Last December, published a post on some of my favorite books. This complimentary post, shares some of my favorite works of fiction.
The Old Man and the Sea, written by Ernest Hemingway (1951), published (1952); novella received Pulitzer Prize for fiction (1953), and contributed to Hemingway receiving the Nobel Prize for literature (1954).
Novella tells the story of Santiago, an aging Cuban fisherman, who struggles with a large marlin off the coast of Cuba; it is a short work, only 127-pages. I’ve read the book many times; appreciate the discrete number of characters, and the understated narration.
I’ve read many books by Cormac McCarthy, including, The Road, No Country for Old Men, and All the Pretty Horses, which often depict the high plains of west Texas. Each of these books was adopted as a movie. The Road, published in 2006, and awarded the Pulitzer Prize for fiction (2007), depicts the journey of a father and son, in a post-apocalyptic world.
I’ve read many books by Stephen King, including The Stand, Billy Summers, and the novella, Rita Hayworth and Shawshank Redemption, from the 1982 collection, Different Seasons. The later, was adapted into a movie, earning seven academy award nominations; there are sections of the movie that are quoted from the book, word for word.
The Stand, published in 1978 – oddly enough – centers on a deadly pandemic of weaponized influenza and its aftermath, as the forces of good and evil battle each other in a final conflict.
Algerian-born, French philosopher, Albert Camus, was awarded Nobel Prize for literature (1957); read several works, including The Stranger, The Plague, and The Myth of Sisyphus.
Camus’ writing focused on existential questions, including, the absurdity of life, and the inevitability of death. Camus believed that the absurd – life being void of meaning, or, man’s inability to know the meaning of life – should be embraced. Camus also addressed the question of suicide, writing, “there is only one really serious philosophical question, and that is suicide” and suggested that suicide may be an inevitable solution to the absurdity of life
I read the play, No Exit, by French philosopher, Jean-Paul Sartre, after completing my first year of graduate school, and first-year ethics, with Ed Freeman. Sartre was awarded the Nobel Prize for literature (1964), and was a key figure in the philosophy of existentialism.
No Exit, begins with three (deceased) characters who find themselves waiting in a room – a depiction of the afterlife – in which they are punished by being locked in a room together for eternity; the play is the source of Sartre’s quotation, “hell is other people.”
Read Robert Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance when I attended music school. The manuscript was rejected by more than one hundred publishers, before becoming a best-seller, after its publication in 1974. Pirsig’s son, Chris, a character in the book, lived at San Francisco Zen Center, and was stabbed to death during a mugging.
I’ve read Antoine de Saint-Exupéry’s novella, The Little Prince, many times. I’ve gifted copies of the book to high school or university graduates. The book, published in 1943, is considered the most-often translated, non-religious book in the world. “One sees clearly only with the heart. What is essential is invisible to the eye.” The author also painted each of the delicate watercolor drawings that appear in the book.
I read Margaret Edson’s, one act play, Wit, while serving as a volunteer at Houston Hospice Texas Medical Center. Edson is a public school teacher; she received the Pulitzer Prize for drama (1999). The play takes place during the end-of-life of Dr. Vivian Bearing, a university professor, dying of Stage IV ovarian cancer.
Dr. Ashford, Vivian’s mentor, visits the hospital, and comforts Vivian, reading from Margaret Wise Brown’s, The Runaway Bunny. HBO released its film in 2001, directed by Mike Nichols, and starring Emma Thompson; the penultimate scene is difficult to watch at times.
Film critic, Roger Ebert (diagnosed with cancer in 2002), named Wit one of the year’s best films. He said that when he tried to re-watch the DVD in later years, he discovered “I actually could not watch the movie. I remembered it too clearly, perhaps, and dreaded re-living it.”
I’ve enjoyed reading several books by Raymond Carver, including Will You Please be Quiet, Please (1976), Cathedral (1983), and Where I’m Calling From (1989). Carver’s career emphasized short stories and poetry; he described his style as “inclined toward brevity and intensity” and “hooked on writing short stories.” He shared that the reason for his brevity was “that the story (or poem) may be written and read in one sitting,” a practical consideration as he juggled his own writing between work.
His subject matter often focused on blue-collar experience, and was clearly reflective of his own life. One of Carver’s mentors suggested that Carver write with fifteen words instead of twenty-five; and later suggested that Carver write with five words instead of fifteen.
Carver’s style has also been described as “dirty realism,” and focused on sadness and loss in the everyday lives of ordinary people, often lower-middle class, or isolated, and marginalized people. Carver died in 1988, at the age of 50, from lung cancer. Carver’s final poem, Late Fragment, was published in his last poetry collection, A New Path to the Waterfall.
And did you get what
you wanted from this life, even so?
I did.
And what did you want?
To call myself beloved, to feel myself
beloved on the earth.
I’ve read many books by Paul Theroux, including, The Great Railway Bazaar, The Old Patagonian Express, Riding the Iron Rooster, and Dark Star Safari. These are travel books, documenting the author’s slow, overland travel, taking some of the classic trains of the world; the journey is often uncomfortable, unpredictable, and often requires great patience.
I’ve read many books by Pico Iyer, including Video Night in Katmandu, The Lady and the Monk, Cuba and the Night, and The Art of Stillness. Iyer studied in both England and California, subsequently teaching literature at Harvard, before joining Time Magazine as a staff writer. Writing themes often merge world travel, and spiritual matters. As a travel writer, he often writes about living between the cracks, and outside fixed categories. Many of his books focus on trying to see from within some society, or way of life, but with an outsider’s perspective. Iyer has led periodic discussions at San Francisco Zen Center.
I’ve read many books on Zen, including Zen Mind Beginners Mind (Shunryu Suzuki), Mindfulness in Plain English (Bhante Henepola Gunaratana), and Zen Flesh Zen Bones (Paul Reps). When asked for recommendations, these titles are approachable and less esoteric.
Shunryu Suzuki founded San Francisco Zen Center; Zen Mind Beginner’s Mind, is a collection from his public talks, and lends itself to reading or re-reading slowly, year after year.
Mindfulness in Plain English, is a practical text; met the author in 2019, “Bhante G” when I visited his monastery in West Virginia, Bhavana Society, outside of Washington DC. He is a modest man, gentle, generous, and very hard-working, despite his advanced age.
Zen Flesh, Zen Bones, compiled by Paul Reps (1957), was recommended by my friend, Eric. The book includes: 101 Zen stories, the Gateless Gate (mumonkan), and the ten ox-herding pictures. Often times, Zen koans (teaching stories), include an overwhelming amount of interpretation and commentary. What I appreciate about this collection, is that there is no commentary; one may read and re-read the stories, and reflect similar to a Rorschach test.
garthmonroe 