First let me take a moment to apologize for the blog absence over the past few days. I'm working on a couple of projects and they've been taking up most of my writing time. One of them is my application essay for the LEAP College Program that I will begin next Sunday. I still can't believe that I'm starting college courses again (I've taken a few through the LIU/ABT program) but I'm excited to join a group of dancers from across the city. More on that to come!
I've been continuing my trend recently of buying books and adding them to my shelf even though I already have ten or more that I haven't read yet. You should have to prove you've read all your books before entering a book store, would save me a lot of money and I would actually make use of my already purchased items.
During this never ending sickness, I've had different waves of inspiration. Some days I'll do nothing but watch TV, other days I'll listen to music for new choreography, blog incessantly or troll the internet looking for new music blogs and gossip websites. Needless to say, I feel like I haven't accomplished very much in the past five months. One of the only things that leaves me with a great feeling of accomplishment is closing the cover on yet another book. The past three I've read all made distinct impacts on me.
People find it odd that I tell them how much I enjoyed my time sitting in the IV lounge in my Naturopath's office in Montana. Reclined in a a chair, with cold fluid pumping into my veins, it was yet more time for me to reflect on things but more importantly, time where I could really delve into a good book. I've been amazed at how quickly my days can pass doing nothing, but my days in the lounge reading Under the Banner of Heaven always left me with a slight sense of accomplishment.
For years people have told me how Jon Krakauer's investigation of the Mormon faith was a must read but it wasn't until Sascha and Stella lent it to me that I ever seriously considered reading it. I remember growing up in Montana with several Mormon friends, and it was always a mysterious religion, clouded by negative press and misrepresentation to the public. While Krakauer's book is quick to point out that it is primarily an investigation of Fundamentalist Mormons, it still presents a very interesting history of the first truly American religion.
Much like Truman Capote did with In Cold Blood and crime in America, Krakauer manages to take one brutal murder and use it as a jumping off point for the different facets of the Mormon faith. He alternates between narrating the history of Joseph Smith and his followers and following the Lafferty brothers (responsible for committing a brutal murder of a woman and her child because they were given divine orders from God) with ease.
It's interesting to see how much the faith has changed over the past 100 years and the different ways it has splintered off from the original intentions of Smith. While much of the book is extremely frightening, Krakauer is always sure to establish when he is talking about Mormons and when he is talking about Fundamentalist Mormons who practice polygamy.
There are some truly horrifying tales presented in the pages but it's a gripping narrative and, for someone like me with little religious background, an accessible introduction to a faith I knew very little about. With all that's in the news recently about polygamist leader Warren Jeff's (who appears in the book) being convicted of coercing the marriage of a minor and of course the HBO hit "Big Love," Krakauer's book is a must read.
After delving into that heavy interrogation of religion, I needed something a little lighter to finish off my days in the IV lounge. One of my favorite discoveries over the past five months has been the author Haruki Murakami. The first book I was reading when I got sick was his brilliant The Wind Up Bird Chronicle, and one of my friends in Montana had given me his newest, much shorter novel, After Dark.
Set in current day Tokyo, After Dark is the intertwining stories of several young, aimless creatures of the night. Without giving too much away, it contains some of Murakami's signature poetic prose and hints of supernatural undertones. Whereas in Wind Up... I found the unknown aspects intriguing, I was left rather annoyed by the confusion at the end of this book. It's a very short 200 pages, but confusing nonetheless and I can't say that I recommend it.
Speaking of recommendations, the book that I just finished two days ago The History of Love came VERY highly recommended to me by several of my closest friends. Written by Nicole Krauss, the wife of one of my favorite authors, Jonathan Safran Foer, Love is without a doubt a beautiful novel. She brilliantly handles several different narratives at once, forcing the reader to follow along without giving away too much information, and piece together the facts as we go. There's the story of a young girl in search of a book's author, there's the story of the writer of said book, there's an older man living in New York who is also connected to the book, etc. It's a complicated but engaging narrative where she effortlessly switches between the mind of a fifteen year old girl, and that of an eighty year old man. Following along can be confusing, but in the end, it's well worth it.
Here comes the giant "BUT" of my analysis. All of this is great, BUT it's EXACTLY like a Safran Foer novel. Even down the the Jewish history, New York location, young adult searching out answers to the unknown and especially the quirky pages where there will be only a word or two on any given page. Part of me thinks it is slightly more acceptable to see such similarities since Krauss is his wife, but at the same time I almost find that more unacceptable. When I was reading Love I kept forgetting that it wasn't one of Safran Foer's books. At times it just felt like a blatant rip off of his style. I pictured the two of them writing it together in their Brooklyn apartment and at the end it left me a little angry. Regardless of how good the book is, it didn't seem original.
Now that I'm done with that rant, I'm off to start the new Michael Chabon book. I wonder if there will be any gay themes in this one? It was between that and Anna Karenina; a little too daunting at the moment.
