america adrift

Summer is upon us, though the weather may not always be clear about this. There is nothing like being caught unawares in freezing rain wearing nothing but a tank top, shorts and worn flip-flops. This is what summer in Denmark is, and we like it. Summer also means beach reading, and sometimes train and plane reading, which we also love. I have some novels lined up for the following weeks, which I plan to read and enjoy on my own terms. The tricky thing about reading American literature in an academic context is that, yes, you do get to/are made to read some absolutely amazing works of art, but you also, more often than not, have to talk about them more than you’d like. This is an occupational hazard, and very much a subjective one. See, I know a professor who feels that Hunter S. Thompson is by no means worthy of further discussion. What? you say. Yeah. These disagreements are the whole point. (In line with this, I am currently planning a write up of the recent NAAS 2009 Conference, where one of the great things, of course, was the vast difference between people, papers and opinions.)

The books I’m planning to read are a result of neglected should have reads and recent purchases inspired by recommendations and random input. First in line is a book I was fairly sure I had read: Ralp Ellison’s The Invisible Man. I thought I’d read this one, but turns out I had read excerpts only, the prologue and epilogue and selected chapters in between. Inspired by Professor Brent Hayes Edwards, of Columbia University in New York City, and his closing NAAS 2009 plenary “Ralph Ellison and the Grain of Cosmopolitanism,” this one went straight to the top of my list. I’ve only had time to read the author’s introduction to the 30th Anniversary Edition, so more on this next week, hopefully.

Next up is John Kennedy Toole’s A Confederacy of Dunces, the famous story of educated but slothful Ignatius J. Reilly and his exploits in and around New Orleans, getting and losing a variety of jobs (sounds oddly familiar…). This is one I should have read, and since I bought it for my brother some time ago and borrowed it when he’d done read it, It’s about time I get down to business.

Then there is Saul Bellow’s The Adventures of Augie March, but the order of books at this point is slightly blurred. I also have, in a different vein, Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test and The Kandy-Kolored Tangerine-Flake Streamline Baby, and the very much less famous Revolt of the Cockroach People by Oscar Zeta Acosta, Hunter Thompson’s attorney (and the inspiration for the character of Dr. Gonzo in Fear & Loathing in Las Vegas).
In lieu of my travel plans this summer, where hedonism could (my friends would say will) end up the theme of the day, I may be going straight for the Wolfe selection after A Confederacy of Dunces. Suggestions are more than welcome.

As for this weeks literary output:

The estate of J. D. Salinger is suing young Swedish author Fredrik Colting on the basis of his re-imagining of Salinger’s most famous novel, The Catcher in the Rye: full story at the Times.

Over at Edge, Lera Boroditsky has an interesting piece up, entitled “How Does Language Shape the Way We Think?,” which is about exactly that.

Curious Expeditions has a lovely collection of images to show you: the most beautiful libraries in the world. For someone like me, who’s just spent the better part of two months holed up in a meh library in a building that looks like a modern correctional facility, this is inspiring to look at. Who doesn’t associate the word “library” with polished wood, intricate tile work on the floors, and an air of fifteenth century Florence? I know I do.

And finally, at The Australian, a plea for professors of English and Literature to give up particular readings when judging, or merely describing, a piece of art. This is slightly comical to me, but I also agree to a great extent on the futility of these “methods.” Indeed, I’ve just spent an entire term at Comparative Literature at the University of Copenhagen getting to grips with “readings.” My final written exam, last Friday, even turned out be a Lacanian reading of Mark Z. Danielewski’s House of Leaves. I feel the same way about readings as I do about postmodernism, and for that matter, religion. I don’t believe, but I am fascinated and would like to know more. And I think that’s a pretty sound place to come from.