4.1.13

Theresa of Avila on the Meaning of Life

Handwriting Credit: Greig Roselli

1.1.13

The Best Novels I Read in 2012

Top Ten Novels Read in 2012
1.       Lionel Shriver. The Post-Birthday World .  2007. 528 pp.
I was intrigued by the storytelling. Shriver is da bomb.
2.       Lionel Shriver. We Need to Talk About Kevin. 2003. 400 pp.
About a high school shooting, it is a dark indictment of American mores.
3.       William Trevor. Felicia's Journey . 1994. 240 pp.
Stepping into this novel is like stepping on a hot plate with set to slow burn fuck up.
4.       Don Delillo. White Noise.  310 pp. 1985
Written over twenty years ago, this novel may be too ironic to still matter.
5.       Lionel Shriver. A Perfectly Good Family: A Novel  305 pp.
Southern family, a house, sibling rivalries – and the death of parents!
6.       Norton Juster. The Phantom Tollbooth. 1961. 272 pp.
Very clever novel about how to overcome boredom and to think for oneself.
7.       Terry Pratchett. Hogfather (Discworld, #20) 1996. 448 pp.
Ho Ho Ho. Death cracks me up. An alternative Christmas story for sure.
8.       Lindqvist, John Ajvide. Let the Right One In. 2005. 513 pp.
Child murderer(s), bullying, girl vampire, pedophilia and Sweden. Chilling.
9.       Joyce Carol Oates. Zombie 1995. 181 pp.
The ending is fucked up. Pair it up with Shriver’s Kevin and Trevor’s Felicia.
It’ll make for good CGI film-making and the time travel makes sense. Sorta.

Honorable Mentions

George R.R. Martin. A Game of Thrones (A Song of Ice and Fire, #1) 1996. 693 pp.
   The names are fun. And maps! Surprisingly easy to follow.

Neil Gaiman. American Gods . 2001. 632 pp.
   Gaiman wants us to like his villains. I don’t mind.

Lonely Christopher. The Mechanics of Homosexual Intercourse 2011 190 pp.
   I was not stunned by this mess.

Charlaine Harris. All Together Dead (Sookie Stackhouse, #7)  2006. 323 pp.
   Don’t hate me but Allan Ball does a better job.

Neil Gaiman.Neverwhere 1996. 370 pp.
   Great concept: a world under London. Feels like Pullman. It isn’t.

Phillip K. Dick. The Simulacra. 1964. 214 pp.
   Sorry. I was not liking this paranoid regurgitation. Not Dick’s best.

Phillip K. Dick. Paycheck and Other Classic Stories 1952. 432 pp.
The one about the robots and the dude who builds a replica of his hometown are the best of the stories.

Shriver, Lionel. The Female of the Species 1987. 416 pp.
   I’d rather a story about the Masai then Gray and her failed trysts.

   The book is lackluster and I’d suggested Homer instead.

Daisuki Igarashi Children of the Sea, Volume 1 (Children of the Sea, #1)  Unknown date. 320 pp.
Too bad I read this book from left to right first! Duh. Read it from right to left.

Great set of books: I loved the description of food. I hear there is a Hunger Games cookbook.

25.12.12

From the Womb to the Tomb

Joseph Campbell, Hero With a  Thousand Faces (1949), page 8

23.12.12

Poem: Thrasymachus Blushing

thrasymachus blushing
blushing belies betrayal
betrayal of the body 
the body belied

so says socrates
not blushing
but catching thrasymachus in a blush

a crucial catch of the passage
says the professor
a critical juncture blushing
is

for in it
socrates 
calls thrasymachus out

for is it not true
that one cannot
forfeit an argument?
even if one knows forfeiting is the right thing to do
our body forfeits for us
turning rouge
in a crowd of philosophers
vying for truth

to get the answer wrong is an admission of failure
of not getting it

and we want to get it

so we plow on regardless
but our body -
it sees our flaw
and quickens -
blood flows more fully 
and all can see our less than comfortable
feeling of resting with a certain unjustified truth
Greig Roselli ® 2012

15.12.12

Repurposing: Alice in Wonderland Book Clock


This nifty book clock clocks at fifty bucks at the Brooklyn holiday bazaar. Too bad I cannot afford it.
www.bugcicle.com 

3.12.12

Quote: Kobo Abé On the Value of Work

The only way to go beyond work is through work. It is not that work itself is valuable; we surmount work by work. The real value of work lies in the strength of self-denial.
Kobo Abé, The Woman in the Dunes (1964)
Image credit:  Greig Roselli
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