by Bram Stoker (1897)

2022 reads, 10/20:

Originally, I was going to read this via an email subscription service which sends you the letters/journals/newspaper clippings that make up this epistolary novel on the date they were written; but honestly the book was too enticing to wait until the next email, so I ended up just going ahead with it.

Vampires have become such a popular genre since this was published in 1897 (Twilight, Blade, American Horror Story, What We Do In The Shadows, the list goes on…), so we have all become somewhat unfazed by them, even obsessing over them. So going into this, I tried to imagine someone reading about vampires for the first time, especially in the late 1800s, where vampires threatened the Christian and puritan ideals so prevalent at the time. In this novel, submitting to someone like Dracula presents an eternally damned fate worse than death.

"To us for ever are the gates of heaven shut; for who shall open them to us again? We go on for all time abhorred by all; a blot on the face of God's sunshine; an arrow in the side of Him who died for man. But we are face to face with duty; and in such case must we shrink?"

Regarding plot, I’d say the first four chapters are probably my favorite. There are only two main characters, Jonathan Harker and Count Dracula, and all you can do is read as the horror slowly unfolds upon itself; it’s honestly such a strong beginning. But after these chapters, the plot and pacing start to slow down.

And to me, the pacing from this point onward presents kind of a Catch-22 situation. By that, I mean there were a lot of dry parts between the letters and journal entries, especially as we get to know all the new characters introduced after Jonathan’s visit. However, the presence of these dry parts amplified the shock when horror scenes did occur, and for that reason, passages such as the recollection of sailors on the boat had such a profound effect. I don’t know if these scenes would be as gruesome had the book just been filled with Dracula’s misadventures and wrongdoings. So, I can’t necessarily blame Stoker for wanting to build up story and mystery in the scenes between the horror.

“He can, within limitations, appear at will when, and where, and in any of the forms that are to him; he can, within his range, direct the elements: the storm, the fog, the thunder; he can command all the meaner things: the rat, and the owl, and the bat—the moth, and the fox, and the wolf; he can grow and become small; and he can at times vanish and come unknown. How then are we to begin our strife to destroy him?”

#readingyear2022 #british #epistolary #gothic #spooky

by Hunter S. Thompson (1971)

2022 reads, 9/20:

This semi-autobiographical novel follows Raoul Duke (Hunter S. Thompson) and Dr. Gonzo (Oscar Acosta), journalist and attorney respectively, as they attempt to cover two events happening in Las Vegas for Rolling Stone magazine. What resulted instead, however, was this book; a recount of their insane-yet-hilarious drug-addled journey to Vegas.

However, hidden between the hallucinatory imaginings of Duke and Gonzo (tirades of bats, reptiles, and trying to buy a gorilla) are grounded and real-world fragments of happenings occurring at the time in American history. Newspaper clippings, references to famous events, and commentary from other characters and their experiences, are all interspersed in this absurd recollection of events.

“A very painful experience in every way, a proper end to the Sixties: Tim Leary a prisoner of Eldridge Cleaver in Algeria, Bob Dylan clipping coupons in Greenwich Village, both Kennedys murdered by mutants, Owsley folding napkins on Terminal Island, and finally Cassius/Ali belted incredibly off his pedestal by a human hamburger, a man on the verge of death. Joe Frazier, like Nixon, had finally prevailed for reasons that people like me refused to understand – at least not out loud.”

The imagery of bright Las Vegas lights and having a ‘good time’ are juxtaposed with these types of references throughout the book. So I’ll retract my statement above, and say that this book has disguised itself as a drug-addled adventure, but in reality is about the end of an era and the beginning of new forces in America.

Regardless of what you think of the plot (or lack thereof), Fear and Loathing has cemented itself in American literature and popular culture. Once you read the book (and watch the movie as well, 4.5/5 stars), you start seeing references to it everywhere in popular culture (especially this music video from The Weeknd, and this album title from Panic! At the Disco).

“And that, I think, was the handle—that sense of inevitable victory over the forces of Old and Evil. Not in any mean or military sense; we didn’t need that. Our energy would simply prevail. There was no point in fighting—on our side or theirs. We had all the momentum; we were riding the crest of a high and beautiful wave… […] So now, less than five years later, you can go up on a steep hill in Las Vegas and look West, and with the right kind of eyes you can almost see the high-water mark—that place where the wave finally broke and rolled back.”

#readingyear2022 #american #physicallyowned #book2screen

by Shirley Jackson (1962)

2022 reads, 8/20:

Truly a haunting book, with a thrilling ride in the latter half. I had seen the film a few years ago, but it didn’t have much of an impact on me, so I had forgotten most of the plot. The book better captures that lingering fear throughout, in my opinion – it definitely felt like something dreadful was always lurking around the corner (thanks to Merricat’s pseudo-extrasensory ‘skills’).

The book does start off a bit slow, but the arrival of Cousin Charles really sets things into motion. Many things are left open to the reader’s interpretation, partially because of unreliable and eccentric narrator Merricat, but also because of Jackson’s writing. The writing for events occurring in the present are well-articulated, but passages describing the past are very ambiguous, something that Jackson likely did on purpose. This allows the reader to speculate what might have gone on in the past, and how those events affect the plot.

Mild spoilers ahead: I wish I remembered where I read this, but someone mentioned that this book is like the prequal of how houses become haunted, and how urban legends get started in small towns; an idea I’ve really come to appreciate.

“I remember that I stood on the library steps holding my books and looking for a minute at the soft hinted green in the branches against the sky and wishing, as I always did, that I could walk home across the sky instead of through the village.”

FILM REWATCH: After rewatching the film after this read, it was definitely better than I remember, but didn’t capture a lot of mysteriousness the book had to offer. Book: 4/5 stars, movie: 2.5/5 stars.

#readingyear2022 #gothic #spooky #book2screen

by Thomas Pynchon (1966)

2022 reads, 7/20:

I can honestly say I’ve never read anything like this in my life, definitely one of the best pieces of American literature I’ve read in a long time. The style of writing, and imagery that is conjured up by said style, is spectacular. That said, I also understand that this book’s writing style is not for everybody. If you prefer coherent storylines with plot and subplot resolutions, this book does not offer that. However, I still recommend it just to get a feel for its unique style of writing.

“At some indefinite passage in night's sonorous score, it also came to her that she would be safe, that something, perhaps only her linearly fading drunkenness, would protect her. The city was hers, as, made up and sleeked so with the customary words and images (cosmopolitan, culture, cable cars) it had not been before: she had safe-passage tonight to its far blood's branchings, be they capillaries too small for more than peering into, or vessels mashed together in shameless municipal hickeys, out on the skin for all but tourists to see. Nothing of the night's could touch her; nothing did.”

The story itself is actually fairly simple: our main character, Oedipa Maas, becomes executrix of her former rich boyfriend’s estate, and in the process of settling these affairs, seems to uncover a conspiracy against her. But the real treat of this book, as mentioned before, is the writing and imagery of a 1950s southern California town (aptly named San Narciso). This writing style was one of the first things I noticed (and ended up really enjoying).

To me, he writes how we think. Now I can’t speak for everybody, but I feel that humans think in fragments of time, cutting from one scene in our minds immediately to the next, no transition, just pure thoughts. Similarly, in this book, we the reader are taken to one place, and then when you least expect it, we are suddenly ripped away and placed in a new location, possibly days later, in the next sentence. At first, seeing this type of writing on paper is daunting and off-putting, but I ended up really enjoying it (some have described it as beat-poetry like, which I also agree with).

“San Narciso was a name; an incident among our climatic records of dreams and what dreams became among our accumulated daylight, a moment’s squall-line or tornado’s touchdown among the higher, more continental solemnities—storm-systems of group suffering and need, prevailing winds of affluence.”

#readingyear2022 #favorites #physicallyowned #postmodern #pynchon

by Kurt Vonnegut (1952)

2022 reads, 6/20:

“What distinguishes man from the rest of animals is his ability to do artificial things,” said Paul. “To his greater glory, I say. And a step backward, after making a wrong turn, is a step in the right direction.”

Player Piano chronicles the life of Paul Proteus, an upper-class engineer in a version of America after the third world war. While citizens were out fighting the war, engineers created automated machines and artificial intelligence to do all the daily jobs left behind, displacing the workers when they returned. The workers didn’t have many options when they returned, and many of them wanted to get their lives back, best symbolized when the character Ed Finnerty is seen manually playing a player piano, a piano which can automatically play itself.

I think this book gets a bad rap, but I get why. Being Vonnegut’s first published novel, it is often written off as ‘lengthy’ or ‘bloated,’ and the sarcasm/satire not as polished as his later novels. But it would be unfair to judge this book just because it wasn't full-on 'Vonnegut'; it was really great, especially the ending. It did seem to drag on in a few parts, especially during the Meadows segment, but for every part that seemed out of place, there was a passage later on that brought it all together. Some other notable highlights include Finnerty’s brashness, the barber’s monologue about war, and anything to do with the Ghost Shirt society, especially in the latter half of the book.

#readingyear2022 #dystopia #physicallyowned

by Albert Camus (1944)

2022 reads, book 5/20:

The primary reason for reading this play was to complete what Albert Camus termed ‘The Cycle of the Absurd,’ a trio consisting of The Stranger, The Myth of Sisyphus, and Caligula. In this play, the Roman Emperor Caligula, after the death of his sister Drusilla, essentially goes mad and makes life a living hell for all of his constituents. This is the side of Caligula that those invested in Roman history are familiar with. But, in Camus’ version of events, Caligula suddenly obsesses over the impossible, wanting to “transcend God” and “truly be free” (it is truly unhinged behavior).

On the actual play: it wasn’t bad. It was definitely more violent than I expected (I guess I really shouldn’t have been surprised; the play is called Caligula after all). A good number of scenes are just Caligula getting someone to admit they should die, often through some faulty logic. There are interesting conversations happen between Caligula and Scipio, who seems to give Caligula a taste of his own medicine. This play probably had the most on-the-nose absurdist imagery, as there really is no plot to the play itself, it’s just a series of scenes used for philosophical debate.

What I did love was realizing the imagery in all of these works were connected. Caligula is obsessed with the impossible, as seen in the task he assigns one of his patrician: he wants the moon. In The Stranger, Meursault was obsessed with the sun, and of course Sisyphus had his boulder. Whether intentional or not, I was enamored by the symbolism provided by these three natural elements (sun, rock, and moon).

#readingyear2022 #absurdism #theatre

by Samuel Beckett (1952)

2022 reads, book 4/20:

“ESTRAGON: I can't go on like this. VLADIMIR: That's what you think.”

Although this play was famously described as one in which “nothing happens, twice,” any book or work that plays with the concept of time always piques my interest (this isn’t exclusive to time-travel). Time and memory are a large part in this play, but without spoiling, it only really works when you put together both acts. Act I was a bit boring, though it had some pretty funny dialogue, but reading the second half with the knowledge of the first half is a treat, because I wasn’t quite sure what to believe.

Quick sidenote: plays are meant to be seen in person, though, so I have a feeling that seeing this performed live (especially with Sir Ian McKellen and Sir Patrick Stewart) would turn this into a five-star play.

As a quick summary: the two titular characters, Estragon and Vladimir, are waiting for Godot, who is supposed to arrive soon. That’s all you need to know going into the play. With lots of references to absurdism and religion, you can really study this play as much as you want. On the surface level it works fine, and the conversations are actually pretty funny and witty, but as you read more into the dialogue and characters, you can really have fun with analyzing and speculating on what is truly going on.

“The tears of the world are a constant quantity. For each one who begins to weep somewhere else another stops. The same is true of the laugh.”

#readingyear2022 #absurdism #humor #physicallyowned #theatre

by David Chang (2020)

2022 reads, book 3/20:

I’ve only started watching chef David Chang the past couple of years, when I first saw him guest star on The Chef Show with Roy Choi and Jon Favreau. I then watched his most famous show Ugly Delicious, and more recently, The Next Thing You Eat. But these (mainly) lighthearted food-oriented shows are a stark contrast from the deeply personal stories and thoughts that Chang offers here.

In the preface, Chang says something along the lines of him being afraid for you to read his book – and I understand why. He lays out all of the ugly details here, many of which are his own mistakes. The first part of the book is in classic memoir style, written in a more-or-less chronological order; he touches on his childhood, college, and culinary school experiences, then focuses on his time working in a restaurant, to finally becoming a restaurant owner. The second part then loses its chronological format, and to me became more of a series of essays, where he touches on an important topic/event in his life or the restaurant industry in general.

What Chang does really well is offer a stellar view of what it’s like to rise up the ranks and run a restaurant in a messed-up industry (all with the imposter syndrome he dealt still deals with). We’ve all heard about chefs yelling in kitchens à la Gordon Ramsey, but Chang goes into even more detail about how all the stressors that come from working as a chef, including racism and sexism to name a few, lead to drugs, alcoholism, and poor mental health for many young chefs. I truly appreciated Chang’s candor throughout this book; especially seen in the chapter where he shows you how he would have wanted to rewrite his history, and the chapter where he turns 35 years old.

Bottom line: the synergistic interaction between Chang’s turbulent life and all of the issues that come with working in a restaurant is what made this book so honest, heartbreaking, and hopeful.

#readingyear2022 #bio #foodanddrink #physicallyowned

by Stuart Rojstaczer (2014)

2022 reads, book 2/20:

I wish Goodreads let you do half stars. I was really interested in the concept of this book going in. The main character, Sasha, is not only dealing with the loss of his mother, but also the fact that she could have solved one of the greatest problems in mathematics (worth one million dollars), but rumor has it she spitefully took the proof to her grave. So, other mathematicians who knew her come to sit Shiva, and try and see if she has the solution anywhere hidden in the house.

However, when actually reading the book, this plot seemed to take a backseat to the more memoir-eqsue style of the main character’s narration, consistently going back and forth between present and past, both in his life and his mother’s. I didn’t really mind this style of writing, but I was just expecting more of a comedy or mystery, so it seemed to drag at points. However, I enjoyed the characters a lot, and their interactions with one another were entertaining. Lastly, the book ended well by satisfyingly tying everything together.

#readingyear2022 #math

by Jean-Paul Sartre (1947)

2022 reads, book 1/20:

This book contains four plays of Jean-Paul Sartre, published between 1943 – 1947. I was most excited to read No Exit, but upon receiving this collection, I’ve read and compiled thoughts for all four plays in this edition below. I would rate the whole collection about 4 stars, but read on for the individual scores below.

No Exit (Huis Clos): A simple premise: three people, who didn’t know one another on Earth, arrive in hell. We, as the audience, simply watch (or read) the dialogue that ensues between them. What starts off a bit slow quickly ramps up to accusations being thrown, secrets being revealed, and true natures coming out at full force. I think it’s a great play, because not only is it a fun read at the surface level, but you can dig deeper into the meanings that Sartre hoped to communicate in this play, regarding freedom, acceptance from others and self-worth. 5/5 stars!

The Flies (Les Mouches): A retelling of the Greek tragedy Electra, which I was unfamiliar with before reading this. The main character Orestes returns to his home city, where he was kidnapped/rescued from as a child, as his father, the king, was murdered by his mother’s lover years earlier. He comes back and meets up with Electra, his sister who still lives there, to enact revenge. While the plot itself didn’t do much for me, the themes and motifs on religion, freedom, and guilt were interesting to dig into as I was reading. As a side note, the context in which Sartre wrote this was fascinating; it is said that he wrote this play to mirror the state of the German occupation of France, but in order to get it past Nazi censors, he disguised the plot into a Greek myth. Overall, 3/5 stars.

Dirty Hands (Les Mains sales): This one was a pretty fun read. It starts off in the future, where we learn that the main character Hugo just finished jail time for assassination of a political figure, and spend the rest of the play revisiting the events that led up to the assassination, to learn why he did it. The dialogue between the characters was witty, expertly written, and never felt dry. Not only was there substance, but the whole play even read like a comedy at times. 4/5 stars overall.

The Respectful Prostitute (La Putain respectueuse): Although it was short, this one was a rough. Set in the American south in the 1940s, this play explored not just racism, but power of the different political figures of that time. It was rough to read because of the vulgarity of the language, and the way that most, if not all, the characters acted throughout. Not only that, but the ending unfortunately was a bit unsatisfactory, so this gets 3/5 stars.

#readingyear2022 #physicallyowned #philosophy #theatre