First of Three by Paul Auster

I've been threatening to read this trilogy to pad my numbers and I've finally made good with the completion of City of Glass, which brings me to fifteen books (one short of where I should have been last month at this time). Daniel Quinn is the main character: his initials are the same as Don Quixote, he goes on an adventure, like Don Quixote, and me might be a little off his rocker, like Don Quixote. Did he write the story? Did the Paul Auster that is in the story write it or is he like Cervantes' Cid Hamete Benengeli? There is a conversation between Quinn and Auster in the book that steers the reader into this train of thought, as does the closing, but it isn't resolved, thankfully.

I needed something that was short and fun for Memorial Day and this story did the trick. I'm hoping to get through the next two soon but I'm not sure I have the time. Rather than start Ghosts last night, I read Norman Mailer's 1957 essay, The White Negro, for my research paper.

The Intuitionist

Just finished The Intuitionist and I suggest you add it to your list of to-reads. I pulled it off the shelf because I was in need of some lighter reading than the Lefebvre and Baudrillard I'm reading for class; it was lighter, in a way -- it was funny at times -- but it was still pretty serious. Though the setting is obviously New York in what seems to be the mid-twentieth century, neither is stated explicitly (pay phone calls cost a dime and there are racist minstrel shows). I read this as an assertion that the existence of racism transcends time. This marks the second book by Colson Whitehead that I've read this year; I also listen to his Colossus of New York recording often.

Late night sore throat

I fell asleep about three hours ago, after starting Colson Whitehead's The Intuitionist; I was dreaming about having a gardening conversation with an architect I work with down in Berkeley when was slumber was interrupted. I swallowed and felt those pins in the back of my throat that pop up every once in a while, usually after a long stretch of hard work or a seasonal change. The timing is odd though: I'm right in the middle of a few projects at work, not to mention my research paper for my class and especially my self-imposed reading list, and the weather isn't even changing. I took a handful of advil with a large glass of orange juice and sat down at the computer to find that my formerly incredibly literary and verbose blog had degenerated into a gallery of pirated pictures and not-even-book-reviews. The question is, do I attempt to remedy the situation of this site at 2 am (with maybe a short review on the newly re-opened Virginia Inn) or do I return to my bed and pick up with the tale of opposing factions of elevator repair people (The Empiricists and the Intuitionists)? If it were any other book, I may have expounded on the virtues and disappointments of the "new" Virginia Inn (the soup and the 'kinda going upscale - well, not really upscale but just not as dingy as what I fell in love with' atmosphere, respectively) but that book is calling me from the other room.

Lucky 13

Gary Cross's An All-Consuming Century brings my 2008 count up to thirteen. This book reflected a more critical point of view on American Consumerism than Twitchell (whom was referred to as a celebrant of consumer culture by Cross) but remained fair and objective. I admire that he can critique popular culture without coming across as a crazed molotov cocktail-tossing rebel.

Freire calls those that let emotion overcome rational thought and criticism "sectarians." According to him, sectarianism is "predominantly emotional and uncritical" and "a reactionary stance" that often leads to "activism" which he defines as "action without vigilance or reflection." I'm personally working on not judging others' actions and beliefs from a purely emotional level so this is all very important to me.

Twitchell is Twelve

Picked up this book via the UW library system to get me started on my research project. The scope of the project is still unfolding (and I have five weeks from Tuesday to complete it) but the gist is trying to follow the influence of western consumption through the other fields it has influenced or by which it has been influenced: religion, art, architecture, economics, community, etc. It was an interesting read that I'd recommend to anyone that is critical of "mass consumption."

Speaking of consumption (of "high-culture"), we made it over to the Seattle Rep last night to see the final production of Seamus Heaney's The Cure at Troy. It was outstanding; I'd never the production of a "classic" on stage (it even had a chrous). Next up on the theater scene is hopefully Autobahn.

Now, for your listening pleasure, I give you Dark Meat. They are playing down the street so I'm going to see what the fuss is all about (supposedly they have 13 to 23 people on stage).

Christo

Enough said.

Make it 11

Just finished the aforementioned All The Sad Young Literary Men by Keith Gessen. Need to commiserate with other overeducated lost young souls? Need to feel better (or at least not alone) about all that overpriced beer you used to enjoy, all too often? Girls? These guys can't do that right either. There's something real and familiar here, even if you didn't go to Harvard, and especially if you feel like you're around 30 and just starting to figure things out (also known as wishing you knew what you know now back then).