I am happy to report that I finished two books yesterday in a fury of uninterrupted reading. One was Michael Chabon’s Wonder Boys. I, of course, am a die hard fan of one Michael Chabon. I think that he has Dave Egger’s wit without Dave Egger’s brutal pessimism. I think he creates characters that are real, that you can see, that you feel you know and sometimes I think that as a reader you can forget how important that is. Chabon creates worlds where people are forgiven and most importantly–you can tell he writes for the joy of the reader and not for the critics, the intellectuals, or even for his own characters. I remember loving the idea that one can be someone’s perfect reader. I think that I, along with thousands of others most definitely, have found myself being Chabon’s perfect reader. It helps that he is contemporary and alive (I love writers that are alive!!) and current and that they make movies out of his books (look for another one soon, I forget which) and it helps that there are things that are left to read. I think that my Murakami obsession wanes a lot when there is nothing left to read… Anyway, I really loved this book simply because it was so honest. I also love this shot from The Simpsons, and if you’ve read Wonder Boys and know about the Wordfest and the debacle surrounding the gathering of academians, this episode of The Simpsons would be something to watch and enjoy.
I read the greatest short story in The New Yorker yesterday. It was called ‘Them Old Cowboy Songs’ and was by Annie Proulx. I normally don’t go for the Cowboy on the range tumbleweeds kind of story but I was captured right away with this. The main characters are a couple who have started up a homestead and are in love. The man needs to work and make money and so he rides off into the sunset, leaving the woman alone throughout the summer. It’s a really powerful story and now I am interested in picking up something else by this Annie Proulx, who I have heard about but not read.
I also finished Buglakov’s Master and Margarita, finally! Synopsis: Say What?! I’d love to read it again and I think it is a best kept secret but I will admit fully that I have no idea what just happened. I would love to have had a class where we could have discussed this book. I appreciate Russian satanism as much as the next person. Really, you have to just read it to understand my perplexity. However, I have come across some really great stuff… Russia has done a TV series based on the novel a few years ago, I have no idea how this would work out… Do you think there should be a movie version? I think it would work well in animation.
I guess that part of my perplexity lies in the fact that I felt a kind of illicit siding with Woland and the gang and less so with Yeshua, Judas, Levi. It would seem to me that Woland is the protagonist, albeit one that causes mahem, murder, etc. He does it with more of a joy, in contrast with Yeshua who accepts his fate without a fight. Ivan the Homeless as well, accepting that nothing more can be done. Woland makes it all happen. Good versus evil seems to be reversed in this argument. There is a contrary understanding of the usual portrayal of the Devil. Margarita for the most part is compassionate. Of course, the devil has power. He has the power of strength and the power of knowledge and becomes more and more powerful the more people he dupes in the novel. Throw Pontius Pilate into the mix, one of the most damned men in history (perhaps even more so than Judas) and you have the same feeling that I’ve been describing. Of course the man is powerful and it is turned around in this novel to make him pitiable as well. You could argue that that cat is just plain evil… 
and I would agree, but remember when they are flying off to Satan’s themepark at the end of the novel and they are all morphing into their true forms. The cat turns out to be a professional and talented jester. So, the clown was trapped in the form of a cat. A black cat. It’s justified that he caused the most problems throughout the novel.
Just look at this: The author, Ladies and Gentleman… 
The tone of the novel somehow makes sense now right. He’s so… Russian… sigh.
Off to read more… Oh Wait! I want to quote something from Lydia Millets, Oh Pure and Radiant Heart… which I am devoted all my attention to and loving at the moment…
“Beyond aspects of pain that are physical, thought Oppenheimer, sickness or injury or privation, beyond the so-called obvious, suffering can be a work of art. It can be made of buried and rising things, helpless and undiscovered, song of frustrated want, silence after desire. It can be the test of the self falling short, constrained, distorted, disturbed or rebuffed, the vacuum left by longing, call without an answer.
“In a face-off with happiness suffering often wins, he reflected, not by being necessary hardship but by being chosen. Suffering is chosen over happiness by almost everyone. It is designed, coddled, caressed and persuaded; it is worked over by the brain so that it informs the limits of our freedoms and the shape of our fulfillment. It ties us to other people where happiness does not. Suffering is embraced.”
The most fascinating aspect of this book is not that the men involved in the Manhattan project have suddenly appeared in the 21st century, it is the study of their behavior as men and their inner thoughts about how they were involved ethically and mentally. The other characters get in the way of this some of the time, but I’m ready to forgive this for the sake of the advancing narrative. Ok, finally off to read. Toodles.
