Year in Review

The next few entries will be a sort of blog diary -- of interest only to me, perhaps. I kept track of things I did that related to writing. Reading is a big part of what writers do, so I kept track of the books I read. Here goes . . .

When the year started, I was reading Jame Joyce's Ulysses, which I finished in June. I knew I had read something important and big, though I also knew that I had missed much of it.

In February, for a class I was team-teaching at Delta, I read Mitch Albom's For One More Day, which was more tolerable than I thought it would be.

In January I finished Benjamin Percy's The Language of Elk, a collection of short stories that were mostly good.

In June, also for a class I was teaching, I read Ken Kesey's One Flew Over the Cuckoos Nest, which never leaves me wanting. If you haven't read it, give it a shot.

Also in June I read Ron Carlson's new novel, Five Skies. It was a birthday gift from Josh Maday, and I appreciated his remembering that I love Carlson's short stories. I wish I appreciated the writing as much I appreciated the thoughtfulness of the gift. Much of what makes Carlson's short stories work just doesn't play out well in the longer form. Sorry, Mr. Carlson. If I had to, I would give it three stars.

In July I read Jack Kerouac's Visions of Gerard, which was really quite touching -- very different from the more beatish stuff.

In July I also read Thomas McGuane's short story collection, Gallatin Canyon. Somebody sold me on this one much too strongly, and I was left disappointed. The longer short stories were tedious, and I can't honestly remember many of the shorter stories, which says something. To end on a positive note, I will say that the story "Old Friends" was quite good and dealt with the way "old friends" can creep back into our lives. Once we let people in, they own a part of us.

In August, I read Sundog by Jim Harrison, partly because someone had compared it to my novel. It was good, though I think, like many of his contemporaries, Harrison is a little sex obsessed. The sex scenes felt adolescent, though I do remember liking the complexity of the book.

Without a doubt, the surprise of the summer was Jerry Dennis' non-fiction book The Living Great Lakes. What a beautiful, fascinating tribute to these waters that surround us. I can give it a very truthful five stars.

In August, while down in Alabama, I read Animal Farm by George Orwell. I'm embarrassed to say that I'd never read it before. I don't think I'm the first person to say that it's a masterpiece.

Also in August I read Marquez's In Evil Hour, which is a novel that predates One Hundred Years of Solitude. I really enjoyed the feel of this book and the rich mix of characters. Certainly deserving of at least four stars.

In September, I started Joyce's Ulysses again.

In October, I read Animal Farm aloud to my eight-year-old son. It's really amazing what children can grasp if given the chance. Early on, I asked my son what he thought the pigs would do, and he said, "They're going to take over the farm." I love that kid.

Tonight, I finished Ulysses for the second time this year. The second time through is most certainly better. I'm not sure we've invented words yet to describe the genius of such a book. Tough read? Yes. Worth it? Yes.

I only hope next year offers as productive of a reading year.