On The Brief Wondrous Life of Oscar Wao (by Junot Diaz): I didn't like it very much, mostly because the author was trying to do way too much. There were a lot of things he didn't know, and he tried to cover it up with different narratives, but that just ended up sounding kind of awkward. If you haven't read any bicultural stuff and want to get a start, or are interested in books related to the Dominican Republic, then I'd say read it. Otherwise, there are other books in the bicultural/hispanic vein that are far better, and more polished. However, it's a short read, and entertaining (especially at the beginning, where it's very fresh), so since it's summertime, I'll recommend it as a summer read. Most of the problems were structural, but I think topic was also a problem: Diaz was doing too many things, and with such a short book! It annoys me that he got so much credit from critics for talking about so much cultural stuff, when what would have probably helped the book so much would have had it be an important part of the book, as opposed to the entire point of writing it.
I'm also finishing up a volume of Bertrand Russell's essays, and those are fucking (s)excellent. He writes very beautifully, with wondrous and complex arguments, and yet with a prose-like style that retains the personality and rhythm of good prose, but is not lost within itself because it is held together by the strong structure of logic. (I'm not very good at being logical, but Russell's big into that.) Even though I'm not very interested in religion, he writes so well that his essays are worth reading in this book. The essays I've enjoyed the most are "Why I Am Not a Christian" (the very famous title essay), "What I Believe," "Nice People" (a hilarious sarcastic piece), and "Our Sexual Ethics." Even with the essays I didn't enjoy entirely, they all had little gems of beauty within them. He's also very idealistic--even more idealistic than I am! I guess, perhaps, that's why his writing is so beautiful, in the end. Even though he sees the murky mess of problems, he can still see the solution shining through behind them, and more importantly, a certainty that these solutions will eventually break through. So even in the dirtiest of problems, you can find little things that make the entire existence of humanity worthwhile. I should stop while I'm at it on Russell, except to say that, I totally understand now more than ever why so many girls were shagging him. (Plus he was all, women should have sex with whomever they want.)
Having read these two books has made me decide that I really should just cut out the substory from the botany book. I'm going to keep in the actual events from the substory (it's just a story fifteen years earlier, from when the husband and wife met), but they will be seen only from the husband's fifteen-years-later view. I was, as Diaz had done, trying too much, and it wasn't worth it, with the really amazing voice that the husband character has developed. He doesn't even yet have a name, and I am in love with him. Having read Woolf and Russell have done very good things for this book, so I should see who else they hung out with so I can get better at putting all of this together. I'll have to cut some chapters, unfortunately, so while three weeks ago I had five chapters, I'll now only have two. But I have less to write, as well, so that's good. Here's an excerpt:
She slowly lowered the book on the ground, got a hold of my hands, and returned the favor by slowly sliding her lips against my knuckles, palm, wrists, taking one hand and then the other, possessing my hands in hers greedily and lovingly, like fruit in sweltering summer. Yet the weather tonight was not unbearable; the breeze came in time by time to whisper along with my own words against her ears, fingers fumbling through her wild head of hair, pulling closer and closer our sutural substance: souls saved by touch and rhythmic breath.
See why I'm in love with my narrator?
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ilu.
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