Top Ten Popular Authors I’ve Never Read

This weekly meme brought to you by the Broke and the Bookish!

This weekly meme brought to you by the Broke and the Bookish!

For your enjoyment, I’ve lovingly split this topic into two Top Fives!

Top Five Popular Authors I’ve Never Read…And Don’t Intend To:

  1. Stephenie Meyer, for two reasons. 1) I’ve never understood the romantic appeal of vampires (or invading alien species), and 2) I just can’t spell her name. I had to look it up in order to post it here. Which is irksome.
  2. Leo Tolstoy…and pretty much all the classic Russian authors. Because if things like difficult spellings deter me, multiple family trees with complicated Russian names spanning years and hundreds of pages doesn’t sound like the ideal book for me. I would, however, venture into Nikolai Gogol’s short stories. But no promises.
  3. Stieg Larsson. I have no desire to read The Millenium Trilogy, and I’m okay with that. Really people, I can live without it.
  4. Stephen King. I get the heebie-jeebies when a piece of paper sitting on the edge of my desk flutters to the ground for no reason. This is not the author for me.
  5. Dan Brown. I’m 99% sure I’d like his books once I got into them, but aside from theological implications I’m not much excited to explore, they plumb don’t interest me.

Top Five Popular Authors I’ve Never Read…And Super-Duper Can’t Wait to Try!:

  1. Kurt Vonnegut. Somehow made it out of high school without having to read any one of his novels, and now I feel deprived. I think there’s only one way to find out whether I actually am….
  2. Margaret Atwood. As a Canadian I think this is a bit shocking, and probably plain rude. As I foray into more sci-fi, this may have to be one direction I travel.
  3. Also without a doubt, Ursula K. Le Guin. I have no clue where to start, but she’s always been intriguing to me.
  4. Robert Galbraith. Tee-hee! It’s sort of a cheat, but technically I have yet to get to “Robert”‘s first novel, The Cuckoo’s Calling.
  5. Markus Zusak. Who knows what he wrote besides The Book Thief, but still! Slouch authors don’t win awards.

The Borrowers, Mary Norton

The Borrowers is a short book about very tiny people, so I’m going to make this a very tiny review.

Pod and Homily Clock, and their adolescent daughter, Arrietty, are the last of the Borrowers living in their Victorian-era mansion. After a series of accidents, other families such as the Harpsichords and Overmantels have been forced to emigrate. Then one day Pod decides to introduce Arrietty to the art of “borrowing”: that is, stealing things from the humans, which they can then use for their own homemaking purposes. (Stamps become posters, buttons are plates, spools are chairs, blotting paper is carpeting…you get the picture.) But then the unthinkable happens when Arrietty is “seen”! That’s right – their very existence is something kept secret from the humans, and now it’s anyone’s guess as to what will happen next.

Original illustrations by Beth and Joe Krush.

This classic children’s book won the Carnegie Medal for Literature in 1952. Even as an adult, I really enjoyed it. Had this been read to me as a kid I would surely have been swept up into Arrietty’s world and continued with the series. There’s something magical about the story, though it doesn’t “feel” like fantasy. It actually feels very believable. On a basic level, I think it says some important things about discrimination, fear of the unknown, and family values.

The North American movie poster for the 2010 anime.

The bonus is that there are now several television and movie adaptations of the books, all with something different to offer. The 1992 BBC television series is a rigorously faithful adaptation. The 2011 (also BBC) production takes numerous liberties while keeping the fun spirit of the novel. There’s even a Japanese-animated version! So whatever you or your kid is into, there’s probably something out there to please you. Now hop to it! Start discovering the little people for yourself!

Top Ten Tuesday – Most Intimidating Novels

Hey, it’s Tuesday and you know what that means! The topic suggested by The Broke and Bookish today was supposed to be “Top Ten Books/Authors I’m Thankful For”, but I have a hunch that’s only because of American thanksgiving. Seeing as I’m a Canadian living in South Korea (meaning I’ve already celebrated thanksgiving twice this year), I’m gonna go ahead and skip the thankfulness thing. Enough of that! This post is all about my greatest literary fears and, as such, will be characterized by much whinging. Ladies and Gentlemen, my Ten Most Intimidating Novels (in no particular order, since they’re all equally terrifying):

This is gonna be good…

Les Miserables (Victor Hugo)

Kaite suggested this one and I have to agree. It’s one thing to watch a movie or a musical based on the book, but it’s quite another thing to read the book. It’s a real fatty! Plus, it’s all there in the title; the story may be beautiful and touching and have a kind of happy ending, but the bulk of it is pretty miserable.

Even Brad Pitt couldn’t save the epic flop “Troy”. But he sure is pretty.

The Iliad and The Odyssey (Homer)

Technically this is two separate works, and technically they are epic poems, not novels. Still, “The Iliad” and “The Odyssey” top the list of Things I Have No Desire To Read Whatsoever. This is based mostly on the fact that I like my Homers yellow and stupid, and Achilles doesn’t fit the bill on either account. Plus, poetry. Blech.

Moby Dick (Herman Melville)

“Call me Ishmael.” First sentence. Bam.

That is probably about as far as I’ll ever get in my acquaintance with this novel about a single-legged sea captain bent on avenging a ferocious white sperm whale. Why? Not only is this book huge, but to directly quote Kaite (as written in an email she sent to me months ago, and which I am now using without her permission), “This book is also boring. I have no idea why people like it so much.” The last I checked she was making her way through it little bits at a time. I’ll be the first to point out that Kaite and I don’t always agree on literature, but that’s testimony enough for me.

War and Peace (Leo Tolstoy)

Now, my dad is a slow reader, but this took him about a year to get through. If that isn’t intimidating enough, it’s also got multiple volumes, endless aristocratic characters with long Russian names, and perhaps the broadest scope any novel in history has ever dared to take on. You have to applaud these crazy Russian novelists for their patience in writing these sagas, though. But maybe I’ll read it one day. Like, if I’m on my deathbed and there’s no one to talk to and nothing to do but die slowly, and the only thing around is a single copy of War and Peace. Then maybe.

Based on “Heart of Darkness” – the goriest movie ever?

Heart of Darkness (Joseph Conrad)

This one is a novella, which proves that size isn’t everything when we’re talking intimidation. And actually, I already read Heart of Darkness back in eleventh grade. All I remember was that the frame narrative (story within a story) got me really confused, and I was barely able to understand what was happening the whole time. There was something about a boat, Africa, and a guy named Marlow. To make matters worse, I have the distinct feeling that it was an interesting story, and I missed out. All this adds up to my thinking I should give it another go. But I’m still scared! It’s not the violence, or the old language, or the narrative, or the fact that this remains one of the most dissected stories ever – it’s all those things together that make me nervous to reattempt it.

Jane Eyre (Charlotte Brontë)

I’ve already used this blog to lament my doomed relationship with this Gothic romance. Why do I keep believing I’ll love it? Because I love a little doom and gloom occasionally  and I love romance. But  somehow I’m just not loving Jane. I always end up walking away. Yes, I know the beginning sentence of this one quite well, too. “There was no possibility of taking a walk that day.” Three times and that still wasn’t an indication that it wouldn’t be any more riveting the next time…

The tagline for this 1939 adaptation is a real winner!

Wuthering Heights (Emily Brontë)

I am tackling this one just now. I’m telling you – it’s still intimidating even as I’m reading it. Old writing style, three generations of Heathcliffs, and all the general Brontë broodiness does not add up to light reading. But several trusted readers in my life have promised that it’s worth the initial slog, so I’m trusting them.

On another note, what’s with these Brontë girls and their fetish for jerky men? At least I’m not the only one who noticed a pattern here….

Paradife Loft! A Poem in Ten Bookf!

Paradise Lost (John Milton)

This poem goes on for about ten to twelve “books” or sections (depending on what edition you have), which explains why Old Milty went blind writing it. He wanted to “justify the ways of God to man” which, I bet, is no easy task. Again, this is something I’ve read excerpts from. While I admire the work as a whole, and the genius behind it, I could never have the patience to read the whole thing. My twelfth grade English teacher always said she would once she retired. I’d love to know if she has.

Divine Comedy (Dante Alighieri)

I suppose when one sets off to write about Heaven, Hell, and Purgatory, one can only do so in an epic poem. I’m sorry to put another one on this list, but Dante definitely deserves a spot. I don’t have much more to say except…poetry. Blech.

The Lord of the Rings (J. R. R. Tolkien)

I read The Hobbit and loved it. So why should the next (three) parts of a continuing story be so difficult for me? Maybe it’s because Tolkien suffers from the same wordiness I sometimes do, taking twenty pages to describe a single pine tree, or the eating and drinking habits of Harfoots. That aside, I’m determined to read these one day. They’re about the most respected and beloved fantasy novels of all time, so that’s gotta be a good thing.

Disclaimers and Endnotes (Because I’m Wordy and I Like Typing):

  1. I’m not against poetry. When I say “blech” it’s really just to illustrate my lack of patience with it. To be sure, I’m really quite fond of the Romantics, who only had to stand by a pond or notice a hangnail to appreciate the Sublime. (Shelley and Keats are my men!) All I’m saying is there’s a reason this site is called “A Novel Thing”.
  2. This post puts me in direct risk of comments like, “You’re wrong about War and Peace!” If that’s you, know that I realize you’re probably right. All the above books are called classics for a reason, and, as such, are probably all objectively good (one some level). Even so, “the classics” are not a homogeneous genre and still represent themes and writing styles as varied as those represented in today’s fiction. No one can be expected to like everything, so please, take what I say with a grain of salt.
  3. Kaite is the craziest reader I know. As of November 4th, she’d read 89 books this year (another fact I stole from an email without her permission). So don’t hold it against her that she finds Moby Dick boring. If you were aiming for ten books a month and only had so much time, you’d probably think the same thing!