trusting their gut as reason numero uno for bombing Middle Eastern countries that end in Q. Of practical concern is the magical powers you will suddenly develop to identify whenever people make critical errors in their reasoning while simultaneously believing you are resistant to such traps. Makes sense to me.
Anyhow, a passage to counter any doobag who's ever argued something I don't personally agree with:
Subjective confidence in a judgment is not a reasoned evaluation of the probability that this judgment is correct. Confidence is a feeling, which reflects the coherence of the information and the congnitive ease of processing it. It is wise to take admissions of uncertainty seriously, but declarations of high confidence mainly tell you that an individual has constructed a coherent story in his mind, not necessarily that the story is true.
That's also an explanation of why religion is so easy and the reason you shouldn't trust your mom when she claims the lady at the post office is stupid.
Freedom for the Thought That We Hate: A Biography of the First Amendment by Anthony Lewis - About as dry as you'd probably expect. Is why I read nearly all of it during my doodie moments of quiet contemplation. Of particular interest to me wasn't the First Amendment but rather how the understanding of the First Amendment evolved from its adoption until now and how that understanding doesn't quite fit the bullshit narrative of anyone you've ever heard rail on about the Founding Fathers. Just go to Comic Con if you want to dress up as a completely fictional character, right? The Constitution was barely ratified in nearly all the states but just try to give some hobos health insurance and suddenly a bunch of guys on Social Security will show up in period costumes carrying their muskets and blabbering on about tyranny and the Founding Fathers, as if they were some sort of monolithic enterprise who, rather conveniently, agreed with every idea they've ever had. They don't actually know what the Founding Fathers would have said about any of the political issues of the day, but I do: half of them would have parroted the same doobag talking points the Left is still shitting out today, and the other half would have been having secret gay sex with an underage House page.
The main takeaway: Constitutional Originalists are straight dummmmmmm, especially if they're Christian. If you can say the Bible's meaning has evolved with time and culture (since that's the basis for thinking Christianity is more advanced than Islam), then so has the Constitution's. I mean, the Founding Fathers all have nice legs and whatnot, but I'd assign more permanence to God's words than the words of people who wore powdered wigs. Unless Antonin Scalia doesn't mix fibers, that is. If that's the case then please ignore my charges of hypocrisy.
Summary of the 2015 Jeonsa Book Challenge™ - I didn't read as many books as planned but I did lose 5 lbs.
