Book #26: Bright Lights, Big City

Book #26: Bright Lights, Big City by Jay McInerney

July 8, 2013


New York City is the most vastly populated city in the US, with over 8 million people (maybe closer to 9?). I've never been to New York myself. My only trips to the northeast have been to Boston and New Hampshire, when I had family living out there (they've since relocated back to California). I like Boston from a historical aspect, all the old buildings and streets and stuff. I've always been interested in it, if I haven't been a big history nerd. But the northeast is somewhat known for not being as friendly as, say the Midwest, and...well, I have tender feelings, and I happen to think that people in my hometown, for the most part, are really very nice and polite people, all things considered.

Anyway, of course, NYC is a big part of popular culture. Many famous sitcoms take place in NY, like Friends or How I Met Your Mother. Sex and the City (which I love, by the way, I still enjoy the reruns, but I thought the first movie was only okay and the second movie was horrible), of course, takes place in New York. It's historically significant, too, as it was the "passageway" to the country for people coming from European countries (Statue of Liberty, hello?). I remember reading somewhere, prior to downloading this book to my Kindle Fire, that every New Yorker should read Bright Lights, Big City. After doing so myself, I sort of wonder why.

The story of the main character (unnamed and referred to in the second person; that style worked for the narrative, I thought) is pretty unspectacular, so I guess it really could have been the story of any young educated New Yorker in the '80s. The main character has had a pretty shitty year. First his mother died (this, for some reason, isn't revealed until pretty far into the story, though it's hinted at a little in a couple of places when the main character mentions disappointing his father when he got fired, or not wanting to tell his father that his wife left him). His wife Amanda became a model and left him to live in Paris. However, when she was back in New York and ran into him at a party, she was there with a male escort (uh, maybe...his buddy Tad might have made that up to cheer up the main character, who, wired up on coke, had a laughing fit when he finally came face-to-face with his wife again for the first time in months). But he's over his wife, and may have a new relationship springing up with a Princeton grad student.

But at the end of the book, his life is pretty much shit. Not that it was great to start with. Abandoned by his wife, he goes out and gets all coked up with his crazy friend Tad all the time, when really he claims to just want to stay home and read a book. He's a writer (sort of), well-educated, and he works for a prestigious magazine. But his coke habit gets in the way of him being able to do his job well, and after messing up a piece that he was supposed to fact-check (that's what he does, a job that he finds very dry and dull, when he would rather work in Fiction), he gets fired. Then he and Tad let a ferret loose in the office, and he leaves a drunk coworker, an old man at that, lying on top of an overturned book shelf in his boss's office. This dude is a hot mess.

His brother shows up on his doorstep and the main character runs away from him. I laughed aloud when that happened. But Michael eventually catches up with him at his apartment, and the brothers have a physical fight before reconciling. They go out and have some drinks, talk about their mother (the main character hasn't been able to get closure about her death), go back to his apartment. He snorts like 8 lines of coke while Michael falls asleep, goes out with Tad, and that's when  he runs into Amanda. Then on the way home, he trades his sunglasses for a bag of fresh bread, and starts eating it on the street. And that's the end of the book.

I'd maybe view this as a kind of coming-of-age novel. I mean, the character is only 24. That still seems young to me; a year younger than me, and I definitely don't feel old yet. Of course, I did throw my back out two weeks ago (that put me out of the mood for reading for a little while), and I found the second grey hair of my life that same week, so I'm not exactly feeling young and sprightly here. But I definitely feel like I'm still "developing," though I guess we all are. This main character is definitely in the process of developing. I wish that I could see how it goes, but that will require him leaving the city, I think. Going with his brothers and father to Michigan to spread his mother's ashes at last, to gain some perspective on his life and his situation. Divorced (not even yet), jobless...what's keeping him in New York, besides coke and parties? And he doesn't even seem to like the parties...although he is developing a drug addiction.

It seems pretty normal, though, for the time and place. As the main character clears out his desk after being fired, he finds some coke at the bottom of the drawer. He lines it up on the desk and offers it to a coworker, who must be at least 10 years older. She doesn't even hesitate in snorting it up. Even his seemingly straight-laced brother Michael agrees to some coke, but falls asleep before he can take it, I guess? Was coke in New York in the '80s like cigarettes in the '50s and '60s...everybody just did it? I mean, I wasn't surprised or shocked by the main character snorting it from a toilet seat in a club with a couple of women...that I would expect.

Anyway, he gets a nose bleed on the street before he buys the bread, but I don't know if he's thinking of giving up coke. The last lines of the book (which ended very strangely, very abruptly, it seemed) indicate that he is at a new beginning, but nothing is mentioned or indicated about getting off drugs. Well, drugs weren't his big problem at the start. They didn't kill his mother, and they didn't send his wife away. In fact, if the narration is to be believed, he was a pretty good husband. Maybe, maybe not. I found myself thinking that the guy was kind of a douche, sort of pitiable, but kind of an asshole. It's like, okay, if you don't want to go out and party, then don't go out and party...just stop bitching about it! His wife really was horrible to him, and it's unfortunate that there was not more closure there, but he did say that he was done with it. Maybe that was true.

I feel somewhat the same way about this book as I did about Fear and Loathing...in that it does give a snapshot of an important time and place in American history and culture. New York in the 1980s. I wouldn't necessarily call this an essential read for all New Yorkers; I'm sure that the main character's misadventures would now seem a little out-of-date for today's scene. However, at least I could feel something about the main character (a bit of pity, and while, yeah, he could be a stupid asshole at times, he seems like he had a decent heart, and I must admit that I could relate to him a little...I wonder if that was an effect of the narrative style?), other than annoyance and amusement.

I've read a couple of different comparisons between McInerney's work and that of Bret Easton Ellis. Besides characters who are young urban-dwellers, upper-middle class, and it being the 1980s, I don't see the similarities. Granted, I have yet to read any Ellis. I can't get my hands on any through the library; he must be banned. From what I know, his characters are psychotic killers or drug fiends (I wouldn't call the main character in this book a fiend, just an average everyday addict) or child rapists, the scum of the earth. The main character in this text wasn't at all a bad guy. He was a relatable guy, a guy who'd had a hard time lately, still immature in his years in spite of his experiences, somewhat of a dumb ass. I might speculate that he was an Everyman for 1980's New York City.

Women love Sex and the City not only because the bold sexuality of these characters, but also because they were so relatable. It was a thing for a while to be like "Oh, I'm a Charlotte" or whatever. Miranda was smart and strong, Carrie was intelligent but open to love, Charlotte was lovely and soft and wanted everything to be beautiful, and Samantha was a woman who was very strong in her sexuality, to say the least. Strong, successful women having good sex...who wouldn't want to relate to that? (And not snorting coke, either).

A Midwestern icon, the Field of Dreams. The Midwest, and Iowa itself, isn't all farm lands and small towns. Unfortunately, many of those communities are suffering (meth isn't a very positive contribution, for one thing), while urban centers are growing and thriving.

Book #25: The Hobbit

Book #25: The Hobbit by J.R.R. Tolkien

June 23, 2013


I was in sixth grade when I first got into the Harry Potter series. My grandparents had sent me the third one, The Prisoner of Azkaban, was my 12th birthday (to this day, it's still my favorite of the ones I've read), and I was hooked from there. The 4th one came out that summer, and the 5th one wasn't until until 4 years later. And in that one, they killed off Sirius Black, my favorite character in the series. After that, I was kind of over Harry Potter, and I never did read the last two books. So weird...I'd been really into it, and just like that, my interests completely changed. Of course, the last two books are on my "to read" list at this point, so I will get around to them, and I'll probably fall in love with the series all over again.

Anyway, I'd never read any Tolkien before, though I have seen all three of the Lord of the Rings movies (I have not seen The Hobbit). But I figured if I was going to read Tolkien, I'd start at the beginning. And not only did I absolutely adore this book, but I can clearly see how it has influenced fantasy literature since it was published in 1938...especially the Harry Potter series.

I was struck, as I began reading, at how simple the language is. I found myself thinking several times that The Hobbit would be a really fun book to read aloud, either to students or to my own children (if I ever have any). Like J.K. Rowling, Tolkien creates a vibrant magical world full of fascinating imaginary creatures, most of them familiar in some form or another to the reader: elves, dwarves, goblins, wizards. Gandolf is, of course, a prominent character in the text, as he tricks the hobbit Bilbo Baggins into going on a journey with a band of dwarves, led by Thorin Oakenshield, to recover the treasure and their old kingdom that was taken from them long ago.

It is explained in the text that hobbits are homebodies by nature, but Bilbo has a history of adventurers on his mother's side, the Took side of the family, and so that part of him wins out and he goes along on the long adventure. Though he is timid at the start, he soon proves himself to be brave and clever. The turning point would be when he finds the ring (yes, the same ring from the Lord of the Rings trilogy), which allows him to disappear whenever he puts it on. The ring's dark magic is only hinted at with Bilbo's run-in with Gollum, who, in my opinion, is one of the most tragic characters in literature. I read that Tolkien actually rewrote the scene with Gollum for later editions, more strongly establishing the connection between Bilbo's adventure, and the magic ring, and Frodo's adventures in the trilogy. I could tell a difference between the writing style in that scene, particularly with the descriptions of pathetic Gollum, and the more simplistic writing style of the earlier chapters. That chapter is when I really started getting into the book.

Bilbo's story is well known, so here's just a brief run-through of the rest. He and the dwarves encounter many dangers as they journey to the mountains, and make enemies of goblins, wolves, giant spiders (another parallel to Harry Potter!), elves, and men. Thorin, though a brave leader of the dwarves, is very prideful, and often it is his pride and greed that gets him and his crew into trouble (as was the case with the elves). When they finally reach the Lonely Mountain, where the dwarves had once made their home and where their treasure is still hid, they must find a way to battle the evil dragon Smaug, who guards the hoard. Bilbo, with his ring, teases and enrages the dragon, who sets out for vengeance against the town of men nearby. A brave man named Bard kills the dragon, but pride Thorin refuses to share his treasure with the people. Bilbo, who had cleverly gotten hold of the Arkenstone, Thorin's most prized possession among the hoard, gives it to the men and elves, who are holding the mountain under siege until Thorin agrees to negotiate. In the end, the enemies must all band together when the goblins and wolves invade, and in the end they are victorious. Though Thorin and a couple of other dwarves from the original journey die in battle, there is peace in the land, and Bilbo and Gandolf make their way home again. Bilbo has riches of his own from the journey, and the magic ring...which, as well all know, comes into significance again the trilogy.

This is just a charming, well-written, solid fantasy adventure, and it is no wonder that it is a classic and sighted as an influence for so many great stories today. Not only that, but as I read, I found myself marveling at the connections between Tolkien's work and songs by the band Led Zeppelin, which was a favorite of mine in high school (I was embarrassingly dorky). I already got the references in the song "Ramble On," with the lines about Mordor and Gollum, but the song title "Misty Mountain Hop" is a direct reference to the Misty Mountains in the book. Crazy! I read up that other rock bands in the '70s, like Black Sabbath and Rush, produced songs that were inspired by Tolkien's work. You know that something is really influential when it transcends genres and artistic mediums.

I don't know why I don't read more fantasy work. I always get into it and enjoy it. The last of the Harry Potter series has been moved up on my list, for sure, and at some point, I think I'll tick off the entire trilogy for Lord of the Rings all at once. For now, I'm going to keep as much variety in my selections as possible. As far as that goes, I don't think I could be doing a better job!

Robert Plant and Jimmy Page of Led Zeppelin. These two nerds were apparently the ones who were influenced by Tolkien. Check out the dragon embroidered on Page's jacket...is it any surprise?

Sir Ian McKellen as Gandalf. He is really great in those movies. Like in the trilogy, Gandalf sort of flints in and out of the action in The Hobbit, though he instigated much of the action. He is certainly wiser than he lets on, and there are snatches of this in the story.

Book #24: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas

Book #24: Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas: A Savage Journey to the Heart of the American Dream by Hunter S. Thompson

June 19, 2013


I would have read this book straight through in one go, but my reading was interrupted by a three-hour shift at one of my jobs. Regardless, Fear and Loathing... was a fast-paced read, and while it kept my interest throughout, I sometimes found myself wondering why Thompson had written this novel. You see, it's pretty clear that this is a somewhat autobiographical work. Thompson, going under the false name "Raoul Duke" (though his real name is revealed a couple of times), and a character that he refers to only as "my attorney" (a big Samoan who is just as insane as he is), spend a few days in Las Vegas having various drug-induced adventures. The overall tone of the novel is described right in the title: fear (drug-induced paranoia) and loathing of all of the people around them, whom they imagine (sometimes with good reason) are "after them." Thompson describes in detail all of the drugs that they brought along for their trip from LA, including mescaline, cocaine, weed, acid, and some crazy-sounding shit that I've never even heard of. From how paranoid and jittery they were, and with all of the crazy hallucinations they were having, it didn't make doing drugs sound very fun.

So I had to wonder: was Thompson trying to send some kind of anti-drug message with this work? I doubt it..."Duke" doesn't have any sort of personal revelations about his dangerous lifestyle as his disastrous trip to Vegas ends and he heads off for more adventures in Colorado (his first time: a pharmacy, where he cons the woman behind the counter into giving him pills). The novel, which many acknowledge as an American classic, presents a slice of American life from the early '70s, a tumultuous time in our country, indeed. Thompson includes snatches of news stories that "Duke" reads at various intervals in the story; whether these were real stories or based on real events, they still tell an important story about what was happening in our country at that time. Lots of stories about drug addicts (one that stood out to me was about a young man from a prominent family who, while tripping on PCP and LSD, tore out his own eyeballs in a holding cell); mentions of Richard Nixon (the Watergate scandal was going on during the time that this novel takes place/was published); more than a few mentions of the Vietnam War and veterans who came back messed up. It makes sense that Thompson would also mention the incident at Altamont with the Hell's Angels attacking an out-of-control crowd, killing one drugged-out young man; Thompson had previously interviewed and written about the Hell's Angels before Fear and Loathing...

I also couldn't help but think that "Duke" and his "attorney" couldn't have been the only ones around them, in LA or Vegas, tripping out as badly as they were, considering the times. Though they were so convinced that everybody was watching them and waiting to bust them, I imagine that many others around them were just as fucked out of their heads. Since the drugs made them so paranoid and crazy, I found myself constantly thinking, "Why take them?" Most of the drugs (except, perhaps, the weed; I will simply say that the arguments for marijuana legalization seem more logical than the arguments against it) that they were taking were extremely dangerous, not anything that people should mess with. And they didn't even like taking them...they were addicts, I'm sure, but besides cocaine (which, admittedly, they actually lost when the "attorney" spilled it in the convertible as they were speeding to Vegas), I guess I don't really know how addictive acid or ether or any of those other drugs really are...

Since the characters were on drugs throughout really the entire novel, this was another case of having unreliable narrators. But there isn't really much of a plot to follow, per se; but, once I got through the first couple of chapters, I found it relatively easy to wade my way through "Duke's" sometimes incoherent storytelling, and could tell the difference between what he was imagining in his drug-addled mind and what was actually happening (at least, I felt like I could...who's to say?). Thompson's writing style is interesting in that way, and I guess it's appropriate for the subject matter.

What did I get out of reading this book? It was entertaining, and...I guess that's the extent of it. Perhaps when it was published in 1972, it was innovative in its descriptions of drug usage and in Thompson's writing style...or maybe not. Regardless, as previously stated, it shows a slice of America during an essential time of change. It's certainly a novel of its time. And of course, it was adapted into a film (starring Johnny Depp, a personal friend of Thompson's until his death in 1988, as the main character), which is considered a cult classic. I've never seen it, though I may watch it just to see how "Duke's" drugged-out mind and paranoia are translated to the screen. The line "why are you stopping here? This is bat country" has become famous, as that beginning scene from the book is probably the most recognized of the film, even by those who have never seen it. Personally, I may not watch it, just for the fact that I really don't like Johnny Depp. I don't. I'm so over his shtick; what is the deal with him being cast as Tonto in this new movie version of The Lone Ranger? Aren't there any Indian actors out there who would be able to do the role? I have to wonder what someone like Sherman Alexie would have to say about that...

However, I've very glad that I read this novel. After all, my goal here is to read different authors, to get different perspectives, to be exposed to different styles of writing. This book is an essential part of accomplishing that mission. It would certainly not be one of those books that I would say "if I could only read one book for the rest of my life, this would be it." But when I think about it, I can't really think of any books that I would say that about. I had a conversation with a coworker of mine recently, as she'd brought a book to work to read during her downtime. I said something like, "There's so many good books out there, and I know that in my lifetime, I'll never be able to read all of the ones that I want to read." But if I'm able to spend a day just reading, like I was mostly able to do today, and mark another book off of my list...well, I'm come pretty damn close.

A retouched photo of Hunter S. Thompson, complete with his signature cigarette holder. Okay, he does look pretty damn cool in this picture...but I'd hate to see what his eyes looked like behind those sunglasses.

Fear and Loathing...(especially the film) has a popular following of drug users (every freaking stoner in every freaking college dorm in America probably has a Fear and Loathing... poster with Johnny Depp's annoying face on it), alongside a picture such as the one above, meant to represent an acid trip or something. Being on acid doesn't seem like a bunch of rosy colors and wavy lines, though...hugs not drugs, people.

Book #23: Atlas Shrugged

Book #23: Atlas Shrugged by Ayn Rand

June 18, 2013


Here we go: this one is definitely not a book that I ever planned on reading. For one thing, it is really really long: 1168 pages in the edition that I read, by far the longest book I've ever taken on. I finished it pretty quickly, too, considering how long it took me to read other, not-quite-as-long novels. I have had more free time lately, with summer started. My morning classes prevented me from getting a full-time job this summer, and I'm not working daily at my side jobs (thank God for that end-of-year sub job; haven't even gotten the last paycheck for that one), so that's left quite a bit more reading time in my schedule than before. But also, I kind of just wanted to get this one out of the way.

You see, the length alone wasn't the cause of my hesitation, but rather what my understanding was of the author's political stance. Ayn Rand was discussed a bit during the last round of elections (try and guess who I voted for), as she was cited by Republican vice presidential nominee Paul Ryan as being a major influence, even requiring his staff to read her work. From what I understood, she had endorsed having as little government as possible, and would have been vehemently opposed to the social programs of today. Quite contrary to many of my views. But that's what made me decide to pick it up, I think; I can't really form an argument against something if I don't make an attempt to understand it.

There was a part of me, as I started reading, that wanted to kind of ignore Rand's political views, and just take the story for what it was. But I figured out pretty quickly that Rand's work was a means of communicating her political views. Her "political philosophy" is something called Objectivism, and that's what is promoted through this story. I'll sort of unravel and express my views on my understanding of this philosophy as I go along here. I haven't done any further reading beyond the novel itself, though there is an active institution running today with the goal of spreading her message, I guess. I don't really feel like delving too much more into it; 1168 pages is enough, don't you think?

But behind her political message, there is a very interesting story. It should be understood that the novel is set in some sort of not-too-futuristic America (I found myself thinking of it more as an alternative universe past, since technology had not extended too far beyond what was around in the '50's, besides the fictional innovations from the characters themselves). The world's economy is falling apart; most of the other countries, including all of Europe, have become Communist people's states. Some details are given about the living conditions there; basically, it sounds like what was going on during this time in China, during Mao's "Great Leap Forward"; people being forced to work on communal farms, starving to death, cut off from the rest of the world. America, basically the last country standing, is starting to collapse in on itself. But at the start of the novel (which spans about four years), business is mostly running as usual.

Dagny Taggert is the Vice President of Operations at Taggert Transcontinental, the railroad company founded by her ancestor Nat Taggert, whom she admires for the fact that he was a pioneering businessman, an early industrialist who didn't let anything stand in the way of his goals. Being a woman in power, people are respectful but wary of her. Her brother James, who ineptly runs of the company (though it is really his sister who competently runs the show), is very different from her. He is more eager to save face with his business allies and his buddies in Washington than in actually making decisions that will keep his company running smoothly. Dagny, in contrast, is passionate about the railroad, has been since she was a child, and wants to see it continue to progress. Her common sense manner is a stark contrast to her brother's whining excuses, as at the beginning of the novel, they argue over the fact that she has ordered steel for new rails from a reliable supplier, Hank Rearden, whom James has a grudge against...plus, he's afraid of upsetting his friend, another steel manufacturer named Orren Boyle, though his order for steel through Boyle's company has been stalled for over a year. James is prone to passionate fits of anger when he is asked to explain his reasonings, to have any sort of reason at all. His constant cry through the novel is "I can't help it!"

That seems to be the problem with most people in the country. They don't want to take responsibility for anything. In general, they don't want to think or look for answers to questions. A popular bit of slang, in response to a hopeless question, is the response, "Who is John Galt?" (They all soon find out the answer to that one). People like Dagny and Rearden are forced to shoulder the burden...and are often met with scornful resistance at that. Still, for a while, Dagny and Rearden, and others like them, are able to keep things progressing, even as the country is beginning to fall apart.

The love story between Dagny (who hasn't had a lover since Francisco d'Anconia, her childhood friend and the heir of a huge copper mining company, who seemed to have given up his dreams to become a hard-partying playboy...but instead has been trying to lead a doomed America to its final ruin) and Rearden (who is married to Lillian, a conniving bitch who aims to ruin him) drew me in. I like the character Rearden. He, along with Dagny and Francisco, are basically the three main characters of the first two parts of the text. Unlike the other two, Rearden did not inherit a company (though Dagny and Francisco, in their younger years, both tried to "earn" their places in their respective family companies); he began working as a child in a mine in Minnesota, and worked hard with only one purpose: to make money. Nothing wrong with that, though his family (who live off his fortune) have scorned him. I felt bad for him, during the scenes of him at home with his mother, wife, and brother, who are all tearing into him for doing what he loves and making a lot of money doing it (again, while they live off of his generosity). I found myself wondering: a man of so much power and dignity, why would he put up with that in his own home? I felt like he deserved to find love, and I thought that he and Dagny were a good fit. Together, they introduce his innovative Rearden Metal (some alloy that he and his scientists created, literally a super-metal) to a more-than-reluctant market when they lay it out on a new track in Colorado, which is newly bustling with industry. In defiance of people who scorn progress and don't seek answers, Dagny called the new track the John Galt Line (much to Francisco's understandable horror).

As the people in Washington and the businessmen who are in line with them set strict policies and restrictions on various industries, in blind response to the struggling economy in the country (these policies, being very short-sighted, are only to appease the beneficiaries temporarily and to gain public support), various prominent and competent businessmen (and people in other professions) begin disappearing. In fact, while it's been happening for several years already, it really begins to pick up as conditions worsen and the government's hold on businesses tightens. Dagny is frustrated as she sees men that she deals with and admires slipping away, leaving their various industries abandoned and worsening the conditions in the country. She and Rearden struggle on. She is driven by the hope of keeping her railroad running, though her brother seems to be doing everything in his power to stop it, and even as she loses competent men from the inside. The people in power, those that she was opposing, were just so freaking stupid, she was very easy to cheer on. She's also driven by a mission: first, to discover the inventor of a highly innovative motor that she and Rearden find in an abandoned auto factory in Wisconsin; later, to at least find someone with the skills to figure out how the motor works, as it was left without any of its plans, and was basically a pile of junk at that point (though she knew it for what it was). Her struggle is fascinating, as is Rearden's; first, he can't find a market for his  Metal; then, when people finally see how incredible it is, there are so many demands for it that the government makes many attempts to get the rights to it...and finally succeeds by blackmailing Rearden, threatening to expose his affair with Dagny to the public, ruining her reputation. His own scheming wife and Dagny's brother were the ones who gave the government the information.

Dagny is also determined to  find "the destroyer," the person who is behind the disappearances of the most important people in the country. Francisco is in on it, but it is the legendary John Galt himself who is running the show. Part two ends with her in hot pursuit of "the destroyer" (whom she had not yet met) as he takes away the competent young man that she'd hired to figure out the secret of the motor. Her plane crashes in wild Colorado, right in the valley where all these prominent people are living happily and hiding out. That's the start of part three.

Now, that's when things get a bit strange in this novel. Up to that point, I was rooting on Dagny and Rearden. Then, John Galt comes onto the scene. Now, I could see for a mile that he was Eddie Willer's silent friend in the terminal cafeteria, and that he was the one who built that miraculous motor. What I was not expecting was Dagny's reaction to meeting him, and I found myself getting very pissed off (to the point that I even gritted my teeth and shook my Kindle Fire as I cried, "What about Hank???"). Here's basically how the whole love-square between Dagny and these men plays out as of part three:

Dagny: John Galt? Whoa...my sworn enemy, but...damn, he's gorgeous! And so smart...baby, you are the man of my dreams. I want to fuck you so bad, I can't even sleep at night knowing you're in the next room. Hank who?

Galt: I've been stalking you for the last decade, Dagny.

Dagny: That's hot.

Galt: But I can't sleep with you until you agree to join our cause. Oh, wait, never mind, let' s just have sex under the Taggert Terminal, I know you like it kinky.

Francisco: Yeah, she does. Oh, yeah, even though I've been wanting Dagny back for the last twelve years and never even slept with any of those other women, I'm gonna let John take this one.

Rearden: By the way, I'm totally cool with this, too. John Galt is damn sexy. Besides, Francisco and I are totally gay for each other.

Francisco: He's the only man I've ever loved.

So Rearden and Francisco aren't exactly gay (that could be interpreted, but Rand was pretty homophobic, so that probably wasn't her intention...unless it was subconscious, of course...), but the rest of it sums it up pretty accurately. I didn't like Dagny very much after that, as she went through the rest of the novel all moony-eyed over Galt. When she returns to New York from the hidden valley of self-righteous greed, she does make attempts to run the railroad (though conditions have gotten extremely bad at this point...so much so that the opposing side looks dangerously ridiculous), but is mostly obsessed with getting back with Galt, though she's not quite ready to join their strike. Galt makes a speech over the airwaves of the country...a fucking speech that goes on for 60+ pages. Yeah, 60+ pages of one guy talking. I can sum up those sixty pages here: Every social view that you've ever been taught in your life is wrong. You are a human being, so you need to use your brain. Don't live off of others; make your own way. And don't let others take advantage of you.

Galt's speech sends the country into chaos. Violence erupts everywhere. The leaders, including the Head of State Mr. Thompson (there is no President mentioned in the novel...also, this "Mr. Thompson" is never given a first name), are eager to get in touch with Galt and have him fix the problems that they have created. Horny Dagny leads them right to his front door, and he is taken prisoner. In the luxurious hotel suite where he is held captive, he refuses to help the country's leaders. They finally resort to torture, but he is saved by Dagny, Franscico, Rearden, and Ragnar Danneskjold (who became an infamous pirate rather than use his brain to serve an oppressive country), and they all flee to the hidden valley to watch the country destroy itself...before returning to rebuild it, their way.

So Rand uses this extreme dystopian setting to get her political points across. And while the ideas of her characters make sense (even though these "Objectivists" do tend to go on and on...I thought Francisco himself was a windbag until I got to that John Galt speech), this is in contrast to their opponents, who contradict themselves constantly, who fly into fits of rage at the drop of a hat (while the Objectivists are always cool, calm, and collected), and who are usually described as being physically ugly (fat, or hunched over, or greasy...what have you; the women on this side are either "tasteless," or fatties without properly supportive bras); on the other hand, those cool Objectivists always get their point across (even if they go on and on and on in doing so...there's something to be said about being succinct), and they're also extremely good-looking. Dagny is beautiful, of course, while her brother is a balding, hunched-over mess; John Galt is literally described as being a bronze-haired Greek god, while Orren Boyle is a big fat turd. It's so simple in Rand's world; what about when the enemy has a handsome face, and when he is a good talker? What then?

That aside, there were points that Rand brought up that I agree with, not just in a political sense, but in a personal sense as well. There was also plenty that I did not agree with. Here's a list of the points valued by Rand, that I happen to agree with:

-People need to be competent in their professions. That's pretty common-sense stuff right there. If you have a job, DO IT.

-Don't spend (or consume) more than you have! That's how debt is created...a major problem in America today.

-The mixing of private industry and politics is dirty business. It was so in the novel, and what scared me most about it was that those sort of dirty dealings are going on constantly in our government today...and none of it means good news for me, I know that much.

-Irresponsible lending (whether by banks or institutions, or from one individual to another) leads to trouble. We saw that very clearly with these bank bail-outs of just a few years ago (and again, this idea that a company is "too big to fail"...says who?). Those kind of bail-outs reminded me exactly of the kind of desperate policy-making going on in the novel. That really spoke to me, for sure.

-Nobody owes you anything. It is each person's responsibility to go out and make his or her own way. That's been a driving idea in my personal life.

-Own up to your responsibilities and your actions! People in the novel were afraid of making important decisions, because they did not want to suffer the consequences. Dagny was not one such person; she was always willing to take the fall, as long as she could get done what needed to be done. I feel like a lot of people today are afraid in this same way; if they act, they'll have to be held responsible for those actions, and wouldn't it be safer just to NOT act and let others take the fall? That's a very dangerous attitude...

-You have a brain...USE IT!

-Be up-front with people. I agreed with that and admired that trait in the protagonists, and found the way that the antagonists avoided actually answering any straight questions to be more than annoying.

-It is moral and necessary for the societies and institutions of man to progress.

But there are just as many things that I do not agree with Rand on:

-Rand's views on public education, as expressed in the novel, are very negative. As an educator, I certainly don't look at education being an evil institution poisoning the minds of youth. I do think that education needs to be reformed, in a progressive way; make the learning in the classrooms, and the way that classrooms are run, reflect the real expectations of the outside world. I feel like traditional classrooms really aren't preparing our children for the 21st century, and major budget cuts on education (which Rand would definitely support, as she was in favor of completely eliminating income taxes) aren't helping in that regard. But evil? That's very extreme.

-As I just mentioned, Rand did not believe in income taxes. She believed that government should be stripped down to courts, police, and army...and that's basically it (as proposed by Galt in the novel). Um...and where did she suppose the money would come from to pay these employees? And what about the other services that the government provides...like road maintenance? She certainly would want to dismantle all other public institutions, like welfare, and would be staunchly opposed to public health care, which, as I wrote in a previous posting, I support. I don't mind putting in my share to make sure I have these things...because I need them! Because I use the roads, and if I'm paying in to public health care, I know that I'll get what I'm paying for when I need it (again, if Canada can make it work...). Her views in this regard was very simplistic, and not even in Galt's 60+ page rant did he explain why this would be a viable form of government.

-Galt and the others on his side support looking out for one's own best interest. I agree, but I also think that we do need to look out for our fellow man. Charity is important, just so long as people remember that charity begins in the home, and that they aren't sacrificing themselves in order to help others...which is what Galt and his friends are really against, anyway.

-Rand's theory seems to simple: if you work hard enough, you'll be as successful as you deserve to be. The people who don't succeed are just whiny little bitches, anyway (and the failures in this novel certainly are). Again, very simplistic. What about minority races (who are not even mentioned in this novel, not at all)? There are many complex sociological factors that keep Indians on the rez, or blacks in the ghetto. What about them? It's not so simple when you stack up her ideas against the real world.

There were times, especially as the Objectivist characters went on and on, that I wanted to roll my eyes and tell them to just shut up. But for the most part, I enjoyed the story (though Part Three got pretty ridiculous). I don't feel that this book was a waste of my time; I'm glad that I read it, but I'm glad that I'm done with it, too. Rand got to be a bit much at times, and I was overloading myself on reading almost every day just to get done with it. A couple of "fun" books are in order...

The famous Atlas statue in New York. It is often used as a symbol for people who embrace the philosophy of Objectivism. Francisco's explanation of the novel's title was entirely unnecessary, by the way...

I don't think that the person who created this silly Valentine quite got the essence of Rand's ideas, but it's still silly.

Book #22: The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon

Book #22: The Girl Who Loved Tom Gordon by Stephen King

June 1, 2013


I'll admit that I felt like I was "cheating" a bit when I picked this book up at the library. After all, with this whole book-reading challenge thing, I'm supposed to be reading authors and genres that I don't typically delve into. And I've actually read quite a bit of Stephen King. He's one of my favorite authors, in fact. Horror isn't my favorite genre in the least, but I love his writing. He creates these characters who seem so real and are so fascinating, especially as he shows them in some of their darkest or most frightening and vulnerable moments. At times I've been disappointed with how he's ending his books (Needful Things, for example, was a very tense story full of interesting characters, and I just was not satisfied with the ending in the least), but overall I appreciate those characters and their personal stories, perhaps even more than the main plot.

In this story, he weaves those pretty well. Trisha is a 9-year-old girl, kind of a "tom-boy," you might say, who is dealing with a lot of family shit. Nothing too unusual in itself; her parents have split up and her mom moved her and her dorky (but nice) older brother to her hometown. Her father drinks a lot (too much). The cause of the parents' split isn't clearly defined, probably because Trisha isn't totally aware of it herself, but perhaps the dad's drinking was a big factor in it. Her mom and brother fight constantly; he's a computer nerd, and in suburban Boston, that wasn't so much of an issue...in more back-woodsy New Hampshire, it is, and  he's bullied at school. Trisha's own issues seem to stem from dealing with her family's troubles; mostly, she's a cheerful, bright but not exceptional kid, who loves baseball...and has a crush on Red Sox pitcher Tom Gordon (see his picture below...he was a good-looking guy back in 1998 for sure).

One Saturday in June, Trisha and her bickering mom and brother are taking a hike in Maine. She wanders off the path to pee, and loses her way. Her initial mistakes are irritating; she ought to know that, the second you realize you're lost, you stay put, right? But as the story went on, and she wanders helplessly, staying alive but desperately looking for a way out while she is being hunted by some deadly creature, it got harder to judge her decisions as I sat comfortably on my couch. I admired her bravery in the situation, lost in the woods for nine freaking days, knowing that she was being hunted by some kind of unearthly creature (it finally manifests itself in the form of a bear, but not quite a bear; I found this ending to be somewhat appropriate, not a huge disappointment). In the end, she stood her ground and fought for her life; she did not run away. She had the guiding spirit of an imagined Tom Gordon to advise her.

Her Walkman radio, and the idea of Gordon getting to play, kept her going during the difficult, frightening, and disgusting days in the New England wilderness. That was all that she had with her, after her little Gameboy busted when she had a hard roll down a rocky slope. Though this story is fairly modern (published in 1999, one of the newer King works I've read), nowadays it wouldn't happen; a kid Trisha's age would have a Smartphone or something, and would probably get enough of a signal to be able to call for help, or use GPS, or whatever. Pretty amazing how technology has changed that much in even 15 years.

I cannot help but compare myself to Trisha. Nine years old in 1998 would make her only a year younger than I was then. Would I have been as brave as she was? Shit, I probably wouldn't be that brave even now. Then again, a person does what she has to do in order to survive, right? The book mentions at one point (I think as Trisha is wading, in her stocking feet, through a nasty muddy swamp) that human beings can adapt to anything, and I've heard that before. And I guess its true.

As far as Stephen King books go, this one is probably the shortest I've ever read. It would have been nice if he'd lengthened it out just a little bit, maybe with just a small bit to show whether or not the parents get back together (they briefly reunited the night that their daughter went missing), but overall I felt like the length was appropriate. Then again, I've breezed through some hefty ones before. He writes stories of all sorts of lengths; some of his best work are his short stories and novellas (I absolutely love the collection Different Seasons, I even used a couple of the stories from that with my seniors at my last teaching job). Even though the character in this story is so young, I still think that it's mostly meant for adults, maybe young adults as well (as there is some mention of 'fucking' a child, as the police receive a false tip about Trisha being picked up by a child molester). This wasn't my favorite King novel, not by a long shot, but overall it was a pretty satisfying read. So I may have cheated a bit in the challenge, but I was craving a little Stephen King (especially after the weeks of plowing through Tolstoy). I'm still reading, and I'm still posting about it for anybody who may want to read about it (for God knows what reason), so I guess that's what matters, right?

Tom Gordon, when he played for the Red Sox. Trisha was in love with his eyes, and his "stillness" on the pitcher's mound. He did not play for Boston very long, and jumped around teams (including the Yankees, the Cubs, and the D-Backs) until his retirement in 2009.

This is how I picture a forest in New England. I guess Trisha's forest would have looked like this (without the colors, as it was late spring), lovely but deceptively treacherous.

Book #21: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest

Book #21: One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest by Ken Kesey

May 29, 2013


I have one more day left in my sub assignment, and I was at least able to make use of one book off of the regular teacher's shelf. I've had a hell of a time locating this book (as previously noted, our city's main library is still under construction...unless anything goes awry, it should be running within the next month!), so I'm glad that I had time to read this one (it's not very long, only 272 in the version I read).

So I have seen the movie, and I would consider Jack Nicholson's depiction of R.P. McMurphy, the main character in the text (though not the narrator) to be one of his best roles. I didn't see him exactly as the character in the book as I read it...I kind of more imagined Nicholson with red hair, since McMurphy is constantly being described by his red hair. Anyway, the movie is pretty different from the book, but then again, how can a film capture the mind of a crazy man?

The story is told from the perspective of Chief Bromden, a mute (at least for about 3/4 of the novel) Native American of the Columbia tribe. He's not real prominent in the movie, if I'm recalling correctly, but he's the one telling the story. He's not always a reliable narrator, as he's drugged out much of the time and often describes his hallucinations, at least during the first half of the text. How he ended up in the psychiatric hospital isn't clear, though Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after WWII would be my guess. His story itself is pretty interesting. He's had other traumas in his life, not the least of which being how his people's land was sold after the government put heavy pressure on their tribe (especially on the Chief's father, whose white wife put the screws in him as well, which led to not only the sale of the land around the falls, but also his heavy drinking problem).

Speaking of the narrator's white mother, women are not depicted in a very flattering manner in this book. There are perhaps a handful of female characters. The main female character, of course, is Miss Ratched, the controlling, emasculating head nurse. She rules her roost through manipulation and fear, and she is cool and calm...until McMurphy comes along and ruffles her feathers. Now, here's a personal reflection on this character. Having only the movie version to go off on (Louise Fletcher depicts her perfectly, though I imagined her looking a bit older than she was in the film), I used to be afraid of being a "Miss Ratched"-type teacher, a bitch, and stifling my students' creativity in my attempts to keep order in the classroom. I'll admit that at times, the structure (and a lot of the policies) of schools don't always fit with my personal philosophies. That, and the fact that I'm still without a job for next fall (I'm still in grad school, no big deal at this point) are making me question where it is that I want my career to go. Anyway...

The book gave me more insight into this character, but at the same time, presented some more questions. WHY does she have this need to control the men on her ward? It's only briefly explored amongst the characters, and some hints are dropped (I mean, she's not married...), but that's not really enough for me. What, since she's like sex-deprived, she's going to ruin people's lives? Not so sure about that one...I think there's a lot more to Miss Ratched than we know, but for the most part, this wasn't really her story. Because she's only a symbol, you see. She represents THE MAN, the oppressor, society at large that also wants to control people, mold and shape them, make them act a certain way and do certain things. And crazy people are not fitting with the mold.

The Chief bitterly refers to society as the combine. As a mixed-race individual especially, and someone who has gone through some of his experiences, he certainly doesn't have a place where he belongs. He claims that he stopped talking because nobody was listening to him. His silence made people think that he was deaf, too, and he became privy to hospital secrets...but at the same time, trapped inside his own drug-addled mind, accepting that the combine is very real, and that there's nothing he can do to fight it.

Until McMurphy, a man whose sanity or lack thereof is questionable, comes along and throws the whole neat little system out of whack. McMurphy is a schemer, a con man, and a criminal...a rapscallion, to be sure, but not a "bad" guy. The others guys on the ward take to him immediately, are drawn to his outgoing personality and his hearty laugh, when they are so incapable of laughing themselves. The other main characters, such as Harding and Billy, have interesting stories themselves. some of them involving mothers or wives (like Harding's wife, who is described as being young, big-chested, and sexy, while her husband's sexuality is more or less questionable; or Billy's mother, a "very dear friend" of Miss Ratched's, who is domineering and smothering). McMurphy, a very masculine, macho guy, is shocked that these men have allowed themselves to be run-down by a woman...especially when most of the "Acute" patients are there on a voluntary basis.

McMurphy, who reveals that he purposefully got himself committed so that he would be off of the prison work farm, challenges the reign of Miss Ratched and the "black boys" (the ward aides; the novel gets pretty racist when it comes to these guys, though you have to keep in mind that this was the '60's). In the process, he introduces high-stakes gambling and rebellious fun to the patients on the ward, and draws many of them out of themselves...including the Chief, who first talks to McMurphy in the middle of the night, then begins talking to everybody like he's done it all along.

The power struggle between Miss Ratched and McMurphy were the main focus of the film, and it's the main plot in the novel as well. The Chief takes hope in this struggle; perhaps he sees it as someone fighting against an oppressive system, and gives him the idea that he can take on the world. Though McMurphy is eventually punished for his violation of the rules (with several EST treatments, pretty gruesome, and I will say that I think it's crazy that this kind of practice is still going on), but he still keeps fighting. In his last hurrah, as depicted in the film (though it wasn't originally part of his escape plan in the book), he invites a couple of hookers to the hospital, who bring booze with them, and the "Acute" patients and the night watchman have a wild night. As in the film, when Billy is caught by Miss Ratched with one of the whores, he is so distraught at the idea of his mother finding out that he commits suicide.

The Chief's mercy killing of McMurphy and his escape are pretty much the same in the book as they are in the movie. It's unclear what will happen to the Chief next. Will he be able to live outside of the hospital (I would say yes)? But what about his mental illness? He'd stopped seeing images and hearing things so much after siding with McMurphy, and by not taking his medication any more. Was he even really that damn "crazy" in the first place? McMurphy observes at one point that the men on the ward (the functioning "Acutes" at least) don't seem very "crazy" at all. What does it mean to be "crazy" anyway?

I can't help but agree with the Chief's observations about society, and I think that's it's worse now than ever. I mean, "average" people are drugging themselves into zombies just to make it through their hum-drum lives. This book definitely presents some interesting, existential-type questions, and being at such a critical sort of crossroads in my life, I'm afraid that some of these are questions that I will have to explore further.

Louise Fletcher as Miss Ratched in the 1975 film. She's a stone-cold bitch...and the craziest one of the entire bunch.

Ken Kesey's famous bus "Furthur." You know who was a frequent driver of that bus? Neal Cassady!

Book #20: Anna Karenina

Book #20: Anna Karenina by Leo Tolstoy (translated by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky)

May 20, 2013


Obviously, it took me a while to get through this monster of a text. I don't think that a month and a half is too bad, considering that Anna Karenina was published as a series of chapters in newspapers, over the course of about four years (the actual timeframe of the book is about half that). The edition that I read has 817 pages, and it is a large book...with considerably small text. I got into it, whenever I did have the chance to sit down and read it, but lately I have been working more than usual (fingers crossed: a sub assignment could lead to a permanent one...will know for sure on that one in just a few days!), and finishing up my semester (only a month-long break from school now until my summer classes!). I have been busy, so I'm glad that I've made at least some time to get some reading done (which is really the whole point of this whole exercise). And for the most part, I really enjoyed reading what Tolstoy referred to as his "first real novel."

A note on the translation: apparently, this husband-and-wife duo (he from the US, she Russian) have won awards for this edition, and I think I can understand why. I found the language to be accessible, but the characters were certainly portrayed with the complexity that I think Tolstoy had in mind. This story is full of interesting characters, and the title character's story is only one of many stories interwoven here...and one of two main stories.

I admit, besides viewing it through a feminist frame, I didn't find Anna's story to be quite as interesting as others. If anything, I was more interested in her scorned husband, Karenin. I'll note here that in Russian society at that time, people referred to one another typically by their first names and their middle names, which are some derivation of their father's first names (feminized for women). I was watching a marathon of Freaks and Geeks on IFC this past weekend, and a 9th grade student, Sam, had been assigned to read War and Peace for his English class (psychotic). When his dad asked him how it was, he said something like, "All their names are really long and weird." That's about the extent of it, and I had to refer to the character guide that the translators kindly provided frequently for about the first third of the book, especially since Tolstoy switches up how he references them. For simplicity's sake, I'll refer to men by their last names, and women by their first names (or titles).

Of note on titles: princes and princesses were much more common in Russian at this time than in more Western monarchies. Remember that the czar was the ruler, before the revolution (is that the revolution that is hinted at in the text? I don't know...), and communism and all that. Princes and princesses were as common as, say, lords and ladies in England. The title did mean certain social privileges, but not necessarily wealth (Oblonsky and his wife Dolly, who have many children and are in terrible debt due to his irresponsible spending and their vast expenses, are a good example of this). When reading about the sharp divide in the classes (muzhiks seem to be the common workers, probably the former serfs of Russia, who live and work and just exist while the upper class, be they wealthy or in terrible debt, live comfortable lives of leisure), it's understandable that a revolution would happen there. At one point, Levin, a character who interested me probably more than any of the others, questions his own place in the upper class, though, as someone with whom he is debating points out, he is not eager to give up his wealth and join them. I like Levin for the most part, but his frequent contradictions grew frustrating (though I guess that was Tolstoy's build-up to what was ultimately his spiritual clarity at the end of the novel).

Okay, so here's an overview of Anna's plot. At the start of the book, she is the wife of a successful government official, Karenin. She has a son whom she loves very much (or at least claims to). She is very popular in society, and is very charming; Kitty, who is infatuated with Vronsky at this time, quickly becomes enamored with the slightly older woman. But then, Anna falls in love with Vronsky, and they begin an affair; when Vronsky follows Anna back to St. Petersburg (or Moscow, I had a hard time keeping track of which city the characters were in some of the time), and they have the affair in a way that is obvious to the people around them. Karenin is humiliated, but I felt that he was genuinely hurt by his wife's betrayal. His inner dialogue conveyed an effort to mask his hurt with indignation. The affair soon comes out in the open, and Anna, pregnant with Vronsky's child, runs off with him. Her husband does become a laughing-stock in society, but her situation seems to be worse; she is isolated. Vronsky is not; though he is the other half of the liaison, he was not married, and he had not abandoned a family. When he continues to live the social life of a bachelor, while leaving her at home, she becomes more and more jealous. Anna's jealousy of Vronsky tears her apart; she begins using opium to calm her nerves (she's an addict; she lies about how often she uses it), and picks fights with her lover constantly. He wants her to get a divorce from her husband so that they can be married, but her cuckolded husband, by the influence of a hypocritical Christian noblewoman and a false seer, refuses. Anna, believing that Vronsky plans to leave her all alone, and feeling guilt-ridden over abandoning her son (and knowing that she does not love her baby daughter, Vronsky's child), she kills herself by throwing herself under a train.

About half of Anna's story is the downfall of the relationship. Of course it was meant to be doomed. Not that the characters necessarily deserved it, in my opinion. Had they all been allowed to move on, they would have come out all right. I especially felt for Karenin, who was so easily swayed by the repulsive Countess Lydia, who preaches gospel to others and is constantly passing judgement, and is the chief instigator of the separation of Anna from her son. She cruelly tells the boy that her mother is dead, but he sees her again once after that...talk about traumatizing. Anna had been disgusted by her husband's weakness, and he certainly does seem to be weak. He is determined in his work, and proud of his accomplishments and titles, but when it comes to his personal life, he's pretty pathetic. And Anna becomes pathetic as well.

In the end, Anna and Vronsky's child goes to live with Karenin, since, by Russian law, his wife's child is legally his as well. Vronsky, in grief, did not fight it, and was gearing up to go to war against the Turks, in retaliation for a genocide against the Slavic peoples. His fate is left to be pondered by the reader. Does he die? Does he return home a decorated hero, and marry a woman whom his mother has chosen for him? He really loved Anna, and though his weariness of her accusations was expressed  in his thoughts, he never seriously considered breaking things off with her. She wanted him to admire and worship her like he had been they'd first became lovers, but that's not how relationships work. In the end, Anna was basically a spoiled brat who didn't know how to deal.

Her brother might be described the same way, though he does not wallow in despair. On the contrary, Oblonsky is a happy-go-lucky kind of guy. People like him...women like him quite a bit. He is a frequent adulterer, and not at all repentant. He gets to go on living his life, socializing and loving and being with his wife and children, he can have it all because he's a man. His sister suffers for the same crime (though with one man, out of something like love, rather than with many out of lust). Oblonsky is a despicable character in many ways, with his irresponsible behavior and his neglect of his wife and many children, and his philandering ways. Dolly, his long-suffering wife, was threatening to leave him at the beginning of the book, and Anna, who would not long after begin her own affair, had come to talk her out of it. Dolly again considers leaving her husband closer to the end of the book, but she doesn't do it...at least, she hasn't by the time the story ends. She probably won't, since she could see how much suffering leaving her husband had caused her sister-in-law.

Kitty and Levin's story, which I found the more interesting of the two main stories, was interwoven loosely with Anna's story throughout the novel. At the beginning of the book, Levin, a somewhat wealthy farm owner and member of high society, is eager for Kitty's hand in marriage. Kitty is Dolly's sister. Kitty is in love with Vronsky, and Levin is humiliated when Kitty refuses his proposal. But then, Vronsky runs after Anna and leaves Kitty scorned and humiliated. Apparently Kitty can't deal with it, and her health suffers, forcing her to go abroad (her encounters with other characters are noted; she comes across Levin's own terminally ill brother, a curmudgeon without his brother's sense of direction). Though Levin lives purposefully (running his farm more or less successfully, along with his household, and maintaining his social connections and acting as a sort of local leader for the muzhik workers in the area), he does feel aimless, particularly after the death of this brother (who died not long after Levin and Kitty's reunion and subsequent marriage). Levin is often insecure, very proud, intelligent, but he definitely has his own interests (for example, though he has many opinions about farming that are learned and practiced, he does not take enough interest in politics to understand the nuances of it). I found myself connecting more with him than with any other character in the book, though as I previously noted, I could not agree with some of his often contradictory opinions.

Tolstoy shows the thoughts of his characters, and sometimes (particularly for Anna or Levin), in a stream-of-consciousness sort of style. That can be hard to follow sometimes, although Anna's thoughts tended to become repetitive: he doesn't love me anymore, blah blah blah. Levin suffers from an existential crisis after the death of his brother, even as he gets married to the woman he's loved for so long, and has a lovely little child (whom he first pities more than loves). At the end of the book, he has a kind of spiritual reawakening or something. I can't get too much into religious stuff; Levin begins stacking up the teachings of the Church (in his case, Eastern Orthodox) with his new understanding of God and the necessity of good in humanity, and he finds that they match up. I don't believe that about organized religion nowadays. I don't think that I suffer from any sort of spiritual crisis. I know what I believe, I know what I have faith in, and it certainly has nothing to do with any man-made conventions. But for Levin, his realizations, along with the fact that he has a pretty damn good life to begin with, brings him inner peace, and that's good. Anna didn't have inner peace, obviously. Perhaps Tolstoy was trying to get a religious message across; as I write this, I haven't really looked up much on the author himself, so I don't know how uber-religious he was. That's kind of how it comes across. I do applaud his portrayal of Countess Lydia as a hypocritical Christian...what kind of Christian believes a "clairvoyant," anyway? Hello, isn't that, like, witchcraft or something? She was just an idiot...and startlingly, a very powerful person in society.

Levin realizes, with his new spiritual realizations, that he hasn't fully developed as a person. He still has his faults, but he has a lot of good things going on as well. But what I think is most important is, he is moving on from the sadness of his past, the loss of his brother, and his mother before. He is focusing on what's important: his family, whom  he loves very much and is faithful to (he refuses to go cavorting among young farm girls with Oblonsky and another guest when they are on a hunting trip, and he soon after kicks the guy out of his house); his work, which is important to him; helping Dolly and his wife's family, whom he has come to embrace, even though they crowded in on his quiet country life. Levin was always the example of an upstanding man, even before he embraced the teachings of the Church.

Anna, in contrast, could not move on from the past, nor could her husband, and that is what made them tragic figures. Oblonsky, though he makes many mistakes, always looks ahead (or at least, lives in the present), and so he avoids tragedy...at least, for the time being. That's one powerful message that I'm taking away from many of the books I've read so far, that allowing the past to dictate what you do or how you feel is a deadly mistake, and that the only way to be happy is to forgive yourself, forgive others, and move on. Levin got over his pride at avoiding Kitty after she rejected him, and they eventually got back together. Just goes to show...

A picture meant to represent the title character. Kiera Knightly recently played Anna in a film version, but I didn't hear great things about that one...

9th graders don't like reading Tolstoy.