THE OUTSIDERS

• by S.E. Hinton
• [rated by pbs viewers as #32]
• 180 pages

Holy crap, batman. I just read me a masterpiece.

In the many books before this, I had sometimes opened this one up. But I think the reason I put it back was the reason it was great.

You were about to walk into a book and a story that would not let you look away,

I can go on, but not before mentioning something that utterly shocked me throughout the whole experience…

S.E. Hinton wrote this at 16 fucking years old! To read this and to know that it was written by a 16-year old just never computes. As I type this, my mouth is still hanging openl

She achieves a maturity in her writing at that age, that most writers never get close to. She writes an enormous story as simply as possible, narrated by an innocent kid, Ponyboy, who is part of a greaser gang. They fight, they survive and only during this story do they start to ask the deeper questions.

I constantly saw this book as a companion piece to “To Kill A Mockingbird” and yes, it is that good. Ponyboy, like Scout, narrates this shocking tale about love and hate, perspective and isolation, uselessness and forgiveness, all with a honest, innocent, quasi-journalistic feel, as much so as one could attribute to someone that age. There is love, dignity, deep sweetness and a yearning ache that will stay with me long after this.

And she is writing inside the minds of boys and men at that age! Great honk! What I didn’t know about guys at that point, was…everything!

The Outsiders is a marvel. There is a short introduction from Hinton in which she thanks Coppola for asking her a million questions when he was making the movie of this and his dogged determination that it be right in her eyes. I thought that was a nice tribute. But I see now that he knew that any part of this story that didn’t jibe with her

vision would be the worse for it!

At 16, I think I was writing poetry about why some guy I liked didn’t even know I was alive in a lousy stab at iambic pentameter.

Not Hinton. If she was standing here, I would tell her I thank her, like millions of readers before me, for doing her part to save the world. This cautionary tale isn’t for the faint of heart, but every heart could use it.

THE HUNT FOR RED OCTOBER

• by Tom Clancy
• [rated by pbs readers as #43]
• 656 pages

THANK GOD FOR PULP FICTION!

I’m totally serious. Two books ago, I got well and truly stuck on Eye of the Wheel or Wheel of Time or whatever the fuck it is. I read 500 pages and was halfway through. I put it down and couldn’t, it seemed, pick it back up.

Months went by and I had to come to grips with the reality that if I didn’t put it aside, I might not finish this project.

So I went first to Frankenstein and slogged through some academic reading. Not a bad book and certainly an important one historically, but let me put it this way. I noticed I had 20 pages left and wondered if that would take me one or two more readings to finish. Not exactly a garden variety barnburner.

All the while, I have no idea why I decided it but I knew I would be following that up with Red October. I’d seen the movie years ago and liked it. And it seemed like a fun story.

Oh man! I feel like I’m on vacation! I started it yesterday and have already read 100 pages of the 600. But most importantly, I AM DRAWN TO READING IT!

It seems like eons since a book in this project has pulled me in like that. I’ll put it down. No, I’ll read another 20 pages. It feels great!

I’ve appreciated a lot of the books. And I will read them all in time, even Eye on the Wheel of Time or whatever the fuck that is.

But there’s a reason why guys like Tom Clancy are gablillionaires. They pull you in!

I love the scope of this. He includes about 1 – 2 dozen worldwide vignettes, all of which will weigh in as it gets going. That feels like very ambitious writing and the excitement builds in a subtle way.

Clancy is known for his extensive military knowledge and I like that he pulls those of us along who have no idea what technical thing he is going on about – not talking down to us but keeping us in the loop at the same time.

Very impressive – and captivating – and interesting – and fun! Praise God!

DONE! Just for giggles, it should be noted that I read this 641 page book faster by weeks than the 140 page

Frankenstein. Isn’t that amazing?

Shows what good writing can do. Sure, this was a huge opus about submarine warfare. Not my usual fare, that’s for sure! But it is a tale told incredibly well. And I just

kept feeling so privileged to be able to be entertained to this extent.

In the interest of fair reporting, I did feel the need to read the second half at a steady clip to get through a bunch of the technical stuff that, with a slower reading, might have slowed me down. But who cares? It was completely entertaining, so the read was great.

Maybe in months from now, I’ll connect to this book with deeper truths. But for now, a great read is a great read. I ate it up and came back every night for seconds. I feel so lucky to have experienced a fun read like this. It makes me feel a little guilty if I read another like it, leaving all the boring books to the end. But maybe that

finish in the end will be full of surprises. I know the rest of this journey certainly has.

FRANKENSTEIN

• by Mary Shelley
• [rated by pbs readers as #43]
• 143 pages

Well, it’s finally happened. I got waylaid on a book for so long that I just had to move on. The book is The Eye of the World, The Eye of the Wheel, something like that – so popular that he wrote dozens more of them.

Clearly, the demographic he was talking to did not include this babe. Oh, I’ll finish it. I’m 500 pages in with as many to go, but light as the plot is, I know I’ll be able to pick back up. But damn! I couldn’t let another month go by, as many already had. So I gently put it to the side.

The book club that I visited with my Ruby book had mentioned Frankenstein and really liking it. So I grabbed it and started in. Even though every page is about 3 normal pages, it’s still shorter than Eye of the World!

What a curious surprise! I had no idea that the book would begin as it did, although the writing carried me right along.

The creation of the Monster was almost anti-climactic.

Frankenstein makes him, hates him and discards him. Huh? Where does he go?

It is then that you see the skeleton for so many plots to come! This is Jaws! You don’t want to see the shark often. You just have to know he’s out there! I suspect this was an extraordinarily fresh approach to horror.

Oddly, as an ex-therapist, I find myself completely unwilling to therapize this – monster as creator’s dark side, etc. It seems that, to do so, would completely obfuscate the horror that is so important here.

Ten extra points down to you Arlene Francis for another salient point. The plot is utterly ridiculous. She doesn’t even explain building the creature very well. Yet, in the properly explained nomenclature of the piece, you sort of

go with it. You gotta give some style points for that. Maybe especially when the creator has a long discussion with the Monster.

“He can talk? In paragraph form?” you almost sputter with an imagined spit take.

I’m half way through. I can’t imagine the monster won’t kill pretty much everybody, but maybe I’ll be surprised!

DONE.

Okay, here’s the thing. This was written in 1818. Great honk!

I think we have taken everything this book introduced and made it into so much more – that I don’t have a feeling for what it introduced, you know what I mean?

Certainly there is the beginning of horror here, no small feat. But in the eyes of this reader, it is so overtalked that I never felt the fear intended. Again, could be a

missed-the-boat on my part. Also, the plot is so clear from the first page that it holds no interest for me. Again, 200 years too late for the rapture.

But there is an omission that I think is glaring. Frankenstein – the creator not the monster – goes wild when he is young and creates the first artificially made man. For reasons that aren’t the least bit explored, he makes him the most hideous looking man possible. Why?

Mary Shelley, the author, doesn’t know a thing about how he could do this so she just skims over it. As a writer, I can dig that. Too much explanation can be icky in my book. But why the most hideous thing to look at of all time?

And then he just dumps it, to survive on its own. Sort of described as his coming out of a trance, he just forgets about it. Huh?

Okay, there is also the strangeness of monster and creator chatting in a cabin, after years. In this talk, the monster says that if he will just make him a companion, all will be well but basically if he doesn’t, he’ll make his life hell.

Not an unreasonable request, seems to me. Creator does nothing for a long time and then finally gets down to making him a Midge doll. But oh, it is just too horrible, so he rips it apart in front of monster and says no way.

Why does it drive him mad? Seems like a solution worth a try to this reader.

By the way, I apologize if I’m giving anything away here. Read the first capture only and you’ll get the gist.

By the way, my choice would have been no one ever saw the monster. This would be way cooler. Does it really exist or is this creator guy just a psychotic freak? There you go! Suspense!

Then, at the very end, the creator absolves himself of any wrong doing. Creating the thing was just boys-will-be- boys. No harm done. Making the score be monster all bad and creator? Way delusional.

I don’t know. I’m glad to have read it. I have a dim feeling of why it is as important as it is. I just think there are – as I write this – at least a dozen books, if not a hundred, that do it better.

BOOK 62

COLDEST WINTER EVER

• by Sister Souljah
• [rated by PBS viewers as #98]
• 384 pages

Wow. The power of a unique voice. All of us who write hope for them, but truly unique?

Here is a book that I picked up, read the first page and found that I just couldn’t look away.

DONE.

From the start, the protagonist’s voice was indeed unique and mesmerizing. Winter is the daughter of a very successful drug kingpin in Brooklyn. She is the envy of all her neighborhood, with virtually every one she knows being obligated to her family and working on her father’s payroll. The money being poured her young way is endless.

Then, in what was a huge multi-yeared sting, the drug ring is taken down, virtually overnight. Her father goes to jail for many years to come, her mother goes crazy and becomes a crackhead on the streets and Winter is forced to figure out her way in life. Unfortunately, that way is fairly devoid of meaning, money being all she cares about. People who try to help her are tools for her to steal from, either money or their boyfriends.

Winter is both fierce and hard not to hope for, as the people who meet her find as well. In fact, what keeps you turning pages is hoping that she will see the error of her ways. But does she?

I wanted to have her realize things but instead, life just happens to her. That is the lesson. And though it isn’t nearly as satisfying, I suppose it is also more realistic.

She is eventually punished by life and all of those she has done wrong to, but with nary the illuminating lesson learned.

If it weren’t for this blog, there were definite moments that I would probably have dropped the book. I didn’t care quite enough about her to root for her. Hey, I can root for just about anybody for just about 15 minutes, but a full book? Harder.

But she is unapologetic about who she is. She is strident and she tosses those she cares about to the curb in search of a higher lifestyle that would allow her to not have to think about any of this. Not exactly noble, but it rings strident and true.

I have to add that, for the first time in ages, I read the second half of the book in one sitting. That says a lot to me, even if I can’t tell you why.

Perhaps one of the most interesting aspects of this novel is that it was written by real life political activist and hip hop artist, Sister Souljah. She shows up in the book, first as someone that Winter hates to hear on the radio, talking about values she can’t really understand. Later, Winter is forced to meet her and then steals from her.

Even though she allows herself to show up as the moral high ground, I have never really seen an author put themselves into a book in a supporting role where she actually ends up as a victim of sorts.

All of my words aside, I have deep respect for Souljah’s writing. When she shows that Winter, with her upbringing and skewed values, doesn’t see a lot of choices for herself, that is an insight that needs to come to our attention.

I found myself thinking of what I would do to get out of the scrapes she was in, but she knows nothing of those choices and was never taught them. She represents a deeply unheard from segment of the population that we would do well not to judge without walking a mile in their shoes. This book takes one that mile.

And also, the writing is like a bat out of hell! One of the reviews in front says that if a rap song could be a novel, it might resemble this. It is a novel of great worth.

Might be interesting to listen to audible for this. The speaker would have to be mighty, cuz with this book, the voice is huge.