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One of my favorite quotes:
If I wished to see a mountain or other scenery under the most favorable auspices, I would go to it in foul weather, so as to be there when it cleared up; we are then in the most suitable mood, and nature is most fresh and inspiring. There is no serenity so fair as that which is just established in a tearful eye.
From the Allegash and East Branch in The Main Woods, _ Thoreau |
| Some books I have especially enjoyed!
Well, I tried to read Moby Dick. Got about half way through and bogged down. The same thing happened with Two Years Before the Mast. Now this was all recently and now I am learning to sail so maybe it was not a wasted effort after all. Of all the books I have ever read, I suppose that All Quiet on the Western Front is my favorite. I seem to keep reading it over and over. I guess to really do this right, I should list in order of importance. Unfortunately, I can't do that. One book is more important today and another more important tomorrow. It is all depending on frame of mind. I have read some terrible books but I don't regret any one of them. The scope of life available in the printed word and the insights and perspectives gained are one of the most valuable gifts I've found. I will post my list and come back and add comments as they strike me.
If you have a favorite book and a short review send it to me and I will post it here.
TITLE / AUTHOR
- The Life of Pi, Yann Martel
This book defies description.
- The Road Back, Erich Maria Remarque
This is a sequel to All Quiet on the Western Front it follows the same soldiers home and chronicles their disillusionment at conditions in post-war Germany. Leading of course to the question of why, what was it all about. They learn how much the people have suffered and gone without.
- One Hundred Years of Solitude, Gabriel García Márquez
If you have not read Cien Años de Soledad you are in for a treat. The magical nature of the world as Márquez see it and the "matter of fact" phrasing of his writing are
Here is a small example from No One Writes to the Colonel:
| While he was waiting fot it [the coffee] to boil, sitting next to the stone fireplace with an attitude of confident and innocent expectation, the colonel experienced the feeling that fungus and poisonous lilies were taking root in his gut. It was October. A difficult morning to get through, even for a man like himself, who had already survived so many mornings like this one. For nearly sixty years-since the end of the last civil war-the colonel had done nothing else but wait. October was one of the few things which arrived. | |
- The Grapes of Wrath, John Steinbeck
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