36. Adventures of Huckleberry Finn

Adventures of Huckleberry Finn, Mark Twain
Google e-book, 313 pages, 1885

Earlier this year, a publisher decided to print an edition of Adventures of Huckleberry Finn that substituted "slave" for a certain infamous racial slur that occurs 219 times in the novel. This is not all that interesting in and of itself, but around the same time, this jackass decided to attempt to turn around a lifetime of violent racism by "apologizing" for it on national television, and a comment on Metafilter decided to pull the two stories together and set a quote from said jackass ("And I found out there is no way I could be saved and get to heaven and still not like blacks") against the climactic scene in Huck Finn, in which Huck decides that he will go to hell rather than turn Jim in to his owner. That comparison alone was enough to make me reconsider the novel I'd read as an 11th grade AP English student and completely dismissed because it was written in dialect and was about a bunch of hicks and, like, slavery was over anyway. (Oh how embarrassing it is to recall this.)

Upon rereading, I still don't think Huckleberry Finn is a watershed moment in the history of American race relations. The climax is a truly life-changing and dramatic moment, but there are so many problems in the rest of the book (particularly the portrayal of Jim as a servile buffoon) that it loses some of its impact, and overall the messages are mixed. I do admire it for other reasons, though. Huck's voice is charming and expressive, and signified a break from proper British prose and the beginning of a genuine American literature. The book works best as a coming-of-age story, the story of Huck's search for freedom and developing sense of right and wrong (not only regarding Jim and slavery but also in scenes like the attempted swindle of the Wilks sisters, from which Jim is completely absent).

Among all the book endings I've read this year (or ever, really), the last paragraph of Huck Finn is one of my favorites:

"Tom's most well now, and got his bullet around his neck on a watch-guard for a watch, and is always seeing what time it is, and so there ain't nothing more to write about, and I am rotten glad of it, because if I'd a knowed what a trouble it was to make a book I wouldn't a tackled it, and ain't a-going to no more.  But I reckon I got to light out for the Territory ahead of the rest, because Aunt Sally she's going to adopt me and sivilize me, and I can't stand it.  I been there before."

(Note: I read this Google ebook, which seems to be the only free copy in Google Books that is plain text instead of a scanned PDF. I think they used some kind of text-recognition software to convert it--most of it is okay, but there are times when it tries to turn dialect into "real" words [for example, "clumb," the past tense of "climb" in Huck's dialect, becomes "dumb"], and it really, REALLY doesn't like Jim's speech and periodically turns it into sprays of random letters and punctuation marks. I had to consult the print version a couple times to figure out what was going on. Probably worth paying the 5 bucks for a paper copy, if you don't live in Japan.)

35. Island Beneath the Sea

Island Beneath the Sea, Isabel Allende
HarperCollins ebook, 419 pages, 2010, translated by Margaret Sayers Peden

Reading Isabel Allende these days is like, I don't know, going to your favorite restaurant and ordering the steak with fries instead of trying out the hip new Ethiopian place*. It's boring (if satisfying); you already know exactly what you're going to get, which in this case is an enormous cast of characters who evolve slowly and aimlessly over a long period of time, sumptuous descriptions of gowns and French meals and ballrooms, beautiful courtesans, honorable soldiers, and a little bit of political unrest. In that sense it was fine, but the problem was that I actually actively disliked all the characters, except the relatively minor Sancho, and maybe (if pressed) Maurice. It was a little disappointing overall, but I'll probably still read whatever she comes out with next.

*If your immediate, instinctive response to this is "HURF DURF I DIDN'T KNOW THEY EVEN HAD FOOD IN ETHIOPIA," please re-evaluate your life

15. Larry Watson: Montana 1948

Montana 1948, Larry Watson

Washington Square Press, 175 pages, 1993

Damn, I'm behind on book posts. I'm on book number 18 now, so I'll try to get through these quickly and get caught up. Anyway, I picked this up at random at the midyear seminar book sale, having never heard of the book or its author before, and was quite pleasantly surprised. The obvious comparison is to To Kill a Mockingbird: small American town, racial injustice, a father taking a difficult stand for what's right, told through a child's eyes. I haven't read To Kill a Mockingbird in about a million years (okay, I can tell you exactly how many years: eight. Oh God.), so I can't really compare the two in any significant way, but I did enjoy Montana 1948. Watson has that kind of writing style that doesn't call attention to itself; it's so easy and transparent that you almost don't notice how well-crafted it is. It's a short read, and suspenseful, but also a good and important one.

Next up: The Left Hand of Darkness by  Ursula K. Le Guin

5. Irene Sabatini: The Boy Next Door

The Boy Next Door, Irene Sabatini

Sceptre UK, 403 pages, 2009

I grabbed this in Kinokuniya when I was in Tokyo, feeling that I should be reading A) more recent novels (stay up with the current trends and all that), and B) more non-Western and especially African novels. Despite being a lifelong bookworm, the vast majority of the books I've read have been from American or European authors, with a few popular representatives from Latin America (Isabel Allende and Gabriel Garcia Marquez) and Asia (Haruki Murakami). I don't think I've ever read a single African author.

The Boy Next Door wasn't amazing, but it was enjoyable enough. It reminded me of early Isabel Allende: plucky heroine finds love against a backdrop of political unrest. I did find it hard to understand a lot of the Zimbabwean slang and political references (though that may have had something to do with the fact that I read a big chunk of it on the train on the way back from midyear seminar, when I was absolutely bushed).

Something else worth noting: the cover. It's no secret that publishing companies are weird about putting non-white faces on book covers (recent example: Justine Larbalestier's Liar), so in a way this cover is exceptional. Not much else to say there; just wanted to point it out.


Next up: Lady Chatterley's Lover by D.H. Lawrence