"Buffaloed" and Butchered

This is another great, yet seemingly accidental find. I'd never heard of John Williams, nor his remarkable novel Butcher's Crossing set in the heyday of the buffalo hunter in the American western frontier, until I came across a review of a recent re-release of another of his works, in which a tantalizing summary of this book was included.

Why this title is not better known is surprising. It is quite well written, and presents an amazingly evocative, and involving recreation of a buffalo (okay, Bison) hunt, or more accurately, slaughter. It is shown as a dream, as a kind of work, a source of greed, and ultimately an uncontrollable, manic path of destruction.

Brutal, and Brilliant

Although I finished reading this one several weeks ago, it has taken me a while absorb it, to get over the shock of it, you might say. Blood Meridian is often hailed as probably Cormac McCarthy's best work, and it rated third, as I recall, in a recent survey of the best works of fiction in the past twenty-five years in the New York Times Book Review; upon reading it myself, I'd have to agree.

This book has a fairly notorious reputation; many have difficulty getting through its pages, for the constant and unrelenting violence found there. Perhaps more amazing, this brutal tale has much basis in fact - there was an infamous "Glanton gang" that ravaged the southwest territories, into Mexico, around 1850. There was (at least in one participant's account) an individual called Judge Holden, one of the most remarkable, and frightening, characters in American literature, according to one noted critic.

The K Brothers Challenge

I finished this Dostoevsky classic a while ago, but needed a little while to let it drift around in my mind before attempting any kind of write-up. First, one feels a particular sense of accomplishment at having taken on one of the great (and just plain big) literary titles, and even more, getting all the way through it. One of a number of survey-lit class titles I chose to skip (like I was actually going to read an 800-page book in the middle of summer, at that age?), I was turned on to this one after an enthusiastic literary discussion around the campfire around New Year's Eve. Instead of some heavy, probably depressing, and long-winded slog, of course it turns out to be quite different (mostly).

It did help, I think, to read Crime and Punishment earlier; also, adding the social element of a reading challenge with others at work or wherever certainly increased the pure enjoyment of the experience. The book contains, and embraces, so much that summarizing would be wholly inappropriate. I loved parts of this book, others I could have done without, but on the whole it is very much worth spending time with. I think the book does suffer from extended tangents, to the extent that the story loses some cohesion, and no character, in my opinion, emerges as the "hero" (I know, you are supposed to say it's Alyosha, but I disagree - he's mostly an observer, and he's around at the end, but I can't really call it his story more than any other character's).

Though it may seem trivial, I appreciate how tackling a supposedly "tough" book like this one and Crime and Punishment lessened my inclination to avoid the heftier literary classics. One learns to focus, yet be patient, and consistent. And before too much time has passed, you're at the end.

Next challenge: the upcoming new translation of War and Peace. Why not?

A Quintessential Western

This is a case where one wants to put aside the potentially dismissive genre label, so that a truly fine book can be properly embraced as "literature" - and yet, despite the depth and scope which enable it to break out of its categorical box, all the iconic elements of the Western story - its images, themes, landscapes and legends - suffuse this book, and draw the reader into the never-ending, constantly shifting battles that wage from the rough streets and fragile structures of the eponymous town, to the surrounding sun-scorched terrain that supplies the fledgling community with its reason for being, and for its potential extinction.

Getting Back to the Classics

This is one I've wanted to read since high school, but it never managed to work its way in to my reading schedule. So how did I actually manage to get it under my belt? Easy - on a recent hiking trip, someone was talking enthusiastically about The Brothers Karamazov. My hiking companion's enthusiasm for this book became infectious, and led to a rectification of our library's lack of Dostoevsky on its shelves. It also led to a friendly reading challenge between myself and a co-worker (and whoever else we can persuade) to actually read the classic sometime in the next year. It's mammoth size and literary regard were daunting enough to require some "gearing up" for both of us; I had the idea to read the much shorter Notes from Underground first, but I had a copy of Crime and Punishment on hand, and just started reading.

Turns out, it's a very interesting, involving story. Classics tend to be "classic" for a reason, and doesn't always mean they're "difficult." So much to think about when reading, and between readings, to keep one in its spell. Getting through a somewhat intimidating book like this compelled me to discipline my reading habits more than usual: I found myself staying up far too late to keep up my self-imposed quote of pages. The thing was, I enjoyed doing this; it felt like an accomplishment, an experience to treasure. I feel quite ready for The Brothers K now, though I'll likely slip one or two other titles in beforehand.

The Agreed Furthest Point

Recalling Scott and Amundson a century ago, Magnus Mills' novel Explorers of the New Century follows a pair of rival teams trekking over a barren, rocky continent toward the AFP, the "Agreed Furthest Point from Civilisation." Exactly what century we are in, and how much this world resembles our own, are only a few of the niftily tantalizing questions the reader will encounter with this book.

Who Took That Donut?

At Zephyr Holdings, no one has ever seen the CEO. The beautiful receptionist is paid twice as much as anybody else but does no work. One of the sales reps uses relationship books as sales manuals, and another is on the warpath because somebody stole his donut.

- from the jacket copy of Company, a new novel by Max Barry.