The Myth of Sysiphus, Albert Camus. He made his point well by writing a completely absurd book.
2001, Arthur C. Clarke. Have I reviewed the movie for this yet? Well, I'm glad I read the book first, although I'm not sure how much order matters since both were incredibly good. All I have to say is this book was FUCKED UP! Sorry, no analysis.
The Souls of Black Folk, W.E.B. DuBois. White people bad. Black people good. No, I actually really liked one passage in the book about the conflicts that black people face in trying to assimilate themselves into an egalitarian society. It's the same problem as women, Jews, so on. While you can perform any task as well as the rest of society, you can have a job, a family, and pretty much fit in, there is still a part of you that is inherently different. Take African-American culture, for instance. It's different. Stop being so PC and realize this. Take a stroll into Harlem. Different ways of speaking, different music, different kinds of families. Take the Huxtables for instance. Even they had African art on their walls. How does one reconcile that? Interesting...
The Souls of White Folk, W.E.B. DuBois. White people very, very bad.
Less Than Zero, Brett Easton Ellis. By the author of American Psycho. The memory is short, and I had forgotten just how offensive American Psycho was. And for a while, I was skeptical of this book as well. I didn't think it was well written, and for a while I thought it was about people just doing drugs. But by the end of the book, I'd been sick, shocked, and offended. I can't tell whether the book really was good--it was striking at the very least. It follows the Christmas vacation of Clay, in Los Angeles, as he watches his friends quickly descend into a state that's, well, less than zero. Another one of those books where the pursuit of pleasure ultimately destroys you. Worth a read. ***1/2
Goblins, Charles Grant. This really isn't worth reviewing. One year my stepmother mistakenly gave me a few books based on the X-Files series and I never read them. I decided I should go ahead and read them because they were already on my bookshelf and it was dumb to have such simplistic books unread. Something like that. Maybe my brain was fried after Moby Dick. Anyway, I never thought this possible, but the writing sucked so much, the book was hard to read. My brain breathed a sigh of relief when I picked up To Kill a Mockingbird. *
Grounding for the Metaphysics of Morals, Emmanuel Kant. Kant's harsh, sure, but shouldn't we all try to be a little less hypocritical in our actions. Why not a universal moral law? Why not autonomy? What's so wrong about always being moral? Now, his ideas of morality and how it's determined turned me off a little, but maybe that's something about him that needs to be emended. And he's right: intentions make or break an action. While I'm not the most moral person by his standards, I consider myself pretty innocent not becuase I'm delusional, but just because I think I take the right approach to all of my actions and determine beforehand if this is what I really want to do. But must we always be so guilty?
On the Road, Carrie, Stephen King. Carrie was both sad while being really fucking scary!
Eyes of the Dragon, Stephen King. Gift from the boy. This book is just King's attempt at a fairy tale, and it's possibly the best thing he's ever written. The plot's not that original, but it's told so well, you get entangled in the story he weaves. One thing to remember about Stephen King: he'll not be worth a Nobel Prize, but he tells wonderful stories. I've never read a book by him, no matter how bad the plot was, that I didn't get pulled into. ****
Night Shift, Stephen King.
To Kill a Mockingbird, Harper Lee. This book is so incredibly good I think I'm having an orgasm when I read it. Not only is the plot pretty good (worth a Pulitzer Prize, anyhow), it's so well written, I feel like I'm settling into a huge comfy chair when I read it. It's intellectually stimulating, endearing, all those wonderful words. Not like any of you needed me to tell you that. *****
Subjection of Women, J. S. Mill. All right early level-headed champion of women's rights! All right utility!
Genealogy of Morals, Friedrich Nietzsche. The big surprise was that Nietzsche isn't a nihilist, and I almost feel bad for being one. Almost. I mean, many of his criticisms of society I have made myself, and if that's what being a nihilist is, I guess I'm really not one. On the other hand, I'm certainly not waiting for the uberman to come and lead society to a glorious end or something.
Ariel, Jose Enrique Rodo. Written in Uruguay in 1900, this is an essay warning against the evils of materialism and how quickly a democracy can go wrong. He criticizes the United States and says Greece is possibly the best society ever. He preaches the importance of aesthetics in a society, and says more than anything else, one must have the proper motivation for his actions, regardless of the consequences of the actions. Beautiful writing. ****
A Discourse on the Origin of Inequality, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. Rousseau, Rousseau, speak in truths, for once. Or theory grounded in truth. His political theory is based on ideals and so are his ideas on the origin of inequality. It's a pretty easy conclusion to make that property does create inequality, but he also believes that people are inherently good. Not that I think they're inherently bad, but I know in a state of nature, no one will hesitate to knock me down and steal my berries.
The Social Contract, Jean-Jacques Rousseau. I don't like Rousseau--in fact, I think he's one of my least favorite political theorists. Not only is he idealistic (idealists piss me off), but I just don't think I'd like to live under a social contract where the basic premise is that freedom will be forced, whether I'm willing to accept it or not. How is freedom bad, forced or no? I don't want Rousseau's freedom. I don't think I understand him enough to offer a good explanation of what his idea of freedom is, but I also disagree with the idea of a general will, another thing I don't think I can explain. Rousseau's tough, man, because I don't think he understands what he's trying to say himself.
Pedro Paramo, Juan Rulfo. Rulfo was a leader of "magical realism" and one of the finest surrealist authors to come out of Latin America. Latin America tends to adopt old world art forms, and are often criticized for that, but in every piece of art that comes out of the country there is present a certain feeling, nuance, that is specifically Latin American. Rulfo's book is haunting and beautiful, lonely, and poetic. ****
A Vindication on the Rights of Woman, Mary Wollstonecraft. What is usually left out of the title is "and Man." Sure, men need to benefit from women's rights too. We should be equal partners in equality, right? Except, Mrs. Wollstonecraft, women don't have to be men to be equal.
