books 0f 2011

About a year ago I made a new year’s resolution. I resolved to read 52 books in the year of 2011 – a book for every week. Said resolution was based on the fact that a year before that I decided to record every book I read in a year, and at the end of 2010, I was surprised to have read less books than I thought. I read 31 books in 2010 (26 if you’re not counting re-reads, but I count them, as you’ll see if you read the list). If I can put away The Hunger Games in a day, I thought I could do better than that. Frankly, I thought 52 would be easy.

Oh, self. That would be cute if it wasn’t so sad. Readers, I blame the month of July and the month of November for the result of this attempt. July because I read one book. One book. Really. November because sometime during that month, I utterly gave up on finishing. In a way, I think that helped the panic that came with December. Initially I had planned to get off to a good start in the year (which I did) and only leave a book or two for the crazy holiday season of December (which I didn’t).

I read 52 books in 2011. But it nearly killed me. Behold the complete list, which once again does not include submissions to the literary agency I worked at, short stories, fanfiction, essays, or blogs.

But first, I will list my three favourite new reads of the year:

1 & 2) The Demon’s Surrender, Sarah Rees Brennan, and The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo, Stieg Larsson

Tied for first and second place in my mind are two very different books. Rees Brennan’s book is the conclusion of a trilogy I’ve been following for many years. It deals with Human Emotion, brothers, demons, and what it means to actually hate your family and still love them more than anything. Larsson’s book I loved for her. Murder mysteries are great. Seriously. But she shone with the light of a hundred monitors. Salander broke my heart and broke it again. I tried to give a legit first and second place, but I couldn't choose a favourite between these books. For additional interest, I’d like to see the heroes of both these books put in a room together so I can take bets on who speaks first.

3) Misery, Stephen King

Oh, Stephen. You know you are my favourite even if I turn into a sniveling wreck of a woman whenever I read you. Misery had me so far gone that when something good happened, I was unable to continue reading for several hours because I knew it was going to go so horribly, horribly wrong. And I couldn’t! I just couldn’t. I picked it up again a few hours later (because Steve, honey, you know I can’t stay mad at you) and made it to the end, but I knew I was right to take that break. It did go horribly wrong, and I would have been broken.

Honourable mentions:

Valiant, Holly Black – The last line was easily the most romantic thing I’d read all year.

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak – Because someone was heart-breakingly right about a kiss.

famous last words

I’ve had a sudden understanding with Orlando Bloom’s character at the beginning of Elizabethtown, and no, I’m not talking about the suicide bike. I’m talking about the face: terrified, and yet calm. Utterly, utterly calm. He talks about last looks, how someone looks at you when you know they think it’s for the last time. You know what he means. You’re probably looking at my blog this way right now.

I have no personal experience with such looks. I admit every time I’ve looked at someone for the last time, I didn’t know it would be (with one exception). And even then, unless they’re dead, who knows if it was really for the last time? I do know what it’s like to look at someone just in case it’s the last time. I do this often – half the time I see my family, and even more often when I’m signing out of my blog. Recently, because I’ve moved again for the third time in a year, I’ve been looking at people who I know I won’t see again for some time. Which is just a last-look-for-a-while. Those suck, too.

My mother is an artist, and I know she sees more than I do. I’ve suspected that I’m not particularly observant when it comes to noticing things. I can’t count the number of times someone has said, “Oh, man, he was so hot!” or, “No way, was that a goat with that man?” and I’m looking around in bewilderment. I’m not crazy about artwork. I can’t picture my friends’ faces with any sort of accuracy, though I obviously recognize them on sight. I use my eyes to navigate from one place to another and sometimes to read blogs.

I’m better at remembering last words. The one exception to the last looks thing was much more about last words, anyway. I remember what I said, but I don’t remember how he looked. After he died, as they were taking him away, someone asked me if I wanted to go back inside and see him. I told them no – I’d already said my goodbye. That seemed so much more important.

What I remember best are firsts. First impressions, first kisses, first hangovers. I guess because they have so much more immediate impact. Really, you never know it’s a last word until it really is the last word, and then you think back and maybe try to remember it, as though it will Mean Something. But life’s not a book. And isn’t your last impression based on a first something anyway?

So have the last word, the last laugh, or whatever. But don’t forget why the last look even mattered in the first place.

If you want a last word to leave you breathless, read fiction.

The Stand, Stephen King

The Book Thief, Markus Zusak

Mort, Terry Pratchett

books of 2010

It’s nearing the end of the year, so I thought I’d pull out the list of what I’ve read this year. I admit, back in January I was terribly curious to track my reading habits and see what it is I’m doing with my life, but March through October … I couldn’t really care less about what I was reading. Perhaps because I, like any God-fearing Canadian, was out enjoying weather that didn’t bring to mind that scene from The Day After Tomorrow. You know the one*. So naturally, come December, I again find myself wondering what I’ve been reading all year.

I have compiled what is probably an incomplete list. This does not include all the submissions to the agency, short stories, fanfiction, essays and blogs I’ve read this year. Which may or may not count for a lot.

I would like to start off with my three favourites:

1) The Hunger Games, Suzanne Collins

Everything I want in a book. Everything. (Except, possibly, a masked ball, but I tend to look for that more in a visual medium.) I honestly expected The Demon’s Covenant to be my favourite book of the year, and The Hunger Games … does everyone remember when Romeo was all hung up on Roseline? How he never thought he could love anything more? It is the east, and The Hunger Games is the sun. The dark, children-eating sun.

2) The Demon’s Covenant, Sarah Rees Brennan

It is unfair to begin by comparing this book to Rosaline from R+J. This book shines too, like the glint of the sun on a blade. The Demon books are so, so enjoyable. I laughed, I cried, I debated over and over which brother I would want more… and can’t decide. I have loved almost everything Rees Brennan has written for years. This one is no exception. The second book in a trilogy. I was so happy to see the characters again. Am dying for the third. (Expect it on next year’s list.)

3) C’Mon Papa, Ryan Knighton

Okay, this one is actually not predictable. It’s a story about blind fatherhood. Something I have so much in common with. Except it was extremely … relatable? Is that the right word? And hilarious. Knighton kind of writes like Stephen King when King isn’t being terrifying. I love King, but I don’t love the terrifying, so naturally this book is amazing. It is touching and unexpected. I highly recommend it to everyone, blind father or not.

Honourable mentions:

The Time Traveler’s Wife, Audrey Niffenegger (made me cry in public)

Under the Dome, Stephen King (made me cry in public for entirely different reasons)

And here’s the list in full**, and in no particular order:

City of Glass, Cassandra Clare

Artemis Fowl, Lost Colony, Eoin Colfer

Artemis Fowl, Time Paradox, Eoin Colfer

Artemis Fowl: Atlantis Complex, Eoin Colfer

Demon’s Lexicon (x2), Sarah Rees Brennan

Demon’s Covenant (x 3), Sarah Rees Brennan

Disgrace, J. M. Coetzee

Order of the Phoenix, J.K. Rowling

The Wife's Tale, Lori Lansens

Widdershins, Charles de Lint

Clockwork Angel, Cassandra Clare

Super Freakonimics, Steven Levitt and Stephen Dubner

Bridget Jones’s Diary, Helen Fielding

The Hunger Games (x 2), Suzanne Collins

Catching Fire (x 2), Suzanne Collins

Mockingjay (x 2), Suzane Collins

Deathly Hallows, J.K. Rowling

Breaking Dawn, Stephenie Meyer

The Time Traveler’s Wife, Audrey Niffenegger

The Sweetness at the Bottom of the Pie, Alan Bradley

C’Mon Papa, Ryan Knighton

Under the Dome, Stephen King

Eragon, Christopher Paolini

Something Blue, Emily Giffin

Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, Haruki Murakami
Cockeyed, Ryan Knighton

It seems I’ve read 26 books this year, 31 if you count the ones I’ve read twice. That’s about a book every two weeks. Is that good? I don’t know. Considering I inhaled The Hunger Games in a day, I feel I could do better.

Aim for 2011 – read: 52 books, earn: 52 dollars/hour, drink: 52 Mai Tais.

I feel these aren’t bad goals.

* I’ve never seen this movie, nor the scene in question, but I’ve heard it mentioned often enough that I feel I can reference it with some accuracy.

** Some of these books I have not finished, but more or less intend to before the year is out. This does not include Widdershins, which I found a huge let-down after reading The Blue Girl by the same author, and do not intend to finish. It serves me right for starting in the middle of a series - although it worked with the Harry Potter series that one time.

things that say a lot about me

In high school I had five particularly memorable teachers: three in English, one in Philosophy, and one in Accounting.

This, embarrassingly, explains a lot about me.

I got the degree in English and toyed with a minor in Philosophy for a while. And then there's this thing I like to do sometimes where I add up big numbers in my head and see how fast I can do it. I probably shouldn't have mentioned that last part. I came here to talk about the Beatles.

One of the memorable English teachers taught a bizarre little class where we discussed a lot of James Joyce, and I began my hatred for Conrad's 'Heart of Darkness'. (The horror.) More often than not, the already tiny class of twelve had about seven students in attendance on any given day. On one afternoon my friend and I debated all through lunch whether or not to go to the class (it was a 'Heart of Darkness' day, I'm sure of it) and ended up halfway to the bus stop before some unknown force had us running back through the school halls, ten minutes late.

We rounded the corner at a dangerous speed to find the teacher standing outside the classroom, watching us with a radiating disapproval. We panicked, then, sure, but continued on to class thinking we couldn't flee since he had seen us, and it was too late in the year to drop the class.

With an apology and outrageously hopeful spirits, we entered the classroom to find it empty save the sad piece of tumbleweed and the cricket. Upon realizing what happened, his stance at the doorway looked a lot more like the hope of a man clinging to a log in the ocean than disapproval.

The bastard still gave the lecture. We discussed Margaret Atwood's poetry, and I fell asleep halfway through with the thought: "I can't fall asleep; it's just me and one other-"

It was that kind of class.

hockey

I've been Canadian for a while now (since birth, even) and I only just started playing hockey this past September. It's great. My team has made it through the playoffs and into the finals. It begins tonight and I'm quite excited. *coughs* If only I hadn't gotten down with the drunken karaoke last night... *coughs* Bah. No regrets. :D

Hockey comes slowly tonight
I wonder if there'll be a fight
Can't wait for the game
It will be insane
But who'll win, evil or light?

on blogging

I like several blogs. I will visit them and laugh, and sometimes laugh some more. Some blogs I visit for the information they provide, but this is rare.

I know I've been terrible with this blog. Apologies to my reader. From now on I resolve to blog bigger and better. As a gesture of good faith to begin blogging better, I leave you kind reader with this limerick:

I'd cut up my blogspot with scizzors,
If only to make you consider,
How useless blogs are
(Have they got us far?)
I say we all defect to Twitter.

on words

I want a place to put some words, so I’ve decided to claim a corner of the internet for myself in the form of a blog. Some of my thoughts on words: Words are important enough in the real world, but online, they are more important still, because they’re all you have.

I have named my blog ‘Fallen Labyrinth’ for two reasons: 1) These are my two favourite words in the English language. Fallen. Labyrinth. I like them better than ‘cellar door’ (and, strangely, even better than ‘open bar’). 2) Together, they sound almost hopeful, like looking at a puzzle from a different angle. I think they are delightfully whimsical.

By now you’ve gathered that I spend time thinking about individual words like a crazy person would, but they’re often good clumped together as well. I love stories, both written and read, and I’ve been trying to learn the words for years.*

So if you like my words here, please share some of your own. I would love some new ones.



* Obscure reference to a story by Maya. Learning the words means knowing what to say to the person you love.