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May 9, 2019

Holy Bible: King James Version (1611)


So it’s taken me almost eight months, but I’ve finally finished reading the King James Bible from cover-to-cover. I can’t claim that I’ve retained all of it, or that my eyes didn’t regularly glaze over, but I’ve done it nonetheless, which I consider a pretty solid achievement considering how difficult portions of it are to grind through and how much of a plebeian reader I remain even after finishing it.

I have never felt very strongly about religion or Christianity, personally. But considering that I’m planning to read works like Inferno and Paradise Lost shortly, I felt like I should have a proper basis of Biblical knowledge when going in. And when choosing a Bible, I felt I should choose the most influential one in English-speaking history, thus I picked up a copy of Oxford’s wonderfully introduced and annotated King James Version.

I decided to take copious amounts of notes whenever reading so I could refer to them when finally constructing my review (you can see summarized versions of my notes on every single book of the Bible at the bottom of this review). The only “rule” I set for myself was that I would skip not a single page, no matter the content nor how it was presented. I also augmented my reading with an audio version (readily available on YouTube), which I often consumed when doing menial work such as building marketing plans and other boring busywork at my job, or doing laundry or cooking—things that didn’t require my higher brainpower and left me free to dedicate it to working through the Bible. In the end, I ended up consuming about two-thirds of the King James Bible in audio form, and reading the remaining third in my paperback Oxford copy, which was presented more as a research text than a religious text, which I appreciated, since with each new book I began and finished, I did my own research on its historicity and its meaning both in my Oxford copy’s footnotes and various internet resources. So, in total, I assume I’ve read probably closer to 3,000 pages during this project.

I should probably note here that I am not a Christian, and I am going to review the Bible in a somewhat irreverent, flippant manner. I apologize in advance for anyone who might be offended by this, but please note that you have been warned, and you are free to exit if you think my comments might bother you.

I picked up my massive tome and my resolve was immediately challenged by the glacial pacing and archaic content of the Five Books of Moses (aka the Torah, aka the Hebrew Bible, aka the Pentateuch, etc). The logic guiding morality here seemed arbitrary at best to me. Most crimes are punishable by death, including but not limited to things like stealing sheep, or working on a Sunday. In the latter portion of Numbers, Moses even dictates—with god’s support—that all of the male children of the conquered Midianites are to be executed. Another thing that struck me was how picky this god was about the way he required people to sing his praises. He even finishes the book of Exodus talking about how patient, forgiving, and generally how great a dude he is, immediately after spending dozens of pages dictating how he’s to be worshipped and describing various crimes that should be punishable by death. I grew to see him not so much as a unique, all-knowing deity, but as one of the more meddlesome Greek gods who enjoyed endlessly fucking with his worshippers more than anything else. Maybe he was just lonely.


As far as pacing, Moses’ books aren’t so much paced poorly as they are not paced at all. Throughout these books the overarching narrative is broken by vast, bloated lists of things that must have been important to early Jews, such as lists of people and their ages, proper rules for construction of places of worship, rules on how to construct candlesticks, long lists of people and their families, or the travel log of the Israelites. I regularly felt challenged in my commitment not to skip a single page, but stuck with it.

The Historical books proved a much more manageable read than the Pentateuch. It was during the story of Samson in the Book of Judges that I had my first moment of enjoyment in the entire story, more than 300 pages in. Samson shows some similarities to the story of the Greek hero Heracles, which I enjoyed. The following books were right up my alley. Though they’re religious text, they read more like histories: They depict the various wars, political struggles, civil unrest, and religious schisms within the states of Israel and Judah around the years of 1,000 BC through 500 BC. As someone who lacks Jewish or Christian faith, I took to reading between the lines with this portion of the Bible, seeing it not as the word of God, but as a theological propaganda piece written by later writers, eschewing the concrete, historical and political reasons for the fall of their state and instead providing reason for God’s allowing of it to happen. I found it entertaining despite this, at least until I reached Chronicles, which felt a lot like the Pentateuch in that it’s nearly 100 pages populated mostly by dry genealogical data. I’m continuously puzzled that stuff like this bloats the bible, but I suppose if you believe in the religion, it remains important to you. To me, it was useless, and I retain almost none of it.


I felt the Historical books ended on a high note with Esther, which is a book that mentions almost no religion or supernatural happenings whatsoever, instead relying on reading more like a historical novella of the Persian King’s wife, Esther, that was readable and entertaining. However this leads into the beginning of the Wisdom books with Job, a book I found particularly remarkable. It’s beautiful; poetically written, involving several lengthy but appealingly constructed monologues. It also encapsulates the Old Testament God’s endless cruelty, in which he allows Satan to torture the pious Job by killing all of his children, destroying his property and wealth, and inflicting horrible physical illnesses upon him, all justified by being a test of his piety. Job questions God’s doing so, to which God basically replies “I’m all-powerful, check this shit out:” and listing all the crazy stuff he can do without ever answering Job’s question. There’s also some asshole named Elihu who drops in out of nowhere and rambles on about some banal crap for a dozen pages. I detested the book, finding it cruel without reason. It angered me so much that I took several days off of reading afterwards.

Contrary to Job, I found Psalms somewhat calming to read. Although dry, I can imagine this book being a favorite of practicing Christians and Jews; something they read continuously when feeling particularly pious. The lack of a structured narrative proved a nice break from Job, and I was gobsmacked at the sheer breadth of Psalms that exist. Such a collection must have been compiled over periods of hundreds of years, but I couldn’t find any reliable sourcing information in my extracurricular study. Since I was born a Christian, I am of course familiar with Psalm 23; perhaps the most famous of all the Psalms. Reading it within the context of the entire Bible gave me new appreciation for the beauty of the text—particularly in the King James Version. The drawback of this, however, is that the psalms began to drone since I was receiving no spiritual quality from them. I’m saddened to admit that I skimmed over a great deal of passages and retain little of them; especially in the gigantic books of the prophets Isaiah, Jeremiah, and Ezekiel. Although I found the historical books appealing, the psalms, prophets, and proverbs that follow them—although nicely written—did little for me.


As I finished the Old Testament and looked back, I find it most easily describable as “uneven”. I really enjoyed some of the histories, and I found some of the psalms and lamentations to be beautifully written. Some of the more fantastical passages, such as Jonah, were also entertaining on a level near to that of Homer’s The Odyssey. However, so much of it is bloated with instructions of worship, genealogies, and oddly out-of-date moralizing that made it an absolute chore to grind through—sometimes for hundreds of pages at a time. I’ve never grinded through a book the way I forced myself to grind through the Old Testament, and moving onwards towards the Apocrypha and, finally, the New Testament, I was hopeful that I’d find a greater portion of those books fruitful than I had the Old Testament, which I found cobbled together like a Frankenstein’s monster and, in most places, hopelessly archaic.

I moved into the New Testament and was surprised to see a more focused, coherent narrative in nearly all respects. It’s an easier read and feels like a breath of fresh air after completing the gargantuan Old Testament and the books of the Apocrypha, which felt unfocused and scattered. I appreciated the narrow focus on Jesus in the New Testament books. Jesus-the-dude seems to be a pretty chill fellow, but there are still some of his teachings I disagree with. I find Jesus’ empathetic lessons like “do unto others”, charity, and forgiveness to be appealing. But I dislike certain teachings of his, such as one’s marriage to a divorced woman being considered adultery. Since I have these personal disagreements with some of his lessons, I much prefer thinking of Jesus as a regular guy; a teacher whose heart is in the right place, rather than a divine being whose word is law.

(Let me break here and say that I apologize in advance to Christians for what I’m about to say. I know it’s going to rub some people the wrong way. So, I’m sorry about this. Really, I am. But I honestly couldn’t help it.)

Image result for el greco christ
As I continued the Gospels I couldn’t help reading between the lines a bit and developing this cynical view of Jesus as a charismatic, inspirational cult leader not unlike a Jim Jones or a Charles Manson. This led to my viewing the New Testament itself as a piece of absurd propaganda created by the leading disciples of such a cult. This notion grew so strong after Matthew and Mark that I could no longer block it out, and most of the rest of my reading of the New Testament became a comical affair. I was no longer able to take it seriously, and it became and stayed ridiculous to me until the end of the Gospels. My lasting thought on the Gospels is thus one of bewilderment and astonishment: How is it that circumstances have allowed such an obscure and seemingly ridiculous, cult-like offshoot of Judaism to grow to such a state that it was able to film the vast power vacuum left after the fall of Rome? It’s amazing to me, and maybe the single most unlikely and astonishing feature of the course of western civilization over the last 2,000 years.

Moving from the Gospels to the Pauline books, I grew to like Paul simply because he seemed so much more human than Jesus, who was such a picture of perfection in these pages that, lacking Christian faith, I was unable to take him seriously. I enjoyed the historical aspect of Acts for this reason, but my cynicism bled through once more, and I couldn’t help but thinking of Paul—a late convert to Christianity, and a man who never knew Jesus—as a cunning opportunist who seized the chance provided by the Jesus movement to make himself its head and promote the dogmatic, organized entity that it became after Rome’s adoption of Christianity as state religion, and after the fall of the Western Empire itself.

As the Pauline books continued I began to see the roots of what the Catholic Church would eventually become. Put into scripture and doctrine are notions only hinted at or touched upon briefly in the previous books: the subservience of women to men because Adam came before Eve, aggressive bitterness towards the Jews, the bureaucratic, ecclesiastical structure of the church, and the unquestionable divinity of Jesus. I found much of what Paul preached distasteful, and the freshness his books initially brought soon dissipated. This peaks in the book of Philemon, in which Paul writes a friend and urge’s him to take back an escaped slave. Paul magnanimously offers to pay whatever damages the slave has caused, but makes no comment whatsoever on the state of slavery and even passively endorses it. You’d have thought something as obviously evil and contradictory towards Christianity’s claims as slavery would have been commented on, if not attacked, by a member of the Jesus movement such as Paul. No such criticism is made, and Christians would wait another 1,800 years before being pressured by Enlightenment era thinkers to abandon the practice. I began the New Testament ready to accept what it had to teach, with my mind open and eager to hear Jesus’ personal philosophy. But I found myself sadly disagreeing with its morals nearly as fervently as I had the Old Testament’s.

The only book I really enjoyed in the New Testament to the level of which I enjoyed some of the fables and histories of the Old Testament was Revelation—the very last. To put it irreverently: This book is metal as hell. Literally. Seriously though, it’s full of intense, dark, mythological imagery that I found compelling. Rather than reading it literally, I read it metaphorically, and greatly enjoyed it in this manner. I finished it wondering how, indeed, anyone could read such a fantastical book literally; by necessity, the last time this thought would occur to me, though certainly not the first.

As I ended my read, I had the striking notion of just how much popularly understood Christianity does not actually appear in the Bible. Satan, for example, appears only a handful of times in the Old Testament—nearly 1,300 pages of text—and assumptions that he is the serpent which visits Adam and Eve are just interpretation. Further, the word “antichrist” hardly appears in the New Testament—and even then, only in the books of John. It’s surprising just how much of our colloquial understanding of Christianity has been formed by those preaching the religion rather than from its own holy book, or from later, non-canon stories such as Milton’s Paradise Lost. My own knowledge of the religion, which arose mostly from popular culture, was almost wholly unfounded in the actual Bible itself. Thus I’m glad to have confronted my own ignorance with this reading of the King James Version.

The more I look back on the bible, the more the historical books and the fantastical fables stand out in my recollection. I found the lessons of ethics and morals distasteful, and they’re quickly fading from my memory because of this. So I suppose what I deem most valuable about this long, cover-to-cover read is just the history and folklore of both Judaism and Christianity that I’ve learned from it—and this has come mostly from the supplemental reading I’ve done alongside it. And while there are portions of the King James Version that are beautifully, poetically written, there are also many examples of clumsy prose, even in some of the more well-written books. One of my favorite examples of this is from a book I liked: Revelation 14:2 “I heard the voice of harpers harping with their harps”. You don’t say? Harpers? Harping!?

So, in conclusion, I’d say that if you want to learn exactly what the bible actually says, instead of just what Christians claim in its name? Read the bible. If you’re interested in the history depicted and/or the questionable historicity governing it, then you should read the Bible.

The Bible is a tome that has been studied for thousands of years. At its worst it’s an archaic list of laws calling for the punishment of their violation by extreme violence. But at its best it features surprisingly kind-hearted blueprints of how best to live your life honestly, generously, and with empathy for others. The problem is that you’ve got to take this good-hearted stuff out of its context in order to apply it to your life. This contradictory nature is deep-seated in this book and thus deep-seated in Christianity itself. It led me to view the entire religion as a Frankenstein’s monster of paradoxes, and the Bible as a book in which everything was included—often to its detriment. The bible isn’t a bad book because it contains bad things; it’s a bad book because it contains everything. It’s so vast and inclusive and written by so many different parties spanning thousands of years of clashing social and religious norms that the philosophies it presents in any one chapter are usually contradictable by various other passages elsewhere in the book, and the stuff that’s actually enjoyable to read (ie. the folklore and the histories) is weighed down by the stuff that’s probably going to mean almost nothing to modern day readers (detailed lists of rules of worship and breaks of several pages as the narrator drones on through genealogical trees). I believe that its most fervent supporters would be as surprised by the bad as its most vitriolic detractors would be shocked by the good. You can find portions of it telling you to mercilessly kill those who break god’s laws, and a thousand pages later, it tells you to turn the other cheek to those who’d smite you, and to do unto others as you’d have them do unto you.

When you read the Bible cover-to-cover, it’s a puzzling mess. It lacks the strong spiritual direction that one might wish to gain from it. It’s a book that is not only vulnerable to selective reading, but almost requires it of the reader in order for them to take any sort of guidance whatsoever from its lessons. After finishing it I can clearly see why many Christians seem to disregard the Old Testament completely in favor of the New Testament, and why they often don’t read their own holy book cover-to-cover, but instead prefer to rely on the spiritual guidance of their priests.

I can’t say I enjoyed my time with the Bible, even if reading the entire thing cover-to-cover provided me with a deeper, more nuanced view on Christianity, Jews, Christians, and their books. And I can’t say that it made me a Christian, either. I still view my best life as one lived without the Bible’s moral guidance. So I can’t call my opinion of the book a positive one, despite certain portions of it remaining an entertaining and/or enlightening read.

Perhaps the one thing I can say with absolute certainty is that I’ll never read it again.

Most-liked books: Judges, Esther, Tobit, Judith, Revelation

Least-liked books: Genesis, Leviticus, Numbers, Deuteronomy, Chronicles, Job

Progress diary:

October 25, 2018 – Started Reading
October 27, 2018 – 
page 34
 
 1.88% "Very much not a fan of Genesis."
November 3, 2018 – 
page 51
 
 2.82%
December 3, 2018 – 
page 74
 
 4.1% "Finally grinded through Genesis, and it only took me 2 months! Only 1,725 pages to go!"
December 21, 2018 – 
page 106
 
 5.87% "It will be a hell of a day when this one is finally cleared from my "Currently Reading" shelf. Uh, no pun intended."
January 24, 2019 – 
page 118
 
 6.53% "I am not enjoying myself. Hopefully it's just the old testament, but I have a feeling it's not.

Genesis and Exodus in the bag, Leviticus up next.

I'm looking forward to never having to read this again, but I'll give it as fair a review as I can."
January 25, 2019 – 
page 263
 
 14.56% "Books of Moses are now in the rearview, thank god (heh).

Since I decided to read and review this, I decided also to write my review alongside my read since the Bible is so long. I'm already at 7 pages and nearly 3,000 words, but only 15% done. Whoops.

Not sure what Goodreads' review character limit is, but this will probably be pushing up against it at best."
February 1, 2019 – 
page 294
 
 16.28% "Joshua, in general, was probably the easiest read I've had since the beginning of Genesis or the beginning of Exodus. I was coming near to enjoying myself until it devolved once again into an lengthy list, this time of the lands conquered by Joshua. If we could get past this type of cataloging I think I'd be enjoying this read much more than I am. These names and lands mean almost nothing to me."
February 1, 2019 – 
page 330
 
 18.27% "Book of Judges done. A more structured read when compared to previous books.

I find the idea of a book about the Israelites defending their newly gained territory with the appointment of military "Judges" (warlords?) compelling.

Samson and Heracles similarities.

The Israelites swaying from the disciplines required by their covenant with god seems to be a notable recurring theme.

No long, monotonous lists!"
February 4, 2019 – 
page 371
 
 20.54% "Ruth: Small book. Alright.

1 Samuel: I liked this one. We're moving further away from the Pentateuch's tendency to instruct worship over telling a story.

One noteworthy occurrence is God getting angry with Saul for his refusal to commit genocide against the Amalekites.

Hey, I've heard of David. In fact I've seen a few statues of the fella.

RIP Jonathan. (That's my name too.)"
February 5, 2019 – 
page 406
 
 22.48% "2 Samuel: The ambiguity of David and Jonathan's deep, mutual affection provides the potential for a homosexual relationship between the two. Quite the interesting possibility that adds depth to David's backstory.

I enjoyed David's humanity and fallibility in this section. I find myself disregarding God's direct intervention and instead viewing David's misfortunes as typical political machinations common to monarchy."
February 6, 2019 – 
page 446
 
 24.7% "1 Kings: Solomon's got 700 wives and concubines. Seems reasonable.

This book sees depiction of civil war and religious schism among Israel and Judah. The more human civilization changes, the more it stays the same, I suppose. Makes you wonder if we'll ever get past this kind of thing that's been happening now for 3,000+ years."
February 6, 2019 – 
page 485
 
 26.85% "2 Kings: Prophets magicking things. Queen Jezebel sleeps with the fishes. Er, dogs. Those blasted Assyrians roll on through Israel. Then those blasted Babylonians roll on through Judah, once against dispersing our heroic (?) Israelites into the wind. And God is pretty mad at everyone throughout because they do evil by not listening to him."
February 6, 2019 – 
page 522
 
 28.9% "1 Chronicles: True to its name, it's a chronicle the various genealogies of the Israelites who came out of Egypt. The driest, most monotonous mess of nonsense I've encountered in the Bible thus far--beating out even the Pentateuch.

It has almost no relevance to modern day readers and, at best, serves only to catalog events already described. Worthless for my reading purposes.

I'm going to need a break pretty soon."
February 7, 2019 – 
page 566
 
 31.34% "2 Chronicles: The first named appearance of Satan (that I can recall, anyway) as a servant of God who commands the taking of numbers.

I don't recall him mentioned specifically by name in any of the prior books. Interesting just how strong a presence he has to modern Christians considering his lack of screen time in the actual freaking Bible.

I wonder if Milton anticipated his impact on the religion. Doubtful."
February 8, 2019 – 
page 597
 
 33.06% "Ezra: I discovered during extra reading (which I do for each book) the blueprint of the temple here is physically impossible.

Some more genealogy and dry religious law in this one, too. Yuck.

Nehemiah: The capable Israelite helping to run a wider empire (Moses, and now Ezra/Nehemiah) is emerging as a common theme in these books.

The Israelites' reluctance to intermingle with other societies is interesting."
February 8, 2019 – 
page 607
 
 33.61% "Esther: A short book, but far more enjoyable read than the previous two chapters. No mention of gods or religious rules, no genealogies. Some politicking, a memorable heroine, and lots of drama.

Notable is the whole "every man should bear rule in his own house" crap that still hamstrings us even today. Funny how Christians who take this as gospel are actually living (probably unknowingly) an ancient Persian custom."
February 8, 2019 – 
page 640
 
 35.44% "Job: A beautiful but appalling book in which Job is mercilessly punished for no reason, further displaying the cruelty of the Old Testament's God.

I find the entire thing detestable, I reject the idea that pointless suffering is praiseworthy so long as it's done in the name of God.

Made more interesting by Satan's appearance, as I still find him intriguing. Hurt by Elihu's banal, curiously out-of-place droning."
February 15, 2019 – 
page 692
 
 38.32% "Psalms: This is the longest book I've seen thus far, and I didn't get as much time to read this week. Thoughts to come next week upon finishing."
February 19, 2019 – 
page 723
 
 40.03% "Psalms: I'm ashamed to admit I zoned out for most of this entire book. It's incredibly long and most of it is just recorded verse celebrating religious statutes. It really did nothing for me, though I can see why it'd be an oft reread portion by worshipers."
February 20, 2019 – 
page 751
 
 41.58% "Proverbs: Pretty much what you'd expect given the title, a set of Christian-inspired proverbs and moralistic stories."
February 20, 2019 – 
page 765
 
 42.36% "Ecclesiastes: An odd book. Seems to want to be focused on living in the moment and enjoying life, but constantly contradicts such a notion with orthodox thoughts lifted from prior books.

Song of Solomon: Alright, I was completely unprepared for this one. To summarize; they're talkin' about fuckin'."
February 27, 2019 – 
page 827
 
 45.79% "Isaiah: Very long book. Portions of it were difficult to read but it did include some nice poetic passages.

The bible is such an odd "book". Messy, weird pacing, retreading events already covered at seemingly arbitrary places. I pity whomever had the actual task of organizing all of these books.

Jeremiah is next but I'm traveling to Southeast Asia for the next couple of weeks, so don't expect another update soon."
March 18, 2019 – 
page 897
 
 49.67% "Jeremiah: The story of a prophet whose warnings of destruction are ignored is a very compelling story. There remains a tone of hopefulness throughout but, as usual, this being a religious text renders most of its potential storytelling impact dry and unengaging to me—a non-Christian."
March 21, 2019 – 
page 903
 
 50.0% "Lamentations: A short poetic book centered on Jeremiah's sadness at the fall of Jerusalem. At face value, Jerusalem is destroyed—its people raped and tortured—all because of their failure in their covenant with their god. However, when looking at the book as a cry of misery after a sacking, it takes a significantly different shape from that which is present on paper."
April 1, 2019 – 
page 968
 
 53.6% "Ezekiel: Quite the scatterbrained book. A bit abstract; I found it difficult to keep track of the actual narrative. Humorously, they read like the ramblings of a mad prophet more than anything concrete or meaningful to non-believers.

I was unable to locate the famous quotation Jules makes in Tarantino's famous film Pulp Fiction, but I did find several Ezekiel passages which clearly inspired Tarantino's pen."
April 2, 2019 – 
page 987
 
 54.65% "Daniel: Jewish resistance to foreign tyranny. Egyptians and Babylonians mostly, seems a recurring them, one which again appears in Daniel. Interestingly, the bible inspires much of Western culture—itself including an innate anathema and fierce resistance to the encroachment of the tyranny of foreign powers.

I'm happy to see the emergence of history I'm familiar with; namely, Alexander of Macedon's conquest."
April 2, 2019 – 
page 996
 
 55.15% "Hosea: Angry tones discussing literal and symbolic adultery, YHWH's unhappy relationship with his worshipers, who continually seem to turn to other deities."
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1006
 
 55.7% "Joel: Short book in which the infamous plague of locusts appears that everyone always talks about, continuing the narrative of YHWH's wrath with his Israelites.

Amos: Another short book containing ruminations on the destruction of Israel. Odd that these prophets were supposedly all active in the same era, yet were unaware of the others. Was there no Prophets' Club where they all hung out at the Temple?"
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1016
 
 56.26% "Obadiah: Shortest book thus far. More of the same; this time a vision specifically regarding the fall of Edom, one of the smaller Jewish states in the area.

Jonah: I like the more narrative-driven books and enjoyed the fantastical nature of Jonah, which reads more like a Christian version of the Odyssey despite its brevity. Oh, and god is still kind of a dick.

Micah: Short book. Added detail of the fall Jerusalem."
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1024
 
 56.7% "Nahum: My Egyptian history is pretty fuzzy so it's always nice to have the opportunity to learn more about it, even from religious texts. Nahum discusses the fall of the great Egyptian city of Thebes to the Assyrians.

Habakkuk: Short book mostly focused on the prophet Habakkuk's faith, including a psalm towards the end.

Zephaniah: Another short book discussing the broken covenant and god's wrath."
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1039
 
 57.53% "Haggai: Another short book concerning the building of the second temple of Jerusalem, later destroyed by the Romans under Titus during their sack of Jerusalem in the 1st century AD.

Zechariah: Concerning the return of the Jews to Judah, signalling the end of the Babylonian captivity.

Malachi: Endcap to the Old Testament focused on the Israelites once again making commitment to follow god's laws post-exile."
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1039
 
 57.53% "**END OF OLD TESTAMENT**

Well, that was a grind. I've never grinded through so much sheer text as I did with the Old Testament—1,000+ pages! Some of it (histories, psalms, fantastical passages) was enjoyable; much of it (genealogies, endless minor rules of worship) was not. I'm glad to have it in the rearview.

Apocrypha (248 pages) up next, followed by the New Testament (319 pages). Then I can move on with my life."
April 3, 2019 – 
page 1062
 
 58.8% "**APOCRYPHA**

1 Esdras: I felt like this book was retreading some of the ground already covered, and on doing some quick googling it turns out Esdras is actually just an older, Greek language version of the Book of Ezra, covering the end of the Babylonia Captivity and the conquest of Babylon by the Persians.

I didn't find much use for this 1 Esdras, but I suppose I can see why it's valued by biblical scholars."
April 4, 2019 – 
page 1097
 
 60.74% "2 Esdras: Like 1 Esdras, this book arrives from translation; this time Latin, from Jerome's late 4th Century Vulgate. Interesting note in the beginning—what I assume to be Christian alterations or earlier work: God rejects the Jews and alludes to the Son of God.

I've begun to grow affectionate of the Bible's Frankensteinish composition, and the game of trying to guess what was added by later writers and translators."
April 5, 2019 – 
page 1108
 
 61.35% "Tobit: I can't imagine a lamer way to be blinded than by having a bird accidentally poop in your eye. Regardless, this fantastical story is a great example of how entertaining the Bible can be when it's telling stories rather than vociferously moralizing, or describing the endless draconian minutiae that are the rules of worship as dictated to the Israelites. I liked it, aside from the lengthy "son of" portions."
April 5, 2019 – 
page 1127
 
 62.4% "Judith: I'm familiar with this story through Caravaggio's famous painting. Judith's badassery inspired many, despite this book being relegated to the Apocrypha, at least in the KJV I'm reading. This is the second story I found greatly entertaining in the Apocrypha (Tobit, too). Hopefully this a sign of things to come."
April 5, 2019 – 
page 1151
 
 63.73% ""The rest of Esther": Apparently some additions in Greek that are not present in the original Hebrew text. I liked this book originally, but restarting the narrative again from here was completely jarring and I barely followed it.

Wisdom of Solomon: Solomon pontificating and moralizing to other rulers on how best to rule. Not much to say. I don't care for the Wisdom books and didn't like this one much either."
April 8, 2019 – 
page 1201
 
 66.5% "Ecclesiasticus: Another long-ish wisdom book. Not my favorite, but I suppose it's better than a lengthy discussion of genealogy or a detailed description on how best to construct a temple or the ark.

As a non-Christian reader I never have much to say about books of wisdom, other than I greatly prefer histories and moralistic narratives for obvious reasons.

I do like the mention of medicine over prayer in this book."
April 8, 2019 – 
page 1210
 
 67.0% "Baruch: Another prophet book. Supplemental reading proved interesting: Turns out this book was not included in the Vulgate by Jerome, but later added around the 9th century. Sometimes the historical context of these books (apocryphal books in particular) is as interesting as the contents themselves."
April 8, 2019 – 
page 1219
 
 67.5% "Song of the Three Children: A lyrical excerpt taken from the end of Daniel. Meh.

The History of Susanna: Another excerpt of Daniel. From my understanding this is only Apocryphal to Protestants. It is canon to Roman Catholic and Eastern Orthodox. Daniel saves Susanna from a false accusation of promiscuity.

Bel and the Dragon: Another fantastical excerpt of Daniel's book.

The Prayer of Manasses: A short prayer."
April 9, 2019 – 
page 1290
 
 71.43% "1 and 2 Maccabees: Possibly the most interesting clash of historicity so far. From what I understand, these books survive to us as separate Greek translation of the original Hebrew, which is lost to us. The two disagree in several aspects with one another.

In addition to this, the books recount the narrative of the Jewish rebellion against the Seleucids and the reestablishment of Jewish Israel. A compelling read."
April 11, 2019 – 
page 1290
 
 71.43% "**APOCRYPHA FINISHED**

With that, I'll likely take a break from this one until next week. New Testament is up next. Just about 300 more pages to go!"
April 12, 2019 – 
page 1331
 
 73.7% "**NEW TESTAMENT**

Matthew: What a refreshing breath of air to leave the Old Testament's colossal, archaic, sprawling, genealogy-polluted, dogmatic books in the rear view for the more brief, focused narratives of the new testament books.

Matthew was a far easier, quicker read, and I hope other New Testament books are similar. Noteworthy: Matthew's apparent distaste for the Jews is made clear in 23-27."
April 15, 2019 – 
page 1357
 
 75.14% "Mark: I'm not sure I'm educated enough in Christian theology to comment on the comparison between these gospels that depict similar narratives. Mark includes a bit more detail and seems to view Jesus as a more obscure teacher than Matthew.

Reading these, I can't help my cynical view of regarding Jesus as a cultlike, charismatic, inspirational figure. Forgive me blasphemy, please, Christians. I can't help it."
April 17, 2019 – 
page 1401
 
 77.57% "Luke: A relatively striking turn from the glum, pessimistic book of Mark if the more literary and rhetorical book of Luke. I enjoyed it quite a bit more. It was meatier in its narrative and characterized Jesus more as an innocent, kind teacher than the brainwashing cultmaster he seemed in Mark's book. I found it similar to Matthew, but better written and more filled-out. Not bad."
April 17, 2019 – 
page 1434
 
 79.4% "John: Features some of the best dialogue of the entire book, along with some of the most direct and harshest criticism of the Jews. Supposedly this book did a lot to shape medieval opinion of the Jews throughout Christendom. I can see why. But it's also loaded with some of the most well-known stories of the bible. I'm guessing it's one of the most famous, and one of the most read among Christians."
April 18, 2019 – 
page 1476
 
 81.73% "Acts: The break from the Gospels of Matthew, Mark, Luke, and John is a bit overdue, as those books began to wear me down about halfway through.

Paul is a far more interesting figure to follow than Jesus, as he seems more human and less Mary Sue. His writing is tinged with pride and irritability, and just due to that he's more interesting to read about than Jesus was, in all of his smugness and haughtiness."
April 24, 2019 – 
page 1493
 
 82.67% "Romans: I find Paul fascinating. An egotist, a man who never knew Jesus but swears by him as his lord and savior. I find myself viewing Paul in a cynical light; as a man who seized the opportunity provided by the Jesus movement, and set it on the path to the strictly structured, dogmatic entity it is in the modern day. I'd kill to see his reaction to how gargantuan and influential the church has been on Western civ."
April 25, 2019 – 
page 1520
 
 84.16% "1 and 2 Corinthians: Paul seems more introspective in this letter. I particularly enjoyed his comparisons of the Jewish reliance on "law", or "the letter"; versus the Christian practice of worshiping on faith and reading their holy books allegorically.

Noteworthy: What I assume is the first usage of the phrase "through a glass, darkly"—Which I did not know originated from the bible. I love finding stuff like this."
May 6, 2019 – 
page 1531
 
 84.77% "Galatians: Paul seems more insecure in this letter, defending his apostleship and retierating the unnecessary act of circumcision among gentiles joining the Jesus movement.

Ephesians: Beginning oddly with an enormous single sentence, this book stresses the otherworldliness of Jesus and lays out some dogmatic principles stressing the holy justification of the church, rather than allowing it to remain a manmade entity"
May 6, 2019 – 
page 1539
 
 85.22% "Philippians: Interesting how quickly the charismatic, non-threatening, cult-leader-like Christ has disappeared after the Gospels to be replaced by the divine one in this book. The aggression shown towards potential heretics is equally striking.

Colossians: Doesn't differ much from prior Pauline books. Supplemental reading indicates it is now believed this and Ephesians were not actually written by Paul. Interesting."
May 7, 2019 – 
page 1552
 
 85.94% "1 & 2 Thessalonians: The books are growing shorter as I continue. Most notable are some of the most direct attacks on the Jews in the New Testament so far are found here.

1 & 2 Timothy: Did you know the Bible forbids women from teaching or holding authority positions over men? You do now. This book is chock full of discussion on ecclesiastical organization and rhetoric damaging to gender equality."
May 7, 2019 – 
page 1555
 
 86.1% "Titus: Echoing Timothy in its distaste for the Jews (although Cretans are included, which I found humorous), and its stressing the coming bureaucracy of the new church.

Philemon: A single page but a vastly important book to me. Inside which Paul discusses an escaped slave of a friend, and urges the friend to take the slave back. No commentary whatsoever is made on slavery being inherently evil and wrong. Laughable."
May 7, 2019 – 
page 1567
 
 86.77% "Hebrews: What stuck with me most from this book was the grasping at straws to relate Jesus-as-divinity to the oldest books of the Hebrew bible. Great effort seems to be made to tie continuity to the New Testament here."
May 8, 2019 – 
page 1579
 
 87.43% "James: A book that reads like the wisdoms and seems to disagree with those Pauline books preceding it in terms of redemption via faith vs. good works.

1 & 2 Peter: Supplemental reading casts doubt that these were actually written by Peter, as the Greek is fluent and the prose poetic even though Peter was an Aramaic-speaking Jewish fisherman. The second book is particularly aggressive in its criticisms of the lapsed."
May 8, 2019 – 
page 1585
 
 87.76% "1, 2, & 3 John: Ugh. These books are representative of the chaos of early Christianity, launching into tirade against heretical teachings while at the same time featuring striking contradictions within its own texts (example: man will always be a sinner and must repent / man is born of god and thus cannot sin).

It's indicative of the growth of Christianity and the need for a more organized, bureaucratic orthodoxy."
May 8, 2019 – 
page 1606
 
 88.93% "Jude: A short book in which Jude continues John's rants against what were seen as movements heretical to Christianity.

Revelation: The closing book of the Bible, and an important one. Apocalyptic, complex. Surprisingly, I rather enjoyed it. I read it metaphorically, and I can see how troublesome and damaging it could be to read it literally. Yikes, Christians.

Also—finally, "666" appears. yay!

Review forthcoming."
May 9, 2019 – Finished Reading

⭐⭐

May 6, 2019

Shogun (1975) by James Clavell


Why the hell am I so enthralled by Japanese aesthetics? I don't know. I really don't. I'm a pretty introspective guy and I like to think I know myself better than most people know themselves, but when it comes to this thing I'm just dumbstruck.

Irezumi, the art of traditional Japanese tattooing
I can look at photos of Tokyo, over-and-over, and completely swoon just over the style of the place. I'll be visiting it several times of the next few years despite the flight being 15-16 hours from where I live. Lost in Translation is my favorite film ever. I love Japanese ukiyo-e art so fanatically that by this time next year half of my upper body will be permanently covered with irezumi (left). And in a move even crazier than the tattoos, I tried really hard to like anime and manga! And I still really could not adequately articulate why I feel this way about Japanese art.

I just like it. It's just a thing I like.

That's all I've got.

So of course I would read Shogun. And of course I'd like it, too. As we've established, I'm not really the guy you go to for an objective review of Japanese media.

Shogun is long, and epic, and it's totally worth reading, I think, even if you don't have my complex. It's got its flaws: I found the entire romantic subplot to be pretty hokey and didn't really care much for the main character. But Tokugawa is such a phenomenal character, and his development through the story, in addition to the main character's unique viewpoint of Japanese culture, kept me reading and pushing through to the end.

If you think you'd like this kind of thing then you probably will. Give it a shot.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

May 5, 2019

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (1985) by Haruki Murakami

As part of Murakami's early oeuvre, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World stumbles a bit in its execution. He was clearly still perfecting his ability to blend these ideas into a meaningful narrative. Hard-Boiled takes a long time to get going, and it's the most exposition-loaded Murakami novel I've ever read (and I've read quite a few at this point), but there's a reason for that. This is a book with an exceptionally big brain: Murakami has long been inventive and imaginative, but Hard-Boiled sees him dipping into science fiction for the first time, exploring notions of transhumanism, biocryptography (is that a thing? it is now), and altering levels of consciousness.

Unfortunately, to make room for such a large brain, it seems to lack a heart. While Murakami's protagonists are usually steeped in malaise and postmodern ennui, I've always related to them on some level. But I found little reason to care about the protagonist in Hard-Boiled, or any other character within its pages. I found myself wishing for a genuine antagonist, as well—I felt Murakami didn't go far enough with the potential mad scientist angle. So while this book tickled my brain, it seldom made me feel any emotion or root for or against any of its characters—something rare, considering Murakami has remained affecting to me despite reading quite a few of his works. It's got a lot of big ideas, but it's light on narrative, and thus reads more like a cloud of neat stuff to think about than an actual story.

That's not to say it isn't a worthwhile read, though. I've never seen Murakami this direct with his weirdness. He's more focused on exploring these themes and ideas than I've yet seen and he manages to remain topical throughout the novel, whereas in other books I feel he dithers about in too ambiguous a manner and often throws stuff at the wall to see what sticks rather than proceeding with a specific idea in mind to explore.

If you're a fan of science fiction and you like reading about big ideas then you'll probably love this. But if you're interested in reading a story and relating to the struggles and changes of human characters, this will leave you wanting in the same way it did me.

It's not a bad book. It's just not to my taste. I've always preferred Murakami's more concrete work (rare among his readers, I know), but I still enjoyed the places he took my brain with Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. I just had trouble finding a reason to care about all of the mind-bending window dressing beyond thinking "oh, that's interesting".


⭐⭐

April 24, 2019

A Storm of Swords (2000) (A Song of Ice and Fire, #3) by George R.R. Martin

I've heard so many stories described as 'rollercoaster rides'. The term gets thrown around all the time. And very few are actually worthy of that descriptor. Most books have some great scenes and action sequences, but very few writers really destroy their characters in ways that allow the possibility of a genuine 'rollercoaster ride' arc.

Martin does, though. He's now famous (infamous?) for it since this series has been adapted to television and thus garnered a wider audience. And it's a reputation that's well earned. I've never read anybody who treats their characters as cruelly as Martin does. You'd think the man was a sadistic bastard who enjoys torturing his masochistic readers if you listened solely to media memes and nothing else. But he's not, and reading Martin is not an exclusively miserable experience. He just has a deep understanding of what makes a good character arc that rends your soul into a million pieces and melts it down afterwards into something altogether newer and grander.

Martin is, more than anything, a superb character writer. And I mean that within the context of all literature, not just genre fiction. Now, I haven't read everything under the sun. I've read comparatively little to many of you. But Martin is one of the best character writers I've ever read. He has his weaknesses (awful love scenes, cheesy dialogue), but he writes characters better than almost anybody. He understands that for a character arc to really punch your heart into paralysis you've got to completely destroy them and let them glue themselves back together while we watch like a parent witnessing their child tumble down the slide headfirst on the playground. You desperately want them to succeed; to climb back up to the top of the slide and do it right this time. But unlike the parent, we're hopelessly separated from these characters by universal barriers and we can't do a damn thing but sit back and bite our nails, watching and hoping. No book in the series does this better than A Storm of Swords. The only other arc that comes to close to the several arcs we have going in this book is Theon's arc in A Dance With Dragons.




A Storm of Swords is really long, but it's also packed in pretty good with action. The Count of Monte Cristo, for example, is nearly the same length as this book, and despite what people praise to the heavens about Count, there are parts of it that really, really drag. I can't think of anything as slowly paced and uneventful in Storm as when the Count first makes it to Paris and spends 500 fucking pages going to the opera and buying a Summer home in Auteuil.


A Storm of Swords is the culmination of what Martin has been building with the first two books. Primarily it utilizes all of the pieces he set up in the comparably drab A Clash of Kings. Storm drops some of its characters down the deepest depths possible, only to raise them up again for a triumphant conclusion. And that's something that people who only scratch the surface of Martin don't seem to understand. Yes, he's cruel to his characters. But none of it is needless, wanton cruelty; it's all done in order to properly frame what's to come. In many ways, A Storm of Swords is the conclusion of the 'first trilogy' of A Song of Ice and Fire, if you will. Many of the arcs we've been following over the previous ~2,000 pages come to a head here, and many are concluded in cathartic fashion. (Martin is currently heading towards what should be the conclusion of the 'second trilogy' within this series with The Winds of Winter, but that's a discussion for another day.)

This book contains both my favorite moment of any book I've ever read, and my least favorite moment of any book I've ever read. It contains my top two or three favorite characters I've ever read, and my top two or three most hated characters I've ever read. At times it diverts from the main narrative to extremely compelling side stories that easily could have filled their own ~300-page novel (Beric Dondarrion and the Brotherhood Without Banners sticks out in my mind). It's these vastly different peaks and valleys that make this book worthy of the 'rollercoaster' moniker that so many other books aspire to.

And that's why people almost universally love this book:


I don't particularly like fantasy (I've read quite a bit of it), yet this is one of my top-5 favorite books, accompanying titles like Notes from the Underground, The Old Man and the Sea, and The Dead. I've already read it twice. I'll probably read it again. And there are no other 1,000+ page epics that I can say that about.

Definitely not The Count of Monte Cristo, at least.


⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

March 18, 2019

The Gambler (1866) by Fyodor Dostoyevsky

There's nothing less interesting to read than a stupid character. It's difficult to care about any of their observations because their lack of ability robs any respect for them you may have had. The plot no longer hits like it should because things happen due to stupidity rather than providence.

I've read little Dostoyevsky thus far but the one thing you can always expect from him are hyper-intelligent, introspective characters. They're a joy to read even when they're not particularly happy or well-adjusted individuals because their own ruminations—done so dryly and uninterestingly by lesser writers—are so genuine they cause us to call into question our own actions and motivations. Dostoyevsky's character play is what I enjoyed most from this novel, along with the obvious passion stemming from his own personal experience with gambling addiction and his infatuation with one of his students, represented in this story by Polina.

The problem with this book is that it feels oddly top-heavy. The first three-quarters are spent introducing us to the locale and the characters and their dynamics. It's enjoyable enough as a lead-in, but before you know it, the book is wrapping things up. Surely this abrupt conclusion is due the real-life circumstances of Dostoyevsky being forced to produce this book in 26 days in order to pay off his own gambling debts, but it hurts because there's a really spectacular novel in here exploring the damages of addiction (perhaps not just limited to that of the gambling variety) that will never be written. Instead of a slow slide downwards into a life ruined by addiction, it all occurs in the final 20 pages or so of the book as nearly two years are compressed into one chapter, robbing us of its intended and deserved impact. The ending is perfect but lacks punch that would have occurred had its second half been drawn out a bit.


Despite this, I still liked it, and I'm fighting the urge to pick up Crime and Punishment before finishing some more of the open books on my nightstand. Nobody writes characters like Dostoyevsky—I can't get enough of them. As for The Gambler in particular, it's well worth reading, but I am going to assume it isn't one of his best.

⭐⭐⭐

NOTABLE HIGHLIGHTS

“Do you know that one day I'll kill you? I won't do it because I'm no longer in love with you, or because I'm jealous, but—I'll just kill you for no better reason that I sometimes long to devour you.”

March 11, 2019

The Call of the Wild (1903) by Jack London


London's novel explores the theme of civilization vs. the wild in a readable, unpretentious fashion. It's often poetic and quite a beautiful read. As a dog lover I found it to be particularly compelling on an emotional level. I'm not sure if it'd have the same impact on somebody not as enamored with dogs, but otherwise I'd suggest it as a read to folks of all ages.

I liked The Call of the Wild but I found almost all of the dialogue to be stilted and unnatural. It puzzled me as to why two Frenchmen might speak to each other in their broken English instead of their native language, and I found their accents to be rather silly caricatures of what real French Canadiens sound like. Ditto to the Americans in the beginning of the novel.

On the other hand, London's narration is satisfying and at times profound:
With the aurora borealis flaming coldly overhead, or the stars leaping in the frost dance, and the land numb and frozen under its pall of snow, this song of the huskies might have been the defiance of life, only it was pitched in minor key, with long-drawn wailings and half-sobs, and was more the pleading of life, the articulate travail of existence. It was an old song, old as the breed itself—one of the first songs of the younger world in a day when songs were sad. 
He was mastered by the sheer surging of life, the tidal wave of being, the perfect joy of each separate muscle, joint, and sinew in that it was everything that was not death, that it was aglow and rampant, expressing itself in movement, flying exultantly under the stars and over the face of dead matter that did not move. 
And when, on the still cold nights, he pointed his nose at a star and howled long and wolflike, it was his ancestors, dead and dust, pointing nose at star and howling down through the centuries and through him.
It left a lasting mark on me.

I enjoyed Buck's early squabbling with pack leader Spitz, and found their machinations to be almost political in nature. I also found Buck's introduction to and later relationship with John Thornton quite touching. At times they reminded me of my bond with my own dog, a male crossbreed like Buck, to whom I feel similarly tied to. I felt Thornton to be a kindred spirit in this manner:
Other men saw to the welfare of their dogs from a sense of duty and business expediency; he saw to the welfare of his as if they were his own children, because he could not help it.
Highly recommended for dog lovers. Push past the tough scenes in the beginning; what comes later is all the more rewarding for having experienced them.

⭐⭐⭐⭐

Dance Dance Dance (1988) (The Rat, #4) by Haruki Murakami

Work hard. Live modestly. Look at the big picture.
Dance Dance Dance is surprisingly excellent.

Not that I expected it to be bad. Rather, I didn't really expect anything because Dance hardly gets talked about at all within discussions of Murakami's work. I've heard almost exclusively that Kafka
 on the Shore or The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle are his best novels, with small but adamant groups also touting Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, or sometimes 1Q84. But there is almost no mention of Dance Dance Dance in these discussions.


Perhaps this is because so few people have read Murakami extensively. He has a reputation for having a short shelf-life, mostly due to the fact that he reuses many of the same tropes over his novels. The fact that Dance is the fourth episode in Murakami's only multi-novel series leads me to believe that people either shy away from picking this up without first reading the prior novels—rightly so, in my opinion—or, they're reading it independently without the proper lead-in of the prior episodes— Hear the Wind Sing , Pinball, 1973 , and A Wild Sheep Chase —which is a mistake, in my opinion, since many of the events in Dance are a callback to prior novels that require your experience with them to have the proper impact.

No matter the reason, my point is that this book doesn't have the glowing reputation it deserves.

This is the sixth Murakami novel I've read as of my typing this, and I've read all three of the prior books of the Rat series, so perhaps I'm uniquely equipped to receive the quality of this book in ways which not many other folks reviewing this on Goodreads are.

I resolved to read Murakami's works in order of publishing after completing Norwegian Wood (1987) and The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle (1995) earlier this year. Having finished the first three entries in the Rat series (1979-1982), I picked up Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World (1985) and Dance Dance Dance (1988) in audiobook form to consume while traveling in Southeast Asia. I began both nearly at the same time and intended to "read" them concurrently since I had just finished A Wild Sheep Chase and wanted the events of that book fresh in my mind when reading Dance—which is a direct sequel to it—but I found Dance to be so compelling right out of the gate that I set down Hard-Boiled almost immediately.

Witnessing Murakami's personal progress as a writer throughout The Rat series is a treat. Each book makes huge leaps in quality. The first two are almost not worth reading. A Wild Sheep Chase is a good book, but very uneven, as its first half meanders along before closing out strongly. And then comes Dance, by far the best book in the series and its conclusion. You can chart Murakami's growth as a writer through each entry in the series even without considering his two "experiments" of his early career (Norwegian Wood, a comparably reserved coming-of-age sexual awakening tale which I loved, and the aforementioned Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, a mind-bending trip down the rabbit-hole blending cyberpunk and fantasy which I'm currently in the middle of). And that growth is astounding. He went from a writer who, though already skilled at putting his thoughts into words, was not quite skilled at expressing exactly what he wanted to say, or how he wanted to say it—and perhaps aping other writers he enjoyed a bit too much along the way—to a fully fledged postmodern writer in his own right. It's a bit tough to get through some of his early stuff, but I greatly enjoyed witnessing the growth firsthand and I'm glad I did it.



I've left too many loose ends hanging. So now I'm trying to tie up as many of those loose ends as I can.
In the most concise manner in which I could judge it, I'd describe Dance Dance Dance as the culmination of early Murakami and the best work of his early career.

I find it most easy to compare this book primarily to The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle, one which nearly everyone who has read Murakami has picked up since it's one of his top two or three most famous works. I find them to be quite similar to one another. They share similar themes of existential worry, the monotony of having your spirit pulverized by ennui, and thirtysomething protagonists who feel lost and unaccomplished. They also feature the same common Murakami tropes that he's famous for: The lost girlfriend/wife, the platonic teenage companion, psychic characters, otherworldly locations. The difference is that Dance executes its ideas in such a more polished, concise, cohesive manner than Wind-Up Bird does. Dance resolves nearly all of the questions remaining from its prior entries along with those within its own pages. Wind-Up Bird doesn't have the added baggage of previous entries and still it does not even answer its own compelling questions; something that bothered me about it and damaged its value in my judgment. Dance also feels far more smoothly paced. Probably it lacks the highest highs of Wind-Up Bird—Kamiya's backstory, or the cause of Cinnamon's dumbness—but it comes nowhere near the lows Wind-Up Bird dips into with its needless ambiguity and contrived weirdness. Dance is also incredibly readable, with Murakami's signature smooth, fluid prose that turns a 10-minute reading session into a ninety minute block in which you realize too late that you're now only going to get 6 hours of sleep before waking for work tomorrow.
Murakami's character writing shows a huge improvement over past books, and even trumps some of his characters in later books such The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle. Gotanda, the narcissistic actor with perhaps more than a bit of a serial killer streak, was a favorite of mine. He reminded me a bit of the Trader in Murakami's short story Barn Burning. I also really liked the character of Yuki, whom I found sounded like a genuine teenager—the teenage "voice" being something that seems par-for-the-course for middle-aged writers to bungle in frequently hilarious ways. The minor characters are also colorful and memorable; the one-armed poet Dick, the subpar and uninspired yet still successful writer named Hiraku Makimura—clearly a self-deprecating reference to the author himself after Murakami's own success following the more mainstream Norwegian Wood, which he published only a year prior to Dance Dance Dance. These characters occupy little pagecount but are memorable diversions nonetheless and serve to break up what could have been a bit of a dry narrative without them.

Like other Murakami lovers, I often find it difficult to articulate why he's so appealing to me. I don't care much for his themes because, as a relatively happy person who is satisfied with my life and facing no existential crisis, I don't much relate to them. And I'm not a huge fan of fantasy or magical realism in the first place. But when I read Murakami he has a way of communicating to me that seems more efficient than other authors are able to. I read him more quickly, I'm more easily able to grasp the ideas he's exploring than other authors, and I feel like I know his characters more intimately with much less exposure. It's as if he has a direct link to my brain. I love reading his work.

Murakami's prose is often akin to comfort food to me—easily and pleasurably consumed, though rarely as soulfully nourishing and impactful as a lot of classic literature I've read. I tear through his work at speed but rarely double back to reread certain passages, or pause to let their beauty wash over me as I've done with English written by Nabokov or a Brontë. Dance Dance Dance, however, is the first time I've felt that notion challenged, and for it to shine even through translation is remarkable.


This book features more profound and poetic passages than any other work of his I've read thus far:

“The sky grew darker, painted blue on blue, one stroke at a time, into deeper and deeper shades of night.”

“Even so, there were times I saw freshness and beauty. I could smell the air, and I really loved rock 'n' roll. Tears were warm, and girls were beautiful, like dreams. I liked movie theaters, the darkness and intimacy, and I liked the deep, sad summer nights.”

“Precipitate as weather, she appeared from somewhere, then evaporated, leaving only memory.”

“People leave traces of themselves where they feel most comfortable, most worthwhile.”

“I was reduced to pure concept. My flesh had dissolved; my form had dissipated. I floated in space. Liberated of my corporeal being, but without dispensation to go anywhere else.I was adrift in the void. Somewhere across the fine line separating nightmare from reality.”

“She was truly a beautiful girl. I could feel a small polished stone sinking through the darkest waters of my heart. All those deep convoluted channels and passageways, and yet she managed to toss her pebble right down to the bottom of it all.”
If you like Murakami, Dance Dance Dance is a must-read. It's gorgeous, fluid, profound, and pacey. It's the high point of his work so far, but the barrier to entry is somewhat high, because if you want to get the most out of Dance Dance Dance, I highly recommend that you read The Rat series in order:

1) Hear the Wind Sing (1979)
2) Pinball, 1973 (1980)
3) A Wild Sheep Chase (1982)
4) Dance Dance Dance (1988)


⭐⭐⭐⭐

March 1, 2019

Thumbelina (1846) by Hans Christian Andersen

A spritelike young girl adrift in a stream, on a lilypad with a leashed butterfly as a sail. A narrow shaft of light shining down upon a dead swallow in an underground mole's tunnel. A white-winged fairy floating to and fro amidst white flowers peppering marble ruins twined with grapevines, all glittering in the sunlight.

Thumbelina is full of wondrous, fantastical imagery. It's a heartwarming, touching and transcendental story. The creatures Thumbelina meets along her journey feel genuine and almost human, and she's confronted with their selfishness, jealousy, and bitterness. They provide a foil to her childlike innocence and kindness, and remind us that while such virtues often render you vulnerable, they can also be a powerful way of affecting the world and the people around you.

Thumbelina is an eessential fairy tale packed full of Andersen's endless creativity, and a must-read for adults and children alike.


⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Little Claus and Big Claus (1835) by Hans Christian Andersen

There's something innately calming about Andersen's style that heightens his stories beyond just his impressive creativity. His storytelling is so casual, even when violence or evil occurs (which it does, often) within them. This unpretentiousness imparts a sense of sitting around the fire and listening to your grandmother speak the words rather than—in my specific case—reading one every so often in my office as I take a break from working. It reminds me of filmmaker Wes Anderson's work; timeless, whimsical, colorful.

While the stories themselves are not universally appealing to my tastes, I almost always find myself immediately enraptured whenever I do open one of his tales. This is telling of his quality, considering I typically prefer overly serious and more subtle stories and Andersen's work is most certainly not that. I believe their appeal should be nearly universal; to children and adults regardless of personal preference. Indeed history has shown it so, as these stories have been read and enjoyed for nearly two centuries and adapted (even aped) into countless other forms of media.

Little Claus and Big Claus is one of his less well-known stories, but one I enjoyed more than some of his other stuff I've read. Little Claus is an unabashed con-man who regularly outwits Big Claus, and I was also pleasantly surprised to see the dark humor the story features, as my own sense of humor is like a strong cup of black coffee.




I read a Tiina Nunnally translation of the original Danish, whom I believe has also done a well-regarded translation of the Scandinavian classic Kristin Lavransdatter. I found her work adequate. There are times which I could tell I was reading a translation, but such is to be expected if you want something reasonably accurate to the source material. I imagine it would be difficult to do a better job and thus I'd recommend her.

My recommendation: Read Hans Christian Andersen. Read him if you like Pixar. Read him if you like Harry Potter. Read him if you like Wes Anderson. And read him if you don't like these things anyway, because he'll probably still appeal to you on one level or another.


⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Tinderbox (1835) by Hans Christian Andersen

Andersen certainly doesn't lack for imagination, but I was hoping for a bit of a darker turn that I didn't get.

The moral of the story: If you want to gain wealth and station, all you need to do decapitate an old lady and adopt 3 dogs.


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The Princess and the Pea (1835) by Hans Christian Andersen

Without artwork supporting it this is less a short story and more a satirical parable, but I enjoyed it nonetheless and found it similar in tone to some of the satirical, biting short fiction of Mark Twain.

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