The Sequel of the Skimasaur

Last time I started a thread, it was instigated by the purchasing of several books at a particular book-store, all set in a list. "Semester" was also used to refer to a period of time, the period of time I had before school started. Although at times dubious, that last thread did meet its precedent in time. This time is different, however.

If you can't already tell, one of the main differences is that the school-year has, this time, already started. I could create another list to follow, but it would be simpler not to. This time, it's going to be much looser, probably updated less frequently, but, the books will be of better quality or at least renown. All of this, of course, because I'm in school; I have books that I have to read for school!

That being said, I will also throw in, at any opportunity, library books or just anything I'm reading that I happen to find interesting. This is an advantage over the last thread, because I'd occasionally have to talk about books that really weren't all that interesting, like the mediocre "Also Known as Rowan Pohi" or the unintelligible "My Favorite Band Does Not Exist". I'll also only be commenting on interesting things in every book, school or otherwise, especially since I'm now under no obligation to fill in blanks.

Wow, I was not kidding when I said this thread was prone to be updated less frequently! In all honesty, I've been so busy with college applications, and SAT scores, and assigned reading, and just general schoolwork as of late that I nearly completely forgot about this thread's entire existence! Don't worry, though, I'm here now! With a post that will attest that I merely only nearly, not entirely, completely forgot about this forum.

As I said before, there are to be no arbitrary lists of books to discuss, unlike last time. I figured that assigned reading would do that for me. It certainly has. Once again, I'm not imposing an obligation to discuss the following works on myself. Instead, view the following as simply candidates, for the goings-forth... or something.

The Once and Future King by T.H White
The Stranger by Albert Camus
The Tragedy of Hamlet, Prince of Denmark by William Shakespeare

Besides these, however, there is one other book from school that I'd like to discuss sometime in the near future, Swimmy by Leo Lionni. This isn't from the current school-year, however. I mention this children's book because I found it in the library as a child and it really affected me, for reasons I won't get into yet because they deserve their own, focused dissection in a post devoted especially to them. Not a side-note when I'm not primarily talking about them.

Lastly, two library books I began, but never finished, may also receive some attention in the near future. Remember Me by Trezza Azzopardi, and Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk by David Sedaris (though that's more of a collection of stories, than anything).

Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk was disappointing and doesn't especially call for discussion. Hamlet, even with Mel Gibson starring, never disappoints and will bear discussion for the rest of our lives.

Robert

Although it's interesting to hear that perspective on Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk, I'd beg to differ. Although I didn't feel the quality of the book itself was remarkable, it was, at the very least, interesting. I feel it very much could warrant discussion, albeit not consistently positive commentary.
I also couldn't help but notice that you deem the book "disappointing," which implies that you had already been familiar with the work of David Sedaris previously. However, understand that, in my purview, I was completely unfamiliar with the work of David Sedaris, and merely chose the book because I thought it seemed interesting. I, therefore, had no expectations for him to disappoint.
Besides, Remember Me interests me so much more so, that I'm probably going to devote so much more time into it, anyway, that anything I say about Squirrel Seeks Chipmunk will probably seem like a faint memory, at best (when I get around to it).
Lastly, with Hamlet, I'd agree; shit's bomb-diggety (bomb-diggety being the same adjective my English teacher used to describe Shakespeare, at least once). I didn't see the Mel Gibson one, however, I saw the Kenneth Branagh version (which received praise from everyone I knew that had seen it, (all one of them!) even though they didn't seem to have much of an opinion on the story itself; just the film). However, I'm glad to know Mel Gibson didn't bring major suckage to the table, in his own film (which I didn't know existed).
Speaking of Shakespeare, though, I did happen to finish Henry the Vth, as of yesterday. Personally, I found it disappointing, because I was expecting so much after Hamlet... there was also the fact that I was assigned to read it during a time which I had previously ascertained as 'Christmas Vacation,' but with this newcomer, clearly was no longer. That may have also factored into an overall lack of enjoyment (at least certainly not at the level of Hamlet).

Hello! OP again! I've got a minor announcement to make; it's entirely possible that, later in this thread, I may give my thoughts on the Ayn Rand novel The Fountainhead. I picked it up because of a scholarship. I'm a busy boy though, and it a behemoth-like book, so it might be overshadowed. Anyways, stay tuned!

The Ayn Rand Essay: Why I Didn't Read the Fountainhead

I mentioned, previously, about both The Fountainhead and The Catcher in the Rye. I said that my curiosity was piqued by The Fountainhead originally by a scholarship, but that I didn't really decide to read it until I learned her ideas (Ayn Rand) were controversial from a clip of John Oliver's "Last Week Tonight."

I mention this, because, it seems clear to me that the reason why you read something is critical in determining how you feel about reading it. For example, I didn't like Henry V as much as Hamlet, because I thought I had to read it over Christmas vacation. Already, it's begrudging. There was also one interview on "The Colbert Report" where someone mentioned that The Catcher in the Rye is, conceptually, about rebellion and individuality. So, it's counter-intuitive for your English teacher to assign you to read it, because it goes against the ideas of the novel to conform with education, like that (I've found that's very accurate). I only read "The Stranger," out of all the material available to me on the summer reading-list, because it was by Albert Camus, and Tomas Kalnoky, whom I so admire, and find so intellectual that I think he may deserve his own touchstone, even if he's not technically an author, mentions him in the song "Here's to Life," (Tomas Kalnoky is the frontman of the band "Streetlight Manifesto"). I mentioned that in the essay I had to write about The Stranger for that class (which I did horribly on, I got a D on that essay), to which my teacher annotated "I don't need personal stories." I disagree, however, because personal stories are the building block of pathos. I think what she was really criticizing was that I was using the personal story in a useless way. It was just sort of thrown in because I wanted to throw it in. Even considering that, however, during a socratic seminar we had about the Summer reading material (I read the Stranger, and so did the majority of the class, but there were other choices), she asked, explicitly, if we read The Stranger because it's short. So, why does she need to know that, if she doesn't need to know I read it because of a song? So she can go home and reassure herself of some superiority complex she has, "ha-ha, I read longer books," in a sing-song, two year old voice? That's really hypocritical, when you think about it.

Speaking of hypocrisy, Holden Caulfield (and those sort of smooth transitions are the kind of things that earn me those D's). (He's the main character of The Catcher in the Rye) He spends the novel complaining about phonies, but he's also constantly lying about his identity, and acting differently than how he feels. So, in a sense, he's the biggest phony there is. It's interesting to read about that, because I can relate. I'll often do things, not because I should, but because I want to, or vice-versa. For example, it would annoy me if I lived with someone who never did the laundry, but I rarely do my own laundry. Everyone's sort of hypocritical, in that sense. This is called a "character flaw," and it makes people care more about your characters, and what happens around them, because it grants the reader access to emotions and experiences they're already familiar with.

This concept seems to be completely beyond Ayn Rand's comprehension. Her main character, Howard Roark, has no flaws. From the get-go, she begins describing him as this infallible, exemplary human-being, who paints a picture of the ideal 'man'. Because of that, he's a preposterous, ridiculous, unbelievable character, that comes off as pompous and arrogant. For example, there was one passage where he was walking down the street, and I started envisioning the scenario that was bound to entail if Ayn Rand was just as bad as John Oliver says she is; he would walk down the street, and, "everybody would look at him, like he's amazing, but he wouldn't look at anybody. He's 'too good' for them." Then, much to my surprise, (or, perhaps, lack of surprise, because, ironically, I was surprised by the fact that it was so stupefyingly predictable) that's exactly what happened. Pg. 5; "People turned to look at Howard Roark as he passed... For him, the streets were empty." Let me remind you: that is page 5, and already we're in the red. Since I know that part of her philosophy, "man-worship," involves people 'living up to their potential to be great,' the idea behind Howard Roark is that he's just inherently spectacular. For example, take this (awfully vague) statement about Howard Roark's architectural abilities; "The buildings were not Classical, they were not Gothic, they were not Renaissance. They were only Howard Roark." (pg. 7)

That last quote also tells us a key detail about Howard Roark; he's a super visionary. Such a visionary, in fact, that he got kicked out of school, probably because he's just too innovative to be taught. That's technically speculation, but I learned from that walking down the street like the cock-of-the-walk bullshit that this is a novel that's really easy to predict. You can completely trust what you speculate, because nothing's surprising (nor interesting). Holden Caulfield also has trouble conforming with school, and also gets kicked out. In this sense, both of these characters are about individuality. Yet, the key difference is that Holden Caulfield's reasons for dropping out are a. believable, and b. not pretentious. You're supposed to think Howard Roark is just too smart, and the third-person narration constantly praising him and his ideas make it seem as if he knows it, as well. Yet, because Howard Roark is constantly being praised, with no humility, you don't believe him. Eleanor Roosevelt has a really nice quote which comes to mind, "Being powerful is like being a lady; If you have to tell people you are, you aren't." The more-and-more Ayn Rand says that Howard Roark is a genius, the less-and-less you think he is (as well as her). Holden Caulfield, however, never regards himself as literally better than people, he just remarks about their hypocrisy and things they do or enjoy which he doesn't like. He even remarks that he's "the only dumb one in my his family." (ch. 10) Though he says that, you disagree, because he always has a sort of defense to anything he has to say, and when he doesn't fully understand why he feels a certain way, he admits it. He sees a significance in things which aren't immediately apparent to everyone, and that shows his intelligence. Howard Roark would probably have his head so far up his ass that anytime he told anyone anything, it would bounce around that dark void until it hit him back right through the ear, and he'd just absorb it back into his head. He's talking to no one but himself, where-as Holden Caulfield talks to you.

In that sense, Howard Roark is less like Holden Caulfield, and more like Caulfield's roommate, Stradlater. Stradlater's extremely narcissistic, and Caulfield notes that by talking to the reader about Stradlater's razor; Stradlater's razor is extremely moldy and unclean, yet Stradlater uses it for extensive periods of time, as if he doesn't have to concern himself with cleaning it. That shows a quality of self-absorption. Caulfield remarks about it, while Howard Roark would probably be the owner of the dirty razor. (The Catcher in the Rye; Ch. 4) That is, if Howard Roark shaves. Maybe his facial hair just grows in so remarkably perfectly and straight that in every phase of growing facial hair he always looks good with it.

So, in conclusion, I dropped The Fountainhead because it gave me absolutely no reason to care about Howard Roark, (at least not by pg.8) the main character. So main, in fact, that the very first part of the novel, named after the character "Peter Keating," immediately starts by talking about Howard Roark. It might actually be interesting to hear about an unconventional architect, who is too confident in his own abilities, if it was an actual flaw, or if he was to learn about humility. Considering that Ayn Rand's philosophy would already dictate that Howard Roark is to learn nothing, that he's already so incredibly better than everybody else that they're to learn from him, not the other way around, it's boring. Maybe he might even work as a side-character, to express the fallacy of pretentiousness, but no, according to Ayn Rand, his problem is that he's too brilliant. He's totally justified in being a pompous dick-head, because he's just #2Smrt4U. So you know that this type of pompous malarky is the predominant feature of this novel, not just something from the beginning determined to change, consider this statement from the horrendous, self-congratulating intro(^1) which precedes the actual novel itself;" The Fountainhead was being rejected by twelve publishers, some of whom declared that it was "too intellectual," " How dare they?! They might have convinced Ayn Rand that she's actually too intellectual for people! What a riot!

1. The introduction falters on the matter of humble respectability in other aspects, as well. She mentions her husband who once told her "you're casting pearls without getting a pork chop in return." That would be nice to note, if it didn't seem like she full-heartedly believed it. (Also, she says she has a character say this because of her husband, yet, before the intro, she gives that arbitrary remark that "No person or event in this story is intended as a reference to any real person or event." I hate that disclaimer, because it's always a guaranteed lie. (that's part of the initial reason I read "Remember Me.") No artist in the world has ever written, painted, sculpted, created, or build-ed anything without some form of inspiration. Otherwise, there'd be no point! But I digress. It's just fascinating that she will explicitly cancel herself out, like that.)
Another thing she does is, quite literally, blame the dictionary. She says that Webster's Daily Use Dictionary (the one from 1933) misled her concerning the meaning of "egotist" v. "egoist."
She also claims that "I Ayn Rand had held that a book is addressed to any reader who proves worthy of it." Think about that for a second; she thinks you have to be worthy of books, and, henceforth, her own. That's a load of garbage; it makes me sick when people think they're 'special' because they read, let alone, because they think what they write is 'too sophisticated' for some people. Maybe it even is, but trying to determine that caste yourself is a cringeworthy amount of pretentious.

I think that essay on why you didn't read the book is way, way more interesting and entertaining and any review by someone who read the entire thing could possible be. :)