A Year in the Life of William Shakespeare: 1599 by James Shapiro

This is an interesting concept: focusing on one year of Shakespeare's life. After all, books written on Shakespeare can fill up several rooms, so one has to find a new angle. 1599 isn't just any year. It was during this time Shakespeare supposedly wrote Henry the Fifth, Julius Caesar, As You Like It, and Hamlet.

I say "supposedly" because the fact is, we don't know exactly when Shakespeare wrote his plays. Mr Shapiro needs to write with confidence that Hamlet was written in 1599, otherwise his book would appear to have been built on sand. In reality, it's a whole lot of guesswork when it comes to dating Shakespeare's plays.

If that's all there is in terms of shaky facts, I would have loved the book still. It is full of rich historical details, and scholarly insights. I've read Julius Caesar, and studied As You Like It, and Hamlet in high school (in Toronto), so it's quite interesting to learn what was behind their creation. Unfortunately, there are a few other problems which prevented me from fully enjoying the book.

One is that, reading the analysis on Shakespeare's text, I was reminded of all that I hated about literature classes in school. While reading is a pure pleasure, the exercise of finding double, triple meanings in a particular choice of words, meanings that the author himself mostly likely never dreamt of, is ridiculous. In the case of Shakespeare, it is even more absurd to dwell and dig since his plays were published years later by people who worked with him; who knows how accurate the final result was.

Another problem is I came upon a small mistake made by Mr Shapiro regarding English history. On page 90 (Harper Perennial Edition 2006), second paragraph, the part about Cambridge being unfairly passed over is all wrong. Now, one can argue that Mr Shapiro specializes in literature, not history. Fine. I'm not saying that the whole book is worthless because of one mistake. It's just that if I noticed this mistake because I happen to have an interest in English history, how many other inaccuracies are there in areas that I'm ignorant of?

Ah well. I know it's foolish of me to use maths standards on an arts book. I'm not, actually. The fact is, the arts world has no standards at all, which brings me back to John Carey's book What Good Are the Arts?...

The Elementary Particles by Michel Houellebecq

I believe I came across the name Michel Houellebecq in a book review somewhere, but it wasn't even M. Houellebecq's book the reviewer was talking about, so it's somewhat of a mystery how I ended up with this novel.

The book was apparently highly popular in France. I read the English translation, of course. Unless a great deal was lost in the translation process, which I don't think is the case, I yet again find the French incomprehensible. Put it simply, this is the most unpleasant book I've ever read in my life. Repetitive pornographic descriptions of sex and violence take up most of the book. Three female characters in the story end up committing suicide and we are supposed to think this is what happens to all women: loss of youth and beauty leads to disease and death by one's own hand. What is the point of the Bruno character? Or Michel? Or the whole book? I see printed on the jacket glowing praises, and I say to myself, It's the Emperor's New Clothes again. There are no ideas here, only total nonsense.

Well, I felt somewhat vindicated when I read later that M. Houellebecq had spent time in a mental institution. Hey, the dude is crazy! I knew it! There were also two negative reviews of the book in the New York Times. Now, it is not impossible that someone boring like me can never understand how twisted or messed up some people are, especially if they are a product of the '60s. But this book, far from providing analysis, is a piece of junk.

Atonement by Ian McEwan

I didn't see the movie so I thought I'd read the book. As always, Mr McEwan writes with a gorgeous style that seems to come entirely effortlessly to him. He also manages to rattle me like no other writer. This time, perhaps in his attempt to write from a female --- and a novelist's --- perspective, he spends much of the book on minute detail descriptions instead of discussions on ideas. The book is beautifully crafted, yet it's also a suffocating read. I wonder what the movie is like...

Cary Grant: A Class Apart, by Graham McCann

Biographies are not usually my thing. While history is always a fun topic, I find personal details surrounding a famous figure uninteresting and unreliable. Basically, I'm far more interested in what someone did with respect to history than that person's background, temperament, marriages, children, etc. This book on Cary Grant came highly recommended, and Mr Grant was in several of my favourite movies (The Philadelphia Story, North by Northwest, and Charade), so I thought I'd give the biography a try.

I'm afraid I don't change enough: I still don't really like biographies for the same old reasons. A book on the film industry from the 30's to the 60's would have been far more interesting to me. Instead, I got too much about Mr Grant outside of his film career. Worse yet, this not very thick book is one third filmography, notes and index. Oh, it's an enjoyable book. I had no difficulty finishing it. It's just that now I know --- biographies are still not for me.