Goodbye New York

I'm currently sitting in Newark airport waiting to board my plane home. What is it about flying that makes me hate all humanity? Why is everyone so much more annoying when I know I'm going to have to spend the next 5 hours with them? And why do I ALWAYS forget my iPod?

In the way of reading, New York was a bit of a debacle. I say this only because I started Eventide by Kent Haruf on the plane and was loving it. But then I took it with me on the subway to Brooklyn to visit friends and accidentally left it at their apartment. Genius.

Thanks to Amanda's great advice I did visit Housing Works bookstore yesterday and had a great time. It's this really great non-profit bookstore in an old library like building (balconies, high ceilings, and ladders to reach the high shelves) and all their proceeds go to non profit orgs. I bought a book there but then never felt inspired to start it and can't even remember the name of it right now. I think American hotel beds have magnets inside them that attract my butt, because I can watch hours of HBO and pay-per-view movies when staying in a hotel. For this reason, I never read as much as I think I'm going to when travelling in the US. International travel is different mostly because their beds tend to be less comfortable and then there's the whole I-can't-understand-foreign-TV thing. So anyways, instead of reading my new book, I watched like 3 hours of what is now my new favorite show on the BBC channel called Skins, have you seen it?

THEN, last night I went to dinner in the West Village with some friends who live in New York and they walked me around the neighborhood. We went to Magnolia Bakery and right across the street is this great book store that was still open at 10:30 last night. It was here that I picked up Like a Rolling Stone - Bob Dylan at the Crossroads by Griel Marcus. For some reason it called to me and I hope it doesn't suck because it's my only reading material for my upcoming flight and I don't want to have to rent a digiplayer.

New York!

Totally unoriginal post title, but still, it gives you the general idea, right? I'm in New York! I'm a busy worker bee tonight and tomorrow, but after that, Jeff is supposed to join me for a quick frolic through the city this weekend. Any suggestions? Where should I book shop? Is there a cool bar I can go to tomorrow night to watch the debate?

PS: I cried like my Grandpa died on the plane today because I just started Eventide by Kent Haruf and hayzoose, it is sad!!

Where You Once Belonged

Where You Once Belonged by Kent Haruf takes place in the same small Colorado town as Plainsong. The style of writing is very similar and it almost feels like a continuation of the other in that it takes place in the same tiny town and there are even one or two recurring (minor) characters. That said, where Plainsong was heartwarming, this book was heartbreaking.

Where You Once Belonged follows the story of Jack Burdette as told by Pat Arbuckle, both life long residents of Holt, Colorado. Growing up, Jack is basically a prank pulling jerk-off that gets away with too much as a result of his stellar football skills. Eventually though, the pranks get more poisonous and after committing a major crime that impacts the whole town, he flees Colorado. Only to return 8 years later and stir things up all over again.


I really love Haruf's writing style. It's so simplistic and honest feeling. Haruf's books have the feeling of listening to your Grandfather tell you a story; the way he starts sentences with "So" and "Anyways". The story is told in first person, which is a departure for Haruf. I think it had more to do with the story than the narration style, but in almost all ways, I preferred Plainsong to this book. That said, it wasn't like I couldn't still respect this novel.

Haruf has a way of describing human interactions that are commonplace but making them seem very relevant to the story. It's so rare that authors do this. While he describes playing in the river with two young boys, I found myself wondering "Is he only describing this scene because it's foreshadowing something - are the boys going to drown in the river?" But that's not why he does it. Sometimes he takes his time describing these scenes just to give you a more full picture of the characters and their connections to each other. It made me realize that so many authors only tell the parts of the story that seem directly related to the plot. You don't often find an author willing to tell you some of the every day in detail.

This is going to be a weird analogy, but it feels right to tell it so I"m going to. I still sometimes remember the scene in the movie "Friends with Money" where Jennifer Aniston's character is shown washing her face before bed. They show the entire thing - putting a headband on, pumping the face soap in her hand, lathering the soap and scrubbing all the parts of her face while she looks at herself in the mirror the whole time. And there's no background music, it's just quiet like it is at night when you wash your face. For some reason that scene was so poignant for me. Like I knew her character and understood her better after watching her do something so simple and private. Reading his books gives me the same feeling. Is that weird?

Plainsong

Let me start this review by thanking my friend Darrah, for loaning me this book. Because if she hadn't loaned it to me, I probably never would have read it. I've walked by this book in various bookstores many times without picking it up because somehow, I had it confused with This House of Sky by Ivan Doig.

I read This House of Sky for a class in college about 10 years ago and HATED it. It was all about horses and the old timey Midwest and I just remember being bored to tears (for those who don’t know me, I have a strange, but strong aversion to everything horse related). The cover photos for the two books are vaguely similar, so I always avoided picking this book up thinking I’d already read it (and hated it). Then last week, I was at Darrah’s house and she loaned me a few books and at the last minute added Plainsong to the pile. And thank God she did because this might be one of the best books I’ve ever read. I truly loved it. It was really beautifully written and so timeless. And best of all, it wasn’t about horses at all! I mean, there was like one page about a horse, but I will easily forgive Kent Haruf that one page, because the rest of the book is sooo good.

You know how so many movies these days are like 2 or 3 hours long? It’s like a movie can’t be considered legit unless it’s long. It’s gotten so that all movies are longer than they need to be just to seem substantial. Sometimes I think books are headed the same way. I know that I’ve sometimes found myself discrediting skinny books recently. Like the quality of the story is somehow linked to the heft of the book. Plainsong is relatively short, only 301 pages, but I felt like it packed a similar punch as East of Eden, which was twice as long.

Here’s the description from the back of the book:

“Ambitious, but never seeming so, Kent Haruf reveals a whole community as he interweaves the stories of a pregnant high school girl, a lonely teacher, a pair of boys abandoned by their mother, and a couple of crusty bachelor farmers. From simple elements, Haruf achieves a novel of wisdom and grace…”

The characters are so endearing. I can’t even tell you how much I loved Raymond and Harold. Really, I loved all the characters in this book. So much. I teared up like 5 times, but not because it’s so sad, although parts of it are. I mostly cried because it’s so heartwarming. I can’t believe I just typed heartwarming, but I DID. And I MEANT IT. I think I’m going to immediately start one of his other novels that Darrah also loaned me – Where You Once Belonged.