All in the Wrist and Other Excuses

It’s been ages since I’ve posted anything to this blog, and not for lack of thinking about it. Here are my excuses, in chronological order:

1.      November-December: “I’ll just wait until the holidays. I’m so busy, and blog readers will probably be pretty busy anyway.”

2.      January: “I have injured both wrists. Since my day job involves typing and other wrist-centric tasks, when I get home at night I can barely do anything.”

3.      February: “I have been sick. Twice.”

4.      March: “I’m having an existential crisis that is being exacerbated by a worldwide pandemic and a statewide shut-down the day before my birthday.”

5.      April: “I need to do my taxes. I need to do my taxes. I really don’t want to do my taxes. I think I’ll download Stardew Valley instead.”

And that’s how we got to May.

Truth of the matter is that, frankly, depressingly, inconceivably, I haven’t really read anything that good to blog about in that many months.

In 2020, I have read:

·        Two disappointing Steampunk novels from different series. One was too dry, the other too cartoony.

·        The Brothers Karamazov. I have loved Dostoyevsky’s work in the past, and because it took me a while to warm to Crime and Punishment I gave this novel the benefit of the doubt even to the end. At which point I felt betrayed by my favorite Russian author.

·        Two books by H. Rider Haggard, The Yellow God and The People of the Mist. I must be starting to really scrape the barrel when it comes to Haggard, because I have not liked many of his books recently.

·        Two books by Rafael Sabatini, The Tavern Knight and Bardelys the Magnificent. When you read enough of an author, usually you can start to identify patterns—similar character archetypes, rhythms in their plot pacing, etc. Unfortunately, both of these novels spotlighted some of Sabatini’s weakest storytelling crutches. I could probably have forgiven this, however, except both of these books felt like Sabatini suddenly got tired of writing them and decided to abruptly—and unsatisfactorily—end them.

·        The Saga of the Volsungs and The Nibelungenlied. I’ve had this volume titled Medieval Epics on my shelf for years and decided to finally read it. Both of these epics are basically the same story. And I didn’t even like the main plotline to begin with!

·        The Merry Adventures of Robin Hood by Howard Pyle. For some reason I have long felt that Howard Pyle was some sort of genius writer; not as well-known as, say, Walter Scott, but still lauded by many as a great contributor to literature. I don’t know exactly where I got this impression. But now, having read at least three books of his, I am going to be brave and finally say what I think: I think he’s super boring and obnoxious and not even that accurate to the original source material that he retells. And it’s not just because I’m bitter about his portrayal of Sir Gawain in his The Story of King Arthur and His Knights, either. Though that is mostly the reason.

·        In the Best of Families by Rex Stout. If you can’t trust a Nero Wolfe novel to break the bad streak of books, who can you trust? A lot of these novels seem to be out of print, so when I am able to find even trade paperbacks at a used book-sale or secondhand store I usually buy it, and even if the story turns out to be sub-par I keep it…because sub-par Stout is still better than the best of most other writers. But I’m seriously considering sending this one to the thrift shop from whence it came. Why? Because a dog is murdered. (Also a person, of course. But the dog is what upsets me the most.) The only possible redeeming factor is that Wolfe is equally as outraged about this as I was (and am).

Though this list is incomplete (and maybe exaggerates how dire the reading situation has been for me), I offer it as an example of why I have been so reticent in writing this blog. Who wants to read post after post of “Ugh this book was boring” or “I just finished a book here is what I don’t like about it”? I know I wouldn’t. And I certainly don’t want to write that sort of negativity. There’s enough of that in the world already. I prefer the more constructive undertaking to find books worth recommending.

And so I will try, even if that means sifting through older “reads” and reminiscing about them while I try to find something new to read.