A Prayer for Owen Meany is a book I was ashamed not to have read. I picked it up several times, started it, and did not continue with it. I've read a great deal of Irving's work, and so my seeming inability to read this particular story I found both embarrassing and puzzling.
So, finally, I just read the damn thing.
And of course I liked it a great deal.
Perhaps most problematic was that I knew too much about the plot and characters prior to reading the novel. Everyone (as in every reader) I know has read it--LOVED IT--has imitated Owen's voice for me--and then has lamented the pain that he/she felt at Owen's untimely death. Sometimes people have even felt the need to tell me where they were when they read the book--as if it was such a seminal, pivotal, profound book that it warranted such remembrance.
Perhaps it was my previous knowledge of the book, then, and my knowledge as to how much it has moved other readers, that caused me to remain so very unmoved as I read the book. I knew Owen would die--of course I did--and not simply because so many people had already told me he died. Irving puts his death out there practically on the first page, and you simply wait out the novel until he finally does die. I knew he would die in a way that the book didn't quite foreshadow (as in in Arizona in an airport bathroom as opposed to in a village in Vietnam). It was the only amount of unpredictability that the book had left to offer.
It seems to me that the worth of Owen Meany lies in how it grapples with the issue of faith and purpose. My problem--I have little faith, and I struggle daily with having purpose. Maybe, then, this should be the book for me. Except I'm too jaded for it to be the book for me. Owen's faith is ... stupid.
Okay. I said it. Stupid! And sure, there are reasons for his unshakeable and fatalistic belief. But I thought his intelligence at odds with this faith. Owen was psychic. I'm not sure why that also makes him a believer.
I did enjoy the novel. But I did not love it like I thought I would; like countless others have said I would. I have never read reviews of the book, and when I did, after finishing it, what a surprise to realize the book was NOT in fact, reviewed well at all! A few A-s... but mostly pans. Interesting. And yet it is considered a modern classic, isn't it? Why did I think this? Can I even count this book toward my Classics goal?
Ah well... I will anyway. One down. 99 to go.
Friday, November 30, 2012
Thursday, November 15, 2012
The Classics Club
I'm somewhat of a school addict. If I could take on as my permanent job that of STUDENT, I would be quite pleased. Being a student is actually similar to being a triathlete in training.
When training, you are working toward something great. You are working toward betterment, toward achievement, toward glory, toward greatness. Your training has a purpose outside of just being a way to keep thin, to keep in shape, to stave off mortality. Being a student is similar. Your reading, writing and insight have purpose when you are taking a class. They are attached to a goal--that of getting a good grade and that of being more articulate, better read and more knowledgeable than Bob who is sitting next to you in class.
A grade--A race. Same idea.
I get to work toward something--and that thing, though contrived, is also real. You really do compete in a race; you really do receive a grade. Once that carrot (the race/the grade) is taken from me, however, my effort seems without purpose--just a silly self-indulgence. Of course, you and I both know that even attached to a race or a grade, training and reading/writing is just as much a form of self indulgence. I'm not out to better the world; I'm out to "better" (read indulge) me. I could get all nihilist on you and explain how since the world is inherently devoid of meaning except that which I ascribe to it, I need these contrivances to get me up in the morning. But that's probably a bit much for 11:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning.
Anyway. Often in the off season I start hankering for goals. Usually this results in me starting a bunch of big projects that I can't execute properly once my training and racing picks up again. Nevertheless, I can't seem to help myself. This week, after my work and short workouts were done, I spent time building a list of classic literature I want to read in the next five years. I've set goals like this before (that is, to read a set amount of a type of literature in a prescribed period of time), but, as explained earlier, when the goal isn't attached to something outside of me--like a race or a grade--I have trouble sticking with it. But this time... this time I found something--a lovely contrivance to keep me working! I am joining a blogger group called The Classics Club. On it you post a list of the 50+ plus classics you plan to read in the next five years. As you read through the list, you blog about each book. Here is my list.
I did something similar to this in my late 20s. I didn't join a group, but I did make a list of classics I wanted to read. These classics had to have had movie versions made of them, however. I'd finish a classic and then reward myself by viewing the movie. I remember I made Andy watch all the movies with me. At the time I kept a journal of my thoughts--whether the movie did justice to the book, or not. I'll be damned if I can find the journal now, of course. Another awesome project alive only in my brain... and not on paper.
Even when you have written or photographic evidence of a successful project, it still really only exists in your brain as a fragmented and imperfect memory.
I'm posting this in my reading blog, where I will detail my classics reading, and on my tri blog just IN CASE any of you triathletes are also closet classics lovers and want to journey over to Reading It to read about my adventures in Classics reading.
I finished Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meaning this week. Can you believe I hadn't read that one? I know. Me too. I loved it... but honestly I loved Cider House and Garp more. Owen slides into the number 3 spot of best loved Irving books for me. I also just finished Tom Perrotta's The Leftovers. You know, I really did NOT think I would like that one. The premise, that a huge portion of the world population vanishes into apocalyptic air, irritated me. Was this going to be like Left Behind? But I knew Perrotta does not espouse any one particular religious view, so my curiosity was peaked. The novel is more of a character study -- imagining how individuals would respond in the wake of an apocalyptic occurrence.
Okay, triathletes. Enough on books.
Next post will be back to our regularly scheduled programming.
One point five weeks until I begin actual TRAINING again!
When training, you are working toward something great. You are working toward betterment, toward achievement, toward glory, toward greatness. Your training has a purpose outside of just being a way to keep thin, to keep in shape, to stave off mortality. Being a student is similar. Your reading, writing and insight have purpose when you are taking a class. They are attached to a goal--that of getting a good grade and that of being more articulate, better read and more knowledgeable than Bob who is sitting next to you in class.
A grade--A race. Same idea.
I get to work toward something--and that thing, though contrived, is also real. You really do compete in a race; you really do receive a grade. Once that carrot (the race/the grade) is taken from me, however, my effort seems without purpose--just a silly self-indulgence. Of course, you and I both know that even attached to a race or a grade, training and reading/writing is just as much a form of self indulgence. I'm not out to better the world; I'm out to "better" (read indulge) me. I could get all nihilist on you and explain how since the world is inherently devoid of meaning except that which I ascribe to it, I need these contrivances to get me up in the morning. But that's probably a bit much for 11:00 a.m. on a Wednesday morning.
Anyway. Often in the off season I start hankering for goals. Usually this results in me starting a bunch of big projects that I can't execute properly once my training and racing picks up again. Nevertheless, I can't seem to help myself. This week, after my work and short workouts were done, I spent time building a list of classic literature I want to read in the next five years. I've set goals like this before (that is, to read a set amount of a type of literature in a prescribed period of time), but, as explained earlier, when the goal isn't attached to something outside of me--like a race or a grade--I have trouble sticking with it. But this time... this time I found something--a lovely contrivance to keep me working! I am joining a blogger group called The Classics Club. On it you post a list of the 50+ plus classics you plan to read in the next five years. As you read through the list, you blog about each book. Here is my list.
I did something similar to this in my late 20s. I didn't join a group, but I did make a list of classics I wanted to read. These classics had to have had movie versions made of them, however. I'd finish a classic and then reward myself by viewing the movie. I remember I made Andy watch all the movies with me. At the time I kept a journal of my thoughts--whether the movie did justice to the book, or not. I'll be damned if I can find the journal now, of course. Another awesome project alive only in my brain... and not on paper.
Even when you have written or photographic evidence of a successful project, it still really only exists in your brain as a fragmented and imperfect memory.
I'm posting this in my reading blog, where I will detail my classics reading, and on my tri blog just IN CASE any of you triathletes are also closet classics lovers and want to journey over to Reading It to read about my adventures in Classics reading.
I finished Irving's A Prayer for Owen Meaning this week. Can you believe I hadn't read that one? I know. Me too. I loved it... but honestly I loved Cider House and Garp more. Owen slides into the number 3 spot of best loved Irving books for me. I also just finished Tom Perrotta's The Leftovers. You know, I really did NOT think I would like that one. The premise, that a huge portion of the world population vanishes into apocalyptic air, irritated me. Was this going to be like Left Behind? But I knew Perrotta does not espouse any one particular religious view, so my curiosity was peaked. The novel is more of a character study -- imagining how individuals would respond in the wake of an apocalyptic occurrence.
Okay, triathletes. Enough on books.
Next post will be back to our regularly scheduled programming.
One point five weeks until I begin actual TRAINING again!
My Classics Book List
I've read several of these before. My rule is that I cannot have read the book within the last 20 years.
- A Backward Glance, Edith Wharton
- Ghost Stories, Edith Wharton
- The Warden, Anthony Trollope
- Barchester Towers, Anthony Trollope
- First Love, Ivan Turgenev
- Slaughterhouse Five, Kurt Vonnegut
- Agnes Grey, Anne Bronte
- The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
- Lady Audley's Secret, Mary Elizabeth Braddon
- Villette, Charlotte Bronte
- The Good Earth, Pearl Buck
- The Woman in White, Wilkie Collins
- Bleak House, Charles Dickens
- Little Dorrit, Charles Dickens
- Nicholas Nickelby, Charles Dickens
- Hard Times, Charles Dickens
- The Fountainhead, Ayn Rand
- Atlas Shrugged, Ayn Rand
- Clarissa, Samuel Richardson
- Housekeeping, Marilynne Robinson
- The Satanic Verses, Salman Rushdie
- The Mysteries of Udolpho, Anne Radcliffe
- The Brothers Karamazov, Fyodor Dostoevesky
- Crime and Punishment, Fyodor Dostoevesky
- Excellent Women, Barbara Pym
- The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath
- The Journals of Sylvia Plath, Sylvia Plath
- Sister Carrie, Theodore Dreiser
- Daniel Deronda, George Eliot
- Castle Rackrent, Maria Edgeworth
- The Mill on the Floss, George Eliot
- Lolita, Vladimir Nabokov
- North and South, Elizabeth Gaskell
- Fidelity, Susan Glaspell
- Brighton Rock, Graham Greene
- The Heart of the Matter, Graham Greene
- Far from The Madding Crowd, Thomas Hardy
- Lady Chatterly's Lover, D.H. Lawrence
- The Turn of the Screw, Henry James
- The Aspern Papers, Henry James
- Portrait of a Lady, Henry James
- The Wings of the Dove, Henry James
- Catch 22, Joseph Heller
- The Man in the Iron Mask, Alexandre Dumas
- East of Eden, John Steinbeck
- A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius, David Eggers
- The Stand, Stephen King
- Tropic of Cancer, Henry Miller
- The Haunting of Hill House, Shirley Jackson
- A Walker in the City, Alfred Kazin
- Memories of a Catholic Girlhood, Mary McCarthy
- Stop-Time, Frank Conroy
- One Flew Over the Cuckoo's Nest, Ken Kesey
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