Friday Reads: Have I Told You This Already?

This week's Friday Reads is a Friday Listen! Kelly has been listening to the audiobook of Lauren Graham's Have I Told You This Already?: Stories I Don't Want to Forget to Remember, which is read by the fast-talking author.

Most people would probably recognize Lauren Graham, though where they know her from may depend on how old they are. Some people would recognize her as one of Jerry's many brief girlfriends from Seinfeld; others know her best from Parenthood. She's been in a few movies and currently stars in The Mighty Ducks: Game Changers on Disney+. I, personally, will always think of her as Lorelai Gilmore.

Before she hit the small and silver screens, Graham majored in English, and it shows in her writing. (She also has an MFA in acting.) She's written both a novel and a previous book of memoir-ish essays. For the first 45 minutes or so of this audiobook, I couldn't help comparing this installment unfavorably to Talking as Fast as I Can, but it has now definitely hit its stride. Graham tells us more stories of how she worked her way up through small theatre productions, commercial gigs, and bit parts to achieve her current semi-celebrity status.

Because the sense you get from this book is that she is a "semi-celebrity." She shops and dines in the same places as Gwen Stefani and Ryan Reynolds, but she never loses her sense of wonder that she is there. She is also happy to be our informant "on the inside," spilling secrets about awards-shows arrival times and Hollywood hierarchies. She may not move in the same circles as the A-listers, but she's an old hand in the industry and seems to genuinely enjoy her job -- and to view it as just that, a job, though one with unusual and often really cool benefits.

I'd recommend reading or listening to her first book of essays, Talking as Fast as I Can, before this one. Each can stand alone, but Have I Told You This Already often assumes that the reader is familiar with stories and bits from the first book.

Friday Reads: Babylon's Ashes

Happy Friday! If you've had quite enough of Earth for the time being, why not escape into "The Expanse" with Adam's Friday Reads, Babylon's Ashes by James S. A. Corey?

Babylon's Ashes is the sixth book in the sci-fi adventure series The Expanse, the source material for the recent SYFY/Prime original series of the same title. The series is set a few centuries in the future, after humans have settled throughout the solar system, having colonized the Moon, Mars, and the Asteroid belt. By this point in the series, alien technology has also allowed humans to journey to the far reaches of the galaxy through interstellar ring gates, colonizing planets in distant solar systems and discovering new sources of vital resources. Militant citizens of the Asteroid belt (so-called "Belters"), tired of being exploited by the "Inners" of Earth and Mars, have launched a devastating attack against Earth, leading to an all-out war for survival and control of our solar system's dwindling resources. And right in the middle, as always, is Captain James Holden and his crew, the central characters in the series, who must navigate the perilous space between all of these warring factions.

The series is exciting and superbly written, with storylines touching on science, politics, medicine, religion, philosophy, business, and many other areas. One of the things I appreciate most about the series is how clearly the authors (Daniel Abraham and Ty Franck writing together under a joint pen name) define the stakes for each of the warring groups, especially the Belters. They've been exploited and marginalized for generations by Earth and Mars, and now that humans have begun colonizing other solar systems, the resources from the Belt may no longer be needed, potentially leaving the Belters without an economic base. And Belters can't pack up and find a new home on a distant planet, because most of them can't survive in the gravity of a planetary surface when their bodies have adapted physiologically to Belter life in low or no gravity. Even if you don't agree with the actions of their charismatic leader, Marco Inaros, you can't help but feel sympathy for their cause.

Library Newsletter, Spring 2023

 The Spring 2023 Library Newsletter for faculty and staff is available now!

Check it out here. 

Have a great weekend -- we'll see you on Tuesday!

Friday Reads: PCC: The Car that Fought Back

Dr. Stanley has an impressive collection of trolley/streetcar books, and today he tells us about one of them: PCC: The Car That Fought Back by Stephen P. Carlson, Fred W. Schneider III.

I recently had a reference question that dealt with a hobby of mine: streetcars (or trolleys). It’s
been a while since I looked through my collection but it made me remember how people got
from one place to another before cars. Trolleys were the mode of transportation for most people
to get to work, to shop, to visit friends or relatives. As cars became more affordable to the middle
class the trolley systems were dismantled just about everywhere. In a last-ditch effort to halt the
migration to cars and buses the PCC, or Presidents’ Conference Committee car, was designed. It
proved to be a saving grace for a few of the cities that used them. But since time marches on
their use continued to dwindle. Interestingly enough, many cities are now looking back to
installing trolley lines as a 21st century mode of public transportation. The pendulum swings both
ways!

Friday Reads: House of Leaves

You can't accuse Adam of backing down from a reading challenge! For this installment of Friday Reads, he tells us about another ambitious book, Mark Z. Danielewski's House of Leaves, and what makes it so unique and worth the effort. 

How to describe this book? It's an experimental novel, wholly unlike any work of fiction I've ever read. I chose it because I was looking for something scary to read in the run-up to Halloween, and while this book is certainly an unsettling work of horror, it's so much more than that, and I didn't realize how truly unusual this reading experience would be. After tackling War and Peace over the summer, and now this book (which, like War and Peace, also weighs a TON), I can say this has been a year when I've definitely challenged myself as a reader.

It's difficult to summarize the story of House of Leaves, due to its multiple layers of narrative, but I'll do my best. The premise of the book is that Los Angeles resident Johnny Truant discovered a manuscript in a trunk in the apartment of a recently deceased, elderly blind man named Zampano, and Truant ended up piecing it together and sending it off to be published. The manuscript, written by Zampano, is an academic treatise about a documentary called The Navidson Record, a film which was edited together from video footage by photographer Will Navidson after he and his family moved into a house in rural Virginia with, shall we say, strange properties. The dimensions of the inside of the house are larger than those of the outside, and when a dark corridor mysteriously appears off of one living room wall, leading into an unending, pitch-black labyrinth of corridors and massive chambers, a team is brought in to explore this impossible space, with deadly consequences. The catch, as Truant explains in his introduction to the manuscript, is that he can find no evidence this film or the Navidson family ever existed, in spite of the manuscript's extensive footnotes referencing scores of books, journal articles, magazine articles about the film, all of which are also sources that may not exist. Zampano's text and its footnotes are supplemented by Truant's own interjectory footnotes, through which we learn about Truant's life and personal history, and his increasing obsession with Zampano's manuscript. It is these two narratives, the story of The Navidson Record, as told by Zampano, and Johnny's story, that are woven together in the book, along with the hundreds of footnotes (many of which have their own footnotes) and lengthy appendices. The book even has an index.

It's such a high-concept piece of writing, often leading the reader down rabbit holes of footnotes and appendices that last for pages and pages. What makes the book even more unique is that this unusual narrative structure is paired with an array of inventive formal choices in the way the text is printed on the page. The word "house" is printed in blue ink, even on the book's cover. There are variations in the typography and spacing in many passages, with some pages only containing a single word or even one letter of a word. Text is sometimes printed diagonally, vertically, in a spiral, or even in reverse. There is one passage that is printed backwards, so you need a reflective surface to read it. While most novels can be seen as escapist, allowing you to lose yourself in the story, House of Leaves constantly pulls you out of the narrative and calls attention to the book's form. The author makes you work for it.

And yet, I've found it to be a very rewarding reading experience. This book has been billed as horror, but it's so much more than that. There is certainly a lot of uncanny stuff happening, but there's also an affecting love story with Navidson and his partner, Karen, and sometimes the book even feels like a satire of academic writing. There's so much happening, and some questions go unanswered. It's a challenging book to read, but well worth it.

Friday Reads: The Year of Living Danishly

Happy Friday! And if you're looking for ways to make all of your days a bit happier, Kelly's current read, The Year of Living Danishly by Helen Russell, attempts to dissect the contributing factors to Denmark's famed happiness. 

I don't remember what caught my attention about this book, but it was evidently enough that I downloaded it from the public library. I enjoy learning about different cultures through the eyes of long-term visitors, and the writer of this book (Helen Russell) is a London native who moved to a remote area of Denmark for a year so her husband could pursue a dream opportunity at Lego. As a freelance lifestyle writer, she knew that Denmark regularly ranks as the world's happiest nation, and she wanted to take an up-close look at the aspects of Danish life that contribute to this contentment. 

The author's time in Denmark begins, inauspiciously, in January. Russell is horrified by the "baltic" temperatures, which made me feel smug after I converted the numbers to Fahrenheit. The Danish are all holed up at home with their families and friends at this time of year, doing hygge things. She and her husband gradually learn more about their adopted land, furnish their rented home, and have an unfortunate run-in with the neighbors over recycling protocols. 

Russell terms her year in Denmark her "Danish happiness project." Though I don't think she references it by title, this book is clearly inspired by and patterned after Gretchen Rubin's The Happiness Project. Each month of her year is devoted to learning about and experimenting with one particular aspect of Danish life and culture. January, for instance, delves into the concept of hygge and the impact of interior design. In February, she looks at corporate cultures and workplace expectations. In March, she explores the importance Danes place on being involved in clubs. 

I doubt this book is going to be lifechanging for most, but it's an easy read and gives a glimpse into life in a country most of us probably know little about. 

Friday Reads: Pachinko

It's been a minute since our last Friday Reads post, but we haven't forgotten! Today, Adam tells us about Pachinko by Min Jin Lee and reflects on learning through historical fiction. 

One of the things I like about reading historical fiction, especially historical fiction written by authors from other parts of the world, is that I often learn for the first time about historical events that occurred outside of the United States. Before I started reading Pachinko, by Min Jin Lee, I never knew that Korea was a Japanese colony from 1910 until the end of World War II. To learn that Korea was not an independent nation for most of the first half of the twentieth century came as a surprise to me, and it helped spark my interest in this story right from the start.

Pachinko is a sprawling, multigenerational saga about a Korean family's experiences living in Japan during the twentieth century, exiled from their homeland and struggling to survive and thrive amid prejudice, hardship, and loss. The story begins with teenage Sunja, who becomes pregnant after falling for a wealthy businessman in her seaside Korean village. Refusing his offers of financial support after finding out he's already married, she instead accepts an offer of marriage from a kind minister passing through on his way to Osaka. Sunja moves to Japan to live with the minister and his family, and so begins an immigrant story that is rich with themes of sacrifice, ambition, and love. I'm usually a sucker for flowery or elaborate language in the fiction I read, but Pachinko is written in simple, straightforward prose that is nevertheless very affecting.