Category Archives: Library

Redneck dystopia

Finally, someone who despises No Country for Old Men as much as I do, even if he is a Marxist. The book, that is. I haven’t seen the movie, which this review disparages, sideswiping the book at the same time. He even has a followup, since he drew so much flak for the first one. (If I had a regular reading audience of any size, I might have been shelled more myself. But I don’t, so I wasn’t, especially.) Therein, also, he excoriates McCarthy’s Blood Meridian. As it should be. Faux literary pulp, both of them, with violence the only reason for being.

UPDATE: The battle goes on as Scott waits to see if his fav author’s movie wins an Oscar. Which goes to prove (see comments) that Scott is not a true redneck, because a true redneck would not care about the Oscars to being with. Which also proves that rednecks are smarter than a lot of intellectuals think, since not watching the Oscars is the norm now and, indeed, the wave of the future, a rejection of Hollyweird’s BS of which I heartily approve. Meanwhile, the flicker won four, which I do not find a surprise. McCarthy’s meaningless drivel is right up the industry’s nihilistic alley. 

Colonel Lee’s pet rattlesnake

One of the best Civil War books I’ve read is Elizabeth Brown Pryor’s "Reading the Man: A Portrait of Robert E. Lee Through His Private Letters." Still reading, actually. The letters are new, recently found in a bank vault and released to Pryor by his descendents. The Texas chapter, "Odyssey," chronicles in his own words, his time with the Second Cavalry "in the paradise of the Texans" right before the war. Details such as his horse, Bald Eagle; feeding frogs to his pet rattlesnake; and an audience with "Ka tem a se, the head chief of the Southern Comanches" invalided by pleurisy on his buffalo robes, attended by "his wives & suitors," his shield, bow and quiver nearby, as is his war horse, ready to be slain if the Comanche chief dies to carry him to the happy hunting ground. A new Lee. A step down from the Marble Man, but a leap up in humanity.

Afghan burning

Finishing "A Thousand Splendid Suns" got me interested again in Afghanistan, which I admit had fallen off my radar as of late. Just in time to find out that things look bleak. Nothing like the days when the Taliban was in charge, but apparently sliding back in their direction. NATO isn’t owning up to its promises, Canada is getting antsy, the Bush administration is promising a few thousand more Marines. This is supposed to be the Dems favored campaign, well Hilarity’s. Obama, last we heard, wants to retreat everywhere and invade Pakistan. Nowadays, he says nothing. What would McCain do? Shift troops there as they are withdrawn from Iraq? One brigade at a time? At least we know he won’t give up.

Via Soobdujour. 

A Thousand Splendid Suns

It’s a compelling–if truly unsettling–read, this second novel by the Afghani author Kahled Hosseini. His "The Kite Runner" was a bestseller, indeed, probably selling a good many more than the few tens of thousands required to be called a bestseller. In this one, women are the focus rather than children, along with the whole recent (well, almost three decades) tortured history of Afghanistan. It shows quite graphically how awful women can have it in an Islamic country, though here the main villain is practically an atheist. He doesn’t even go to the mosque until the Taliban forces everyone to go, and one of the gentlest characters, with the best intentions for one of the main women characters, is a Muslim preacher. I don’t want to give away too much, but as you slog through the depressing parts, reading on to find out what happens next, take heart for a promising conclusion.

Mr. Raccoon

I was sitting on the patio under the outside light, smoking and reading "A Thousand Splendid Suns" when a raccoon shuffled up to me out of the darkness. I was amazed. He appeared to be the size of a small German shepard. A really big raccoon, in other words, though wearing the usual black mask. But he looked friendly enough. Hungry, perhaps. "Good evening, Mr. Raccoon," I said. I almost expected him to say something polite in response, maybe ask for the time or some leftovers. I would have directed him to the garbage can on the other end of the rancho. Instead, he stopped in his tracks, retreated slowly into the darkness and scurried away. Adios, Mr. Raccoon.

The Werewolf of the Round Table

Reading Mr. B. a bedtime story from a collection of classic tales published a hundred years ago, we encountered the story of Sir Marrok, a knight of King Arthur’s Round Table. But it took until Chapter Three in the story to discover that the Lady Irma mixed a potion to change Sir M. into a werewolf. Whoa. I thought I knew the Arthurian tales, but I somehow missed this one. Mr. B., always attentive to stories about knights and castles, was duly surprised and impressed. He never expected this, either. We do know, however, that the werewolf of the Harry Potter tales was a good guy. So there’s hope.

Barnes and Noble sale

Happy to see Barnes and Noble having a half-price clearance sale because I wanted to buy some classic books for Mr. B. anyway, and thus I saved a bunch of money on unabridged versions of Tom Sawyer, Huckleberry Finn, the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes and the Story of King Arthur and His Knights. They’re all good. I remember them from my own childhood and, of course, actually took a  college course on Mark Twain. So I especially remember Tom Sawyer’s great trick of getting his friends to not only willingly but also happily perform for him the odious task to which he’d been set: i.e., whitewashing a fence.