A core goal of mine this year was to read more consistently. I managed eight books between January and March, mostly a mix of sci-fi and literary fiction. Here are some quick thoughts on each!

These [astronauts] found what had already been found in abundance on Earth – a nightmare of meaninglessness without end. The bounties of space, of infinite outwardness, were three: empty heroics, low comedy, and pointless death.

1. The Sirens of Titan by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. (1959)

I return to Vonnegut’s “we are here on earth to fart around” quote at least once every few months. I often share the story of my father meeting and discussing family and life with Kurt for hours in a bar in Banff. Despite this, I’ve only ever read one other of Vonnegut’s books.

Sirens was gorgeous. I haven’t found another author who stitches together humour and heartbreaking reflection so seamlessly. Even Malachi Constant feels like a spot-on caricature of modern figures. All-in-all, I feel like Sirens is a testament to the enduring art of satire and I cannot wait to read more Vonnegut.

With cities, it is as with dreams: everything imaginable can be dreamed, but even the most unexpected dream is a rebus that conceals a desire or, its reverse, a fear. Cities, like dreams, are made of desires and fears, even if the thread of their discourse is secret, their rules are absurd, their perspectives deceitful, and everything conceals something else.

2. Invisible Cities by Italo Calvino (1972)

This novella was a let-down for me. I’ve owned Calvino’s Italian Folktales for years and love picking up and reading its stories, but something about Invisible Cities felt underwhelming. Each tale describes a fictionalized city, which upon further inspection reveals the truth that it describes every city and the human desires poured into each. Maybe it was the translation that put me off it.

The door refused to open. It said, “Five cents, please.

3. Ubik by Philip K. Dick (1969)

Man, it’s literally Inception. Or I guess Inception is Ubik. Compared to A Scanner Darkly, which I had read right before the New Year, this one felt like it was written for the screen.

Quick. Punchy. Two “meh” endings that I’m sure were groundbreaking for their time.

He was forty-two years old, and he could see nothing before him that he wished to enjoy and little behind him that he cared to remember.

4. Stoner by John Williams (1965)

Over the past year I have had the immense privilege of travelling for work, which comes with the luxury of time to unplug in airports and in the air to claw through some books. I can’t remember where I first heard about Stoner, possibly through a YouTube Short or something, but I’m so glad I did.

Stoner is a heartbreaking reflection on meaning, ambition, and resentment. A pure, singular review of an academic’s life. I’ve found the final refrain of the book repeating in my head months after the fact.

What did you expect?

Are there any humans here?

5. BLAME! (Vols. 1-3) by Tsutomu Nihei (1997)

This was a ton of fun. A video essay on the “biopunk” genre pointed me in this direction. While it lacks plot, the conceptualization of the world of BLAME! is breathtaking. I will definitely return to it in the future, maybe on a sick day.

A person who longs to leave the place where he lives is an unhappy person.

6. The Unbearable Lightness of Being by Milan Kundera (1984)

I think we all experience a little bit of guilt when a friend recommends a “life-changing” book that fails to engage us. I struggle to remember a single aspect of the book beyond the core concept of “our life only happens once, therefore we may be forgiven for our actions because they’re ephemeral”.

…to wound the autumnal city. So howled out for the world to give him a name. The in-dark answered with wind.

7. Dhalgren by Samuel R. Delany (1975)

This is one that I’m going to be digesting for a while. I did the core of my reading of Dhalgren while in New York City, the birthplace of the author, and during a period where racial conflict was at the forefront of everyone’s minds with the ongoing ICE raids.

Dhalgren is a timeless novel. That is the simplest statement I can make. The use of meta-narrative and cyclical plot begs for a second reading, which I may attempt in a few years.

If we Orsinis did more killing, it was because we were more powerful and consequently we had more enemies and suffered more envy and revenge…

8. Bomarzo by Manuel Mujica Lainez (1962)

As a fan of the YouTube channel “Life on Books”, I thought I’d make a monthly commitment to their Patreon to join their book club. I’m glad I did, since I never would have picked this up otherwise.

One of the first plays I ever acted in was Shakespeare’s Richard III, and one of the last plays I ever acted in was Shakespeare’s Richard III. While that story invites the audience to sympathize with the villain and witness his descent into violence, the ultimate demise of the anti-hero at the hands of his victims is intended to be celebrated. The monster is dead. In contrast, Bomarzo’s similarly hunchbacked protagonist, Pier Francesco “Vicino” Orsini, is surrounded by equally “monstrous” peers, and his journey toward villainy is almost inevitable given his position as a 16th Century Italian duke. Plus, Vicino is way more petty.

What’s Next?

There is a distinct lack of female authors on the list so far, which I plan to remedy over the next few months. I have New Directions Publishing’s 2020 edition of Fernanda Melchor’s Hurricane Season on my shelf, as well as Daša Drndić’s Trieste on my Kobo in preparation for LoB’s April book club reading.

If you have any recommendations that seem in-line with what I’ve been enjoying, please reach out! I would love to hear your thoughts. You can find my Goodreads here as well.