So far, I've only read one thing: The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo. I was planning on moving on to a classic, For Whom the Bell Tolls by Hemingway. I like to vary my reading: something old, something new, something easy and something non-fiction. But, a colleague from work gave me the rest of the Dragon series and I figured, why not? Usually I like to string a series along so I can enjoy it. That would have been a good idea considering Stieg Larsson will never be giving us a new book although, the mystery of his death could be the subject of another book. I also read that the heroine of his novel, Lisbeth Salander, has just been cast, which means a movie will be shooting soon, which means that people who have not read the series will know what happens before I do. I can't have this, so I must read the novels. It's not exactly bothersome. Larsson has a fantastic imagination. When I write fiction, I use my experiences(many do) as a basis for the plots. If Larsson was using his experiences, he had a wild life. Either way, the plot is compelling. Unfortunately, the English readers are reading a translation.
Unless a translation has been done carefully, there are often grammar and spelling mistakes that go beyond the British spelling of favourite or colour. Sometimes the unfamiliar Swedish names are difficult to follow: Nieminen is a detective, but Niedermann is the bad guy. Modig is a woman, not the name of a troll under a bridge. Figuerola is a tall, blond, muscular and sexy-in-her-own-way kind of a woman. Figuerola should be a fat old man. The hero, a man who should be mid-forties, very attractive with salt and pepper hair, a man you'd be proud to have a fling with, is named Blomkvist. I can't imagine how he got out of elementary school unscarred with that last name. I guess what I'm saying is that sounds of words conjure images for me, and my real complaint is that the sounds of the names do not match with the image presented to me. Anyways, it might just be completely ethnocentric of me because I don't understand the pronunciation of certain combinations of letters. Wadensjoo with two dots over the o's comes out in my head: "Wad-ens-jew". I think of a Japanese man.
Other than that dissonance, and the translation errors, I think it's a fantastic work and a shame that a writer with so much success was never able to enjoy it. I wouldn't and couldn't give anything away dealing with the plot, but he does achieve some fantastic solutions in a short period of time that are easy enough to believe in the cinematic world, but for a plain mystery novel...well, I'd enjoy it a lot less if I stopped to consider how unrealistic it sort of is. I'm not taking notes on writing style; I'm enjoying being swept up in a mystery that stretches over 3 long books.
Ideally, throughout the writing of this blog, there will be passages or phrases that will strike me, cause me to ponder and reflect. The Dragon Girl series will not do that for me. If I can, in fact, make my way through For Whom the Bell Tolls, I imagine I'd be able to do that quite often.
Outstanding books I read in 2010:
The Catcher in the Rye(first time, believe it or not) by J.D. Salinger
The Jewel in the Crown by Paul Scott
The World to Come by Dana Horn
The Diary of Anais Nin(volumes 1 and 2) by Anais Nin
Beaufort by Ron Leshem
The Demon-Haunted World by Carl Sagan
There were other books that entertained me, but could not be put in that separate category. I re-read To Kill a Mockingbird by Harper Lee and The History of Love by Nicole Krauss. I enjoyed a book by Cynthia Ahern, There's No Place Like Home, and two of the Thursday Next series by Jasper Fforde. I put down a book about facism and the fall of a family; I couldn't stomach it. I randomly read a selection out of The Passionate Torah, a collection of articles about the Torah and sex.
I have about fifty novels lining my shelves, some of which have been around a long time, waiting to be read: When Heaven and Earth Changed Places by Le Ly Hayslip, a remnant of a college class I took(Vietnam Lit) in 2004. We didn't make it in time to read the book and I bought it, so I should read it. Plus the instructor, Professor Johnson, introduced me to The Quiet American by Graham Greene(a book I brought to re-read), Indian Country by Phil Caputo and In the Lake of the Woods by Tim O'Brien. Those were three of the best books I read during the pre-requisite stage of my Master's in Literature. So, I feel like I should read Hayslip's book. But a book must call out to me. It must be this book's time. I've had to put down a book when I knew I needed to read it, but not yet. I've had The Winds of War by Herman Wouk and A Tale of Two Cities by Dickens for a long time. Wouk because my mother's father, Popper, loved him and Dickens because it's a classic and I should read it. I just realized I have, in my possession, a book that was recommended to me when I worked at Barnes and Noble bookstores, over ten years ago. A girl, whose name I do not remember, Erin maybe?, suggested The Fountainhead and lent it to me. I never read it, nor did I return it, even though I promised I would. It, too, should be at the top of my list, but it needs to call to me. I must feel the need, be provoked, to read it. Sometimes the provocation is as simple as someone else reading the book and I want to discuss it with them, so I pick it up. That's how I read The Alchemist by Paulo Coelho, which should probably be on my favorite 2010 book list.
I'm feeling a little guilty about not returning the book to a girl whose name I can't recall. Also, I'm remembering something that happened once. It still makes me feel bad although I'm not really sure how I was at fault for what happened.
I was at a dinner party and the host was telling me about a great novel he'd just finished: Suite Francois by Irene Nemirovsky. He said I must read it and showed me the book. I understood that he meant to loan it to me. He was a little surprised when I said I'd love to read it and put my hand out. He said he'd just write his name in it and to give it back soon because other people in his family wanted to read it.
I didn't think anything of it until later when a niggling feeling told me he didn't want to lend the book to me. Why? I love books. I'm a literature teacher for godssake. I don't let kids bend the covers or throw them or put them on the floor. What kind of person did he think I was?
Well, I was reading the book in the bathtub and naturally, I dropped it. I've probably done this twice in my life and it was with this precious book, which by the way was not signed by the author, nor was it special or hard to find.
I went to Borders and ordered another in hardback. It had arrived and I was going to return the new one, when he called me on the same morning and asked for it back. It was less than two weeks later and I had continued to read the waterlogged book, but was only halfway through. It's rather dense and a little hard to read. I explained what had happened and said that I would give the book to his son.
He said, "This is why I didn't want to lend you the book in the first place." Obviously, the words stung. I choked back tears, feeling very offended and sorry I had ever asked to borrow the stupid book in the first place. I apologized again, reminded him that he now had a brand new copy and hung up the phone.
Naturally, I couldn't finish reading the book. I had to give it away and even when I see it in a bookstore I feel bad.
I made a small mistake and I corrected it. No one died; no one was even hurt. I have no idea why he needed to make me feel like such an asshole. Someone who knew him told me that he is a jackass in general and not to take it personally. But anyone who knows me, knows that I'm overly-sensitive and it still bothers me 3 years after it happened.
Maybe I should try to find out who I borrowed Fountainhead from.
Or at least read it.