Category: Books

The Buried Book (2006) by David Damrosch. Henry Holt and Company, 315 Pages. An entertaining investigation into the discovery and mythology of The Epic of Gilgamesh, the oldest known literary work in the world. The Epic of Gilgamesh is the prototype for many tales that have been written over the last five thousand years. In the eleven clay tablets upon which the epic is written, we find the first written story of a world-wide deluge, the rise and fall of a powerful king, a mother’s love and protection for her son, and the deep and abiding friendship between men that we refer to nowadays as “male bonding”. And that’s just touching upon a few aspects of the tale. In substantially reworked form, elements from Gilgamesh can be found in the works of Homer as well as in many books of the Bible.

The Buried Book takes us through the history of how the epic was discovered in the mid-1800s. This book is about evenly divided into two parts: The first part tells the story of the men who discovered and translated the clay tablets of Gilgamesh, and the second part is a lengthy analysis of the details of Gilgamesh, the real-life rulers of Assyria who stored it away, and its impact upon many subsequent works of literature.

I found the first part of the book to be much more interesting. Damrosch spent a great deal of time and effort researching the lives of the men who brought the epic back to life from its burial place. First we learn about George Smith, the genius who rose through a life of poverty to become the first man to translate the ancient cuneiform tablets comprising Gilgamesh in 1872. Rather than the normal dry history lesson, we find out all about Smith’s personality quirks, his wife and children, and even his intimate fears. Drawing upon a wealth of archival materials such as letters and notebooks, Damrosch details the life of a man that the world has long since forgotten. I found this fascinating and highly entertaining.

Next, we read about Hormuzd Rassam, the archeologist who actually unearthed the tablets themselves, along with a great deal of other ancient Assyrian and Babylonian artifacts. Rassam’s career spanned from the 1840’s to the end of the century, when his reputation was ruined by an ill-chosen lawsuit. In learning all about Rassam and how he discovered the Library of Ashurbanipal, King of Assyria, we also learn a great deal about the history and culture of Babylon, Assyria, and the country we now call “Iraq”. Once again, this history lesson is fascinating.

Personalities like Smith and Rassam simply do not exist any more. Can you imagine that in 1872 George Smith was a national hero — and a headline-making news celebrity — because he translated some 3000 year old clay tablets while working for the British Museum? Can you imagine such a thing making news headlines today? Nowadays, the discoveries of historians and scientists are buried deep in the newspaper in tiny print — if they are mentioned at all — while the news about celebutard Paris Hilton being sentenced to a month in jail makes the headlines. The world, and society, really was very different back then.

After I finished this book, it occurred to me that as a people, we seem to be trying very hard to forget everything we’ve learned about human culture and society over the past 150 years. Instead of learning from our mistakes, we’re repeating them, with even worse consequences than the first time around.

I doubt The Buried Book will make any bestseller lists — but it should. This well-written and compelling tale of history, mythology, and psychology deserves to be read by many. I submit to you that a story written down in clay tablets by a scribe, a story that lay buried for nearly 3000 years, still has an awful lot to tell us today, right here and now. Give it a try and see if I’m right… go unearth a copy of The Buried Book and see for yourself. Hey! Maybe Paris can read it while she’s in jail!

Pushing Ice (2006) by Alastair Reynolds. Easton Press, 464 Pages. This is a great “hard science fiction” novel that evokes the best works of Arthur C. Clarke. I love it when I find an undiscovered gem on my shelves. I got this copy of Pushing Ice about a year ago through an Easton Press subscription, and stuck it up on a shelf to be perused later. And then I forgot all about it. A few weeks ago, during my decades-delayed library organization project, I came across the book and pulled off the shrink wrap. I read the description… it sounded interesting,… so I started reading it that night. And couldn’t put it down. I stayed up until 3 in the morning three nights in a row. This is an extremely well-written, fast paced novel of space exploration and first alien contact that really moves. It’s very gripping, and each evening I just had to reach the end of the next “Part” of the book.

The novel starts in 2057 (hey! I would be 95 if I’m still alive by then!), aboard a comet-mining vessel. During a relatively routine comet capture and mining mission, they get an urgent message: One of the moons of Saturn has suddenly left its orbit and is accelerating at a rapid rate, leaving the solar system. As the closest ship, they are asked to drop their mining stake and rendezvous with the “moon”, which is now revealed to be a huge alien spaceship. The captain at first is reluctant; as she says, “We push ice. That’s what we do”. They’re unionized miners, not explorers.

But when a huge financial reward is dangled in front of them, the majority of the ship’s crew vote to chase after the speeding alien craft. And that’s the start of a wild ride. As the ship catches up with the alien vessel, they are caught in a field surrounding it, and are pulled along as the ship accelerates at a substantial fraction of the speed of light, heading for a star over 200 light years away. They have no choice but to go along and make the best they can of it. And so they must explore the alien ship that will serve as their home for many years, and figure out how to survive. But that’s just the beginning…

Unlike a lot of hard science fiction, I found that I cared about the actual people in the story. I shook my head over their poor decisions, mourned the deaths, and reveled as the true nature of the craft and its destination were revealed. I hesitate to characterize this as “space opera”, since everything that transpires in the story is grounded in real, actual science (the author is a former European Space Agency scientist), but it’s so grand and epic in scope that I don’t know how else to describe it.

It’s not a perfect novel. Bella, the captain, and her chief engineer Svetlana are the main characters. Best friends at the start of the novel, they become sworn enemies and worse as the story progresses. As much as I liked their characters, I just couldn’t buy the extreme choices they make by the end of the novel – especially the decision of Svetlana in regards to the “Musk Dogs” I get it: they’re arch enemies. But I found it extremely difficult to believe that Svetlana would do such an extreme thing, with such obvious terrible consequences for everyone, just because she’s on the outs with Bella. Her decision simply does not fit with the methodical nature of her character.

I also have to say that I find the plot and the characters extremely similar to Arthur C. Clarke‘s Rama II and its initial sequel, The Garden of Rama. The same storyline in regards to a huge alien vessel, and being trapped inside it as it leaves the solar system. The same character development of the female captain/leader being brought down by her crew, sentenced into a crippling exile, and then later being restored. The same “big reveal” at the end (well, that actually happened in Clarke’s final book of the series, Rama Revealed) with cosmic implications.

But “not perfect” is really the worst I can say. This really is a fantastic read, and well worth your time. I liked it so much I’m now going to be hunting down Reynold’s other books, in the hope that they will turn out to be as entertaining as Pushing Ice. If you enjoy science fiction that’s epic in scope and yet still has the ring of reality, check this one out. I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

The Brothers Karamazov (1880) by Fyodor Dostoevsky. Russian to English translation by Constance Garnett. Easton Press, 604 pages.

I came to read this book by way of others. In several books I’ve read over the past year, I keep coming across references to The Brothers Karamazov. Finally, after most recently coming across several references while reading Beasts of Eden last month, I made a note to read this novel.. And what do you know! The very next book in my Easton Press “100 Greatest Books Ever Written” series arrived later that same week turned out to be a lovely leather-bound copy of The Brothers Karamazov.

This is the first time I’ve ever read any of the classics in Russian literature – but it certainly won’t be the last. One very enjoyable aspect of reading this book was that I didn’t know anything at all about it beforehand. I’d never studied it in college, had no idea what the plot was about, and until I read the introduction, I didn’t even know what time frame the book takes place in. I just pulled the book out of its box and started reading it .

I made a point not to read anything about this book, or about the author, until I finished it. The only exception I made was reading the scholarly introduction in the front of the book itself. So, unlike most who seem to have read this novel as part of some college course or book club assignment, I decided to read this cold, just to see how it comes off. Is this really a classic for a reason, or is just one of those books (like Silas Marner) that is only a “classic” because some teacher tells you it is?

As it turns out, this is a darn good read, and I deem it to be a classic for a good reason. Many good reasons, in fact.

Plot-wise, The Brothers Karamazov is basically a murder mystery and courtroom drama. Think of this as a heavy-duty John Grisham thriller set in 19th-century Russia, and you’ve got the basic idea. The titular “Brothers” are: Oldest brother Dmitri, age 28; middle brother Ivan, age 24; and youngest brother Alexey, age 20. The story begins “13 years ago…”, and as it was published in 1880. I therefore assume the timeframe of the book is 1867 or right around there.

None of the brothers drew a lucky card in life. Their father, Fyodor, the patriarch of the extremely dysfunctional Karamazov clan, abandoned all of the them (two different wives were in the mix, so technically this should have been “The Half Brothers Karamazov”, but we’ll ignore that) as small children to be raised by various servants and cousins. As grown men, he treats them at best like pets, and at worst like slaves. The father is a rich, egotistical, horny asshole (Doestoesky uses words like “sensualist” and “libertine”, but we know what he means). Long before it was clear that this was going to be a murder story, I was hoping someone would kill this son of a bitch.

The brothers are as different as night and day, and it’s quite clear that Doestoevsky has set each of them up as the representative of a particular point of view about the world:

Dmitri, who occupies a central part of the plot as the murder suspect on trial, is an out-of-work ex-military officer with little formal education. He’s terrible with money; whatever he gets he throws away on prostitutes, booze, and other “sensual” enjoyments. He seems to represent the uncontrolled, animalistic side of human nature. When he wants something, he takes it, without thinking much about it. He hates his father with an undying passion, and until the beginning of the story, hasn’t seen his father or his other brothers in 23 years.

Ivan, who is the brother most off stage, is the direct opposite. Ivan is highly educated, has traveled far and wide throughout Europe, is financially well-off, and is on reasonable speaking terms with their horrible father – mainly because, having made his own wealth, there’s nothing his father can hold over him. Ivan is a cold-hearted atheist, the kind that not only believes there is no God, but that the very concept is in and of itself evil.

Alexey is a monk at the start of the novel, although he leaves the monastery about half-way through the story (it’s established very early on that he is simply studying at the monastery, and is unlikely to take the formal vows and stay there, so I’m not spoiling the plot too much by giving that away). Alexey has a deep and abiding faith, not just in God, but in the very foundation of the Catholic church, its precise and exact teachings, and the teachings of the Jesuits. Alexey is the only one of the three brothers who is actually loved by their father, apparently because Alexey is so blatantly and obviously a kind, thoughtful man who tries (and usually succeeds) in finding the good in everyone.

Then there are about 50 other characters, all quite well rounded and described. Although the book only takes place over about a six-month period in a single town, it nevertheless feels Epic, mainly because of the vast cast of characters and the incredibly detailed background of even the smallest of them. This aspect, I think, is what makes this book so enjoyable. Doestoevsky thinks nothing of going off on a tangent for 20 or 30 pages, if that’s what it takes to clearly show where a certain character is coming from.

I won’t tell you who murders who, or what the final outcome is – although I will say that this is not a “whodunnit” type of murder mystery. You definitely know without a doubt who killed who before the trial even starts – so the suspense is seeing if the truth will come out, and if it does, how everyone involved will react to it. Unlike almost every modern story that tries this approach, however, this one is very unpredictable. And while some characters have happy endings, most definitely do not.

The Grand Inquisitor



It was around Book V (the novel is organized in 12 “books”, spilt up into 4 parts and an epilogue) that I really started to enjoy this big-time. Ivan and Alexey are having lunch in a private room at a local restaurant, and Ivan tells Alexey his long “poem” about The Grand Inquisitor. It’s a long, detailed, and disturbing story about how an Inquisitor during the Spanish Inquisition captures and tortures Jesus Christ himself, who has come down to walk among mankind for a few days. The Inquisitor knows very well that his victim is the one and only Christ, but tortures and burns him at the stake anyway, since to him, it is far more important to keep the structure of the church intact than to risk the chance that Christ might spread some of his actual truths among the people. It’s a devastating poem.

It’s obvious from the tone of this whole section that Doestoevsky is himself profoundly religious, with Alexey being his proxy, and Ivan his nemesis. Yet, perhaps not surprisingly, I found Ivan’s point of view, along with his story of the inquisition, far more convincing and persuasive than Alexey’s somewhat simple-minded faith. This whole point of view comes to its apotheosis in Book V, Chapter 4, “Rebellion” (starting on Page 179, left column in my edition). Ivan goes on a rant for pages about the horrible torture of innocent children. Says Ivan, “I think if the devil doesn’t exist, but man has created him, he has created him in his own image and likeness”.

Book V, Chapter 5, when Ivan goes into his Grand Inquisitor story, brings the whole diatribe to a thundering climax. Like all good literature, it relates to all people at all times, with ours being no exception. Hear how the Grand Inquisitor tells the imprisoned Christ just how much value people actually put on freedom:

But let me tell Thee that now, to-day, people are more convinced than ever that they have perfect freedom, yet they have brought their freedom to us and laid it humbly at our feet. But that has been our doing. Was this what Thou didst desire? Was this Thy freedom?

Some Closing Observations

One odd thing in this book is how, occasionally, a 1st-person narrator springs to life, in the middle of a novel that has quite clearly been told in the 3rd person for the entire time. This is most blatant during the trial, when the narrator comes to the fore and speaks as if he is a spectator in the courtroom gallery. I did find this to be odd and jarring, and kept wondering if the narrator was eventually going to be revealed as an actual character. He never is, and I decided that it was just an affectation of the author’s. Perhaps this a Russian literary device?

I guess Stan Lee must’ve read this book, because I was astonished to find that Spider-Man‘s credo is spoken nearly word-for-word on page 575 by the defense attorney, who states that “the greater the power, the more terrible its responsibility.”

I never did understand the whole subplot of “The Boys” that Alexey befriends (Book X), nor how it has anything to do with either the main plot or the religious themes. Maybe something got lost in the translation? More likely, I’m too dense to pick it up. But nevertheless, these sections are still enjoyable and well-characterized.

It occurred to me several times during reading this book that it would work very well in the modern world, and in almost any culture. Change the names of the brothers to David, Ira and Alex Karmez, set the story in some small town in modern-day Kansas, and you’d have a hell of a movie.

And finally, a plug for the Easton Press and its wonderful leather-bound editions. My copy of The Brothers Karamazov is a solid, five pound, hardcover book, bound in red leather and edged in gold. The physical size is large (11″ x 8″), and the book is typeset two columns per page. In the publisher’s introduction, it states this was done so that this very long novel could be printed using a large enough typeface to be readable, while not being so physically large and heavy that it couldn’t be held while reading. It’s a joy to read a book that is physically so pleasing to the touch and crisp to the eye.

To me, reading a book in a fine hardcover edition like this is like the difference between watching a movie on a crummy old VHS copy – or watching a new, High Definition disc re-mastering of the same film. In either case, you’re going to see the same acting, the same story, and the same visuals, but one is going to look a lot better than the other, and subsequently will be more enjoyable. A classic book should be read and enjoyed as a piece of art in and of itself. It should not be squinted at between sweaty fingers, deciphering tiny type printed on cheap paper between paperback covers.

So get yourself a nice copy of The Brothers Karamazov, settle down in a comfortable chair, and dive in. You’ll be transported to another place in another time, only to discover that life’s problems haven’t changed a bit since then.

The Ruins (2006) by Scott Smith. Knopf, 336 pages.

Are you looking for a good scary thriller? Have you been missing the feeling of reading a new Stephen King book? Do you enjoy staying up all night long, the hair on the back of your neck slowly prickling as you read? Isn’t it fun when you mutter “no… no… don’t go in there….” under your breath as you turn the page? If so, then here’s a great book for you.

Smith’s only other book to date was A Simple Plan (1993), which I’ve read twice (as well as watched the movie version twice). The Ruins is completely different as far as subject matter goes, and yet manages to evoke the same sense of building terror. Unlike A Simple Plan, however, The Ruins is an honest-to-god horror novel, complete with supernatural elements and a group of people trapped in a no-win situation. Without giving anything away, I will say that this follows the general “who’s going to die next and who will survive in the end” formula that many successful spooky thrillers follow.

The story builds very well, as a group of four Americans on a long vacation in Cancun decide to help a German man find his missing brother. The German has a map, leading to an archeological site deep in the jungle, where his brother is believed to be assisting one of the scientists. They all embark on a lark, taking along a Greek tourist with whom none of them can converse with. Ignoring gentle (and not so gentle) warnings to stay away, they blithely head towards… The Ruins.

And that’s as much as I’ll say, except that I, for one, have no desire to go on a Mexican vacation anytime in the near future.

I love good scary books, just absolutely love them. The scariest movie ever made cannot even come close to a decent scary book. I fondly remember reading Salem’s Lot when I was fourteen years old, and how I kept looking out my bedroom window, imagining a dead schoolmate floating in the air, white blood-drained face staring at me in the darkness, tapping on the windows and begging to be invited in. I remember Carrie, and Ghost Story, and the Books of Blood by Clive Barker.

So, as a final testament, I finished The Ruins at about 1:30 AM this morning, and it took me another hour to fall asleep. I thought I heard rustling in the dark, and I kept picturing myself there in the ruins, with those green vines growing all around me, and the whispered mimic of laughter echoing down the hill…

The Poe Shadow by Matthew Pearl. Random House, 384 pages.

And so tonight I have finished reading Matthew Pearl’s new book, “The Poe Shadow“. An enjoyable read, very much the same in tone and flavor as his previous (and first) novel, “The Dante Club“. For those who are not familiar, Pearl writes historical fiction set in the world of great literary figures. The Dante Club was a terrific serial murder mystery set in 1865 Boston. The sleuths involved were poet Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, physician Oliver Wendell Holmes, and poet James Russell Lowell – plus a host of other characters, both real and imagined, pulled from the same time and location. The Dante Club was a favorite of mine in 2004, and I was looking forward to Pearl’s next endeavor.

This time out, Pearl has written a novel about a young lawyer trying to discover how his literary hero and sometimes-pen-pal Edgar Allen Poe met his end. The story begins in 1849 Baltimore, at the sparsely-attended funeral of Poe, and takes place over the following two years. This one definitely grew on me the further into it I got. For the first 100 or so pages, I was mostly just annoyed with the protagonist, Quentin Clark. In The Dante Club, all of the principal characters are pretty much geniuses. In this one, I felt that Clark was pretty much a moron.

As the novel progresses, my feelings about him changed somewhat, and I began to look upon poor Clark as sort of a Dr. Watson figure. After all, what is Holmes without Watson? And Clark’s naive nature does make him a natural target for exposition, so necessary in a pastiche novel of this sort. Unlike Watson, however, Clark is just not a very sympathetic character. As the novel concludes with a (sort of) fight for Clark’s (financial) life, I was actually hoping he’d lose. I didn’t feel he deserved either the money or the girl. What a twit. I don’t know if this characterization was intentional on Pearl’s part or not, but through most of the book, I kept saying to myself, “Well, if I was there, I would’ve done such-and-such instead of what this idiot is doing”, etc.

However, as in the previous novel, characterization is not Pearl’s strong suit. Pearl’s real talents, in my opinion, lie in creating a believable fictional world around real-life famous events and people. In that, he succeeds brilliantly. His two novels to date remind me a great deal of Caleb Carr‘s first two novels (although Carr is much better at characterization). However, unlike Carr, Pearl seems to have broken out of the one-trick pony mode while still remaining true to his strengths. While I feel The Dante Club was a better work overall, The Poe Shadow is a fun read for those who like period pieces. If you’re a fan of Edgar Allen Poe (or of Sherlock Holmes), you’ll enjoy this novel.

The Omnivore’s Dilemma by Michael Pollan. Penguin Press, 464 pages.

“Sustainable”is a great word and a great philosophy. Not just a philosophy of life, but of economy, politics, morals, etc. From now on, I’m going to make a concerted effort to ask myself, “Is it sustainable?” and try to get some direction from the answer. It seems like our whole country – and especially our government – is not paying any attention at all to this. Everyone is only concerned about right now, this minute, today.

Secrecy is killing us all. It’s not just the government. A totally private company, Cargill, won’t allow any documentation of its industrial processes – in other words, how is corn actually converted into all those various substances? They have nothing to lose or to hide – they are a private company, so no stockholders or SEC to worry about. They’re nearly a monopoly, so they can’t be worried about trade secrets. It’s just plain old paranoia.

It seems that nowadays, the default choice is “keep it secret”. Instead it should be the other way around – things should be kept secret and private only if it is an absolute necessity, and even then it should be for as short a time as possible. I remember a long time ago hearing that the ideal government should be completely transparent: It should have no secrets at all about anyone. That should be our golden standard. No secrets by default. Always.

Martin Schmitt was right all along, even though I still don’t like to eat my vegetables. I have no idea where Martin is these days – I just assume he’s still living at the top of Saddle Peak Road in Topanga – but he’d probably laugh heartily to hear me say that, 20 years later. Now I’m trying hard to live a sustainable life and eat organic food and use renewable energy… and I’m in my mid-forties, just now coming to this realization. Better late than never, I guess.