All the books I read in March and April and what I thought of them

I actually cannot read (I could read in March) and I think it might be bad for my mental well being. I can't believe that now is the time that I am inexplicably overcome with a burning desire to blog (I have to do so many finals). I don't want to do any kind of formatting of the books and you are all just going to have to live with that. 

In February, the only book I read was Lolita, but I can't talk too much on the internet about how much I love Lolita because I think that makes me look bad. I just really like the setting; I'm not kidding. 

In March I only read books that were vaguely classical, except for Ada or Ardor which is another Vladimir Nabokov book about cousins who like each other way too much and also they find out that they're siblings. This book is so aggressively Nabokovian and bro really ignored everything his editor told him, so the book is too long and really weird even though nothing happened. I am told Ada or Ardor is supposed to feel dreamlike because it's set on an alternate Earth, although we sort of get glimpses into our world. I think it felt as dreamlike as everything Vladimir Nabokov writes; I just love that guy so much and his books make me feel happy and safe and like nothing bad can happen (like tofu and mushrooms and rice with lemongrass). I think I liked how time passes in that book; I know this sentence doesn't actually mean anything. There was a nice line that Van says, "this summer is so much sadder than the other." Every summer is sad for me now, I hate summer. I was listening to the music of Van Morrison whenever I was reading this book because I think I'm really funny. Then I read the Stanley Tucci book What I Ate in One Year, and my enduring impression is that Stanley Tucci has way too many opinions. Why does he care about things so much? He's so upset about modern society and other people's children and food, and I'm never nearly as upset as he is about any of those things. I never don't enjoy food. I like all food, including bad food. I actually think I like food more than Stanley Tucci, and I'm also a better cook, although I'm a worse actor, so there you are. I guess that one wasn't classical, either. Then I read The Penelopiad because my (delightful, perfect) Greek professor said I might like it, but I sort of didn't, largely because the print and the margins were too big, and that made the book feel superficial. But I just don't think it added much to Penelope's character or one's understanding of the Odyssey. The author poses a big question of whether Penelope is a reliable narrator and whether she did some really terrible thing towards the end, but it didn't feel logical or natural to me. However, the vibes were very good; when I read about ancient Greece, I want to feel like I'm in a patch of scrubland on a cliff next to the ocean and I have no rights. I felt this way. Then I read Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson because there's a kid in my Greek class who wears a lot of red, and I told him he might like this book (before I read it) because it's about a little red guy, and Callie seemed really surprised that I would say this. Then I read the book and I think Callie was scandalized because it's about gay people and also abuse (neither I nor the book, I think, is implying that being gay makes you more likely to be abusive), and the kid I recommended it to is Catholic (I don't know how Catholic) but it IS about a little red guy, which is what I said it was about. That's what it's about. The little red guy is really cute, and Anne Carson writes pretty words, and that's why I liked this book. Callie wants me to read something by Joan Didion, but I don't remember what. She really likes Joan Didion even though she also thinks Joan Didion is a fascist. Then I read the Iliad by Homer, who was eight men and a woman, like the Paris Olympics opening ceremony parkour guy. The announcers kept referring to parkour guy as he and I thought, well, they could be a woman, and AT LEAST ONE OF THEM WAS and I felt really vindicated when I learned that and proud to be a woman. The Iliad is lovely, man. The parts about war are sort of boring, and the parts about diplomacy and conflict resolution and scheming gods go so hard. I like that everyone who dies gets a little obituary that makes you really care about them, even though they only had a bit part. I like that every tragic thing that happens—including the war itself—feels so inevitable, like, they don't technically have to fight, but they are also never going to stop fighting (until someone achieves total and destructive victory). If the Iliad were condensed such that there were fewer boring war parts, I would have such an incredibly strong emotional attachment to it. I said something along these lines to my (lovely, perfect) Greek professor, and I have never seen her look so upset and scandalized with me (bro is a real Iliad fanatic). 

In April I only read The Lost Books of the Odyssey and two books for school. I was told The Lost Books of the Odyssey was a Telegony retelling, but that was not actually true because a Telegony retelling doesn't actually exist. I sort of tried to write one, but it really quicky went off the rails and characters started acting in ways I didn't like. All of my characters are just self inserts (this is what I have been told), so I'm not sure what that implies. I don't know who says this—maybe Mario Vargas Llosa (r.i.p. king, no, i'm not familiar with his political affiliations)—that all books should just be book reviews of other books that don't exist (this is what If on a Winter's Night a Traveler and The Real Life of Sebastian Knight are about). I like that idea; this book is sort of that. It's a bunch of short stories about the Odyssey and the Iliad that feel like a weird dream. I like when books make you wonder whether they reflect some ultimate truth just out of your reach, or whether beyond this world is only a void. Unfortunately, one of the short stories is a golem story that uses the blood libel trope (characters kill a girl/young woman and use her blood for a Jewish-inspired ritual). IF YOU ARE AN AUTHOR AND YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT BLOOD LIBEL IS, YOU SHOULD KINDLY NOT PUT JEWISH MYTHOLOGY IN YOUR BOOK BECAUSE YOU MAY ACCIDENTALLY PUT BLOOD LIBEL IN IT. Really great book aside from the blood libel. Learning from Las Vegas is about architecture and reminded me of the setting of Lolita and it goes off on modernist architecture, so I was pretty happy. Animal Liberation Now is a book by the philosopher Peter Singer about how abusing animals is wrong and therefore we should not eat animal products. I think Peter Singer says things that are sort of absurd (not the animal liberation stuff, I agree with that) (like the utilitarianism/infanticide stuff), but I think sometimes people are a little bit crazy and they should be allowed to be that way. 

This isn't a book, but I also saw the American Repertory Theater's Odyssey play in February with Chaney, and I have a lot of disagreements with how the playwright reads the Odyssey (she thinks Odysseus feels bad and I think Odysseus is too emotionally volatile and fragile to feel like he could ever be the problem) (and also, be so for real Kate, Odysseus has never felt bad about Troy), but increasingly I'm really glad I saw it. It was really, really well done; everyone involved was so talented and I loved seeing all of the characters' emotions and their struggles presented in a way that I think lots of people can relate to and see themselves reflected in. I hope they do an Iliad play, I bet that would be really fantastic and maybe even better suited to being a play than the Odyssey.

Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov (reread): ⭐⭐⭐⭐⭐

Ada or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

What I Ate in One Year by Stanley Tucci: ⭐⭐

The Penelopiad by Margaret Atwood: ⭐⭐⭐

Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson: ⭐⭐⭐✨

The Iliad by the Paris Olympics parkour guy: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Lost Books of the Odyssey by Zachary Mason: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

Learning from Las Vegas by Robert Venturi: ⭐⭐⭐

Animal Liberation Now by Peter Singer: ⭐⭐⭐⭐

The Odyssey play: ⭐⭐⭐⭐✨