Reading for the Rest of the Year: Literary Fete Sauvage

I am about to embark on a literary fete savauge, away from all and mentally remote in enchanted woods.  I've only experienced this once before--my two favorite literary figures having works published close to one another. The first time it was the year in which Paul Auster and Haruki Murakami both published within weeks of each other (at that, Murakami had two books published that year).  And now this new experience... I am going to relish this, every delicious page by page... hopefully, I'll be done by December 31st because I suspect my Reading List for 2011 will not wait.

Lost in Place

I've lost so much in the last month that it is nearly incomprehensible to me how I've managed. In the same token, I now have time to finish several of my projects that I have been ignoring for the better part of two years. I've finished another Moleskine notebook, and I continue to write every day a minimum of two hours. The diaries of Christopher Isherwood are driving me insane, really, in a good way. I knew starting off that the task of reading this massive volume was going to be a tough going, but after 580 pages, and as I am starting to see the end of the tunnel, I feel rather prematurely nostalgic about what I am going to miss from reading this book. First of all, Isherwood's voice--it comes clean and loud through all of his writing (even the most mundane entries). Also, there's a great deal of detail about addresses of places he frequented; I am now one of those who "Google Earth" every address I find in any of the books I am reading. It's a sickness, I tell you, researching this so obsessively. I still have 400 pages to go, but I may have to put it aside and read some short fiction. All of this non-fiction reading has given me a metaphorical headache. And to think that I had proposed for next year to read only biographies! I better rethink that, pronto.

I am taking a short detour to re-read Alexander Solzhenitsyn's "One Day in the Life of Ivan Denisovich" because and simply because I want to. The weather has been terrible here for almost a month--cloudy and raining all of the time, with only sporadic cameo appearances by the sun that last less than 15 minutes. Solzhenitsyn's little masterpiece is as short as Isherwood's diaries are long, so I won't be away without an entry for as long as I have been lately.

I want to thank all of those who have sent me an electronic mail to wish me well. I have printed all (every single one) of those notes and I've placed them in a prominent place on my desk. Really, thank you from the bottom of my heart! I'll never forget all of your kindness.

Literary Detours: Christopher Isherwood's Diaries

I find myself again and again lost in this massive volume. Isherwood's diaries are endless; one thinks of this man's habitual compulsion to write, and how we all now benefit from his insight in life, love, politics, and the Hollywood world. His insight into Vedanta and other Hindu mysticism is quire remarkable for the time he writes. Right now, "I am a Camera" has really taken off, and Isherwood, for probably the first time in his life, feels financially secure. How did these people live, I keep asking myself. Things have changed now, I suppose, but back then meaning you could depend on your friends was something far more significant than it is today.

The last installment of "Farewell to the Academy" might come this way even earlier than first anticipated. Who knows what will happen. These are very confused now, and I feel like I am living inside a Roque Dalton poem.

Literary Detours: The Diaries of Christopher Isherwood, Volume 001

I have no idea what prompted me to pick up this massive volume. Perhaps I was just due for a literary detour. "The Diaries of Christopher Isherwood, Volume One, 1939-1960" is full of literary gossip, but it is also an insightful look at the seminal moment of Hindu belief in America and its development from the ground up. Isherwood was among the many writers and actors in Hollywood to embrace Hinduism (Vedanta) back in the late 1930s and 1940s. It's amazing to see the quantity (and quality) of Isherwood's writing. This man wrote like every day was his last day on earth. If you are asking yourself, "where have I heard that name before?" you are not alone. Isherwood is the author of many novels and essays. His most memorable is "Berlin Stories" which was essentially turned into the musical "Cabaret." These diary entries are edited by Katherine Bucknell; she does an excellent job of keeping private those entries that might have revealed a bit too much of Isherwood's personal and intimate moments without losing the central idea of the man's genius. Sure, he was already in his mid forties and dating 19 year old young men, but who wasn't back in the Hollywood of those days. Isherwood was intensely frightful of war in general, so it came as no surprise that he took a conscientious objector status even before Pearl Harbor. Being a British subject at the time, he could have been called back home to fight. Luckily, that was not the case, and Isherwood spent the war years writing for MGM on a part-time basis, volunteering in a Quaker camp, and meditating the years away under the guidance of his guru, Swami Prabhavananda. Much is said regarding Aldous Huxley, Gerald Heard, Thomas Mann, Charlie Chaplin, Greta Garbo, W.H. Auden, among many, many others. I don't think Isherwood is just merely dropping names here; he's really got a handle on these people and depicts them clearly and with insight.

If you checked out the link you'll know that this is a 1,047 page chunkler. Somehow, I just found myself past page 300 within the first few days, and even though it is not part of my designated reading list books for 2009, I am going to press on and eventually finish it. The glossary, notes and other index goodies can't be past over without missing much. More on this later.

Finish the second of my "Writing" books. I read Ann Hood's "Creating Character Emotions." It was a very good and instructive book, but I think I often take advice on writing too literally, and eventually work myself into a corner with little options, so I have to learn how to moderate this.

I have a rant coming on "the American Short Story" and the genius that is Kevin Canty. Believe me, you will not want to miss that one.