Ishmael - Daniel Quinn (1992)

Ishmael was another book purchased at the Printer's Row Lit Fest this year, along with How to be Alone--but it was not purchased by me.  My friend (who previously reviewed Anna Karenina) picked it up, recalling that it was the best book that had been assigned for reading in middle school.  I told him that if I had to read Ishmael, he would need to read Our Band Could Be Your Life.  I kept up my end up the bargain; he did not.

My feelings on Ishmael are not that conflicted.  I found it difficult to slog through the end.  It is not a hard read, but I found it repetitive and "padded."  It seemed to me that Quinn knew what he wanted to say--and the real value of the book is that he certainly does have something to say--but that he did not need a 263 page novel to say it.  To me, this books seems like it could be "The Grand Inquisitor," which was a 20 page excerpt from The Brothers Karamazov that was assigned to me in a college course, and sold in the bookstore for about $1.99.  "The Grand Inquisitor" is definitely worth a read--and if Ishmael was condensed down into a 20 page excerpt it might be as well.  But I did not become actively engaged in this novel until the last 50 pages or so, and while those 50 pages may be a reasonably compelling portion of the text, I was more exasperated than enthralled by the majority of it.

Ishmael is not your typical book.  It reminded me of Plato's Socratic dialogues.  However, unlike those, it is not always easy to tell who is speaking.  Moreover, Socrates always advances along with his student along a minutely logical plane.  Sometimes, this dialogue just leaps across logical barriers, and says "things are so because of this, and that's just the way it is." I don't necessarily disagree with the wisdom of this book--just the way it arrives there.  And if it's not already clear to you, Ishmael does not have much of a plot.  The point of the book is to lecture the reader.  The plot is secondary, but I must admit that the when the "plot" of the book took over near the end, I was most interested.  Regardless of this form, Ishmael is a very popular book.  I have seen people reading it on the El, and its cover was oddly familiar to me before I saw my friend pick it up.  I was worried it was going to be like The Celestine Prophecy--thankfully, it was better.  I would say the two books are similarly popular as "new age" mainstream philosophical dispatches on how to live a better life.  Many people read them, and recommend them to their friends.  Ishmael is better and does not concern itself with the "energy" we project onto others.  It presents a different way of looking at the world.  When I asked my friend what it was about, he replied that it was about how humans are just insignificant little playthings for God, or something.  That was not the best description so here is mine:

It is about a middle-aged man who answers an ad from a person seeking a student.  The ad is very brusque and new age-y: "TEACHER seeks pupil.  Must have an earnest desire to save the world.  Apply in person."  (4) He shows up to an office and a gorilla is sitting there.  Then, the gorilla communicates with him telepathically and engages him in prolonged dialogues on a different interpretation of human history.

It sounds absurd, and Quinn mostly knows this, and it does make for a few good comic moments.  I do not really have a problem with the plot; my problem, as stated above, is that the book treads over the same territory repeatedly, and does not seem to advance.  Eventually, Ishmael (who is the gorilla) retells the story of Genesis, and this seems like the turning point in the book.  Up until this point there is much conversation about the agricultural revolution and how human beings changed from being hunter-gatherers to stockpiling up their food supply, and the resulting issue of overpopulation.  This is pretty much the main topic of Ishmael and as noted, I agree with its message: we all waste too much, and there is no reason that millions of people across the planet struggle to get enough to eat--it is all a result of corrupt human institutions.  The point where I disagree is when it conveniently dismisses any attempts that "advanced" human beings have made to restore nature to its rightful place.  The book was published in 1992, and its message is no less important today, but I do believe that people are generally more environmentally-conscious than in the past.  Having said that, plenty of people still don't believe in global warming.  Also, a side note: this book would probably be longer if written ten or fifteen years later and devote a fair portion of text to how the internet has, contrary to its lofty ambitions, effectively shrunk the worldview of its users:

"Mother Culture teaches you that this is as it should be.  Except for a few thousand savages scattered here and there, all the peoples of the earth are now enacting this story.  This is the story man was born to enact, and to depart from it is to resign from the human race itself, is to venture into oblivion.  Your place is here, participating in this story, putting your shoulder to the wheel, and as a reward, being fed.  There is no "something else." To step out of this story is to fall off the edge of the world.  There's no way out of it except through death." (37)

Basically the world is divided up into Takers and Leavers.  Takers are essentially colonists, and Leavers are essentially tribal people.  Ishmael would probably have been a better book if it had been a more scholarly, anthropological work of non-fiction.  However, its message would not come through nearly as clearly.  I do think the best parts of the text are the brief snippets that discuss certain obscure moments of ancient human history.  There was one great passage that mentioned a certain tribe of natives in Arizona, and their name was only familiar because the stadium where the Chicago Cubs used to play their spring training games in Mesa, AZ (until this year) was named for them:

"And if they got tired of being agriculturalists, if they found they didn't like where it was leading them in their particular adaptation, they were able to give it up.  They didn't say to themselves, 'Well, we've got to keep going at this even if it kills us, because this is the right way to live.'  For example, there was once a people who constructed a vast network of irrigation canals in order to farm the deserts of what is now southeastern Arizona.  They maintained these canals for three thousand years and built a fairly advanced civilization, but in the end they were free to say, 'This is a toilsome and unsatisfying way to live, so to hell with it.'  They simply walked away from the whole thing and put it so totally out of mind that we don't even know what they called themselves.  The only name we have for them is the one the Pima Indians gave them: Hohokam--those who vanished." (168)

Ultimately, Ishmael arrives at its greatest and most powerful claim--that industrialization has prevented human beings from evolving into anything more than homo sapiens--and I have a hard time accepting it, for the evolutionary process takes much longer than humans have been making and recording "history."  It is an interesting thought, but like most of the book, while wisdom is being liberally offered, deeper and greater details about the factual claims are left out in the favor of "readability" or "entertainment."  When I did not find it all that entertaining (the ending being the exception), then it is a problem for me to recommend it.

But this book is still very popular and has apparently achieved "near classic" status--I haven't read any reviews, but I would presume it is more popular with readers than critics.  So I won't try to talk anyone out of reading this book.  I just hope they will know what to expect.

Anna Karenina - Leo Tolstoy (Transl. Richard Peaver and Larissa Volokhonsky) (1877)

I am very pleased to present our newest writer on Flying Houses, Juan J. Perez.  He has reviewed a book for me that is somewhat famous.  I openly admit that I am a tyro when it comes to Tolstoy.  I have read part of The Death of Ivan Ilyich, but I have generally favored the Russian writers that adopted America as their new homeland.  I do not know very much about the political climate in Russia in 1877, but I am guessing this book reflects it accurately.  This review, on the other hand, focuses on matters of the heart, or the "doomed romance" aspect of the novel.  Juan has written an excellent review, and if he feels up to it in a few years I will welcome a review of War and Peace.

“All happy families are alike; each unhappy family is unhappy in its own way.” So begins what Leo Tolstoy was to call “his first novel” with a sentence that has been oft-quoted since its creation. Anna Karenina is truly in a realm of its own. It’s almost akin to a soap opera in that one finds it impossible to take their eyes off the drama unfolding. The comparison might sound insulting to some, but it is only the lowly opinion of a literary fledgling penning his first review. The particular version that is going to be discussed is the translation done by Richard Pevear and Larissa Volokhonsky. If the reviews on the jacket are to be believed, it is a superb translation a cut well above the rest. Still, the main reason it found itself in my book bag was not because of the glowing reviews or even the acclaim the story itself has received, but rather, my desire to educate myself on the classics which with high school had neglected to acquaint me. The English classes in my curriculum were more focused on sending students out of class for juvenile behavior than on Romeo and Juliet or The Great Gatsby. Shakespeare was enjoyed on occasion, but that was on my own, and there was no extent beyond that. That is what led me to peruse the aisles of my local library and grab Anna Karenina without a second thought.

While having heard the name in passing often enough, Tolstoy was very much an enigma to me—something similar to a shadow undulating in my peripheral vision. The introduction in this version gave an enlightening apercu on Tolstoy, his work, and, most importantly, the novel in question. Anna Karenina was written amidst a time of great questioning in Russia. Many publications advocated for ideals such as sexual freedom and communal habitation. Women’s education, enfranchisement, and role in public life were very much debated. As Pevear states, “On all these matters Tolstoy held rather conservative views. For him, marriage and childbearing were a woman’s essential tasks, and family happiness was the highest human ideal….An intentional anachronism, his novel was meant as a challenge, both artistic and ideological, to the ideas of the Russian nihilists.” (ix) Yet, although he essentially despised adultery, Anna was not portrayed unsympathetically.  In fact, Tolstoy’s wife wrote that he had “envisioned the type of a married woman of high society who ruins herself. He said his task was to portray this woman not as guilty, but as only deserving of pity…” (xi)

Anna Karenina’s plot revolves around a vast array of characters and settings that is splintered into eight parts. Part One introduces us to the predicament that is the Oblonsky household. Stepan Arkadyich has been caught having an affair with the family’s former French governess by his wife, Dolly. Despite his best attempts, he is unable gain her forgiveness. He desperately turns to the visit of his sister, Anna Arkadyevna Karenina, as his only hope for salvaging his marriage. Ironically enough, while Anna does indeed convince Dolly to forgive Stiva (Stepan) and take him back, it is this very visit from St. Petersburg to Moscow that introduces her to her folly, Count Alexei Vronsky, a young and handsome officer who is very well regarded in society. It is also during this time that Stiva’s childhood friend, Konstantin Levin, has come to Moscow with the intent of proposing marriage to Stiva’s belle-soeur, Kitty. Unfortunately for Levin, Vronsky has also begun courting her, albeit seeing it as a minor flirtation rather than expressing intent for marriage. Due to this, Kitty rejects Levin for Vronsky which sends a depressed Levin back to the country. However, it seems karma plays a hand in this for, as soon as Vronsky meets Anna, he loses all interest in Kitty and is determined to pursue Anna back to St. Petersburg to woo her. This leaves a very distraught and unresponsive Kitty in his wake and the Shcherbatsky family travels to the country in order to try and brighten her spirits. Back in St. Petersburg, Anna finds herself drawn to a different social circle which is radically different from the virtuous and pious one she used to belong to. It is here where she gives in to Vronsky’s advances and begins her deadly dalliance with him. This does not go unnoticed by her husband or other society people, and it commences a whirlwind of adultery, jealousy, and hypocrisy amongst everyone.

The part that most captivated and enraptured me was Part Seven’s finale, where Anna meets her demise. The style that Tolstoy uses to describe Anna’s stream of consciousness during her last moments flows effortlessly and beautifully. One can practically picture themselves in Anna’s position. “What was he [Vronsky] looking for in me? Not love so much as the satisfaction of his vanity,” she ponders. (762) In what this reviewer believes to be one of the greatest internal dialogues ever written, Anna displays her paranoia at her situation, “ My love grows ever more passionate and self-centered, and his [Vronsky’s] keeps fading and fading, and that’s why we move apart…And there’s no help for it. For me, everything is in him alone, and I demand that he give his entire self to me more and more. While he wants more and more to get away from me…He tells me I’m senselessly jealous, and I’ve told myself that I’m senselessly jealous, but it’s not true. I’m not jealous, I’m dissatisfied…If he is kind and gentle to me out of duty, without loving me, and I am not to have what I want—that is a thousand times worse even than anger! It’s hell! And that is what we have. He has long ceased loving me. And where love stops hatred begins.” (763)  Her mind is completely revealed to the reader and all one can do is read on as Anna’s mental state deteriorates, “Ah, a beggar woman with a child. She thinks she’s to be pitied. Aren’t we all thrown into the world only in order to hate each other and so to torment ourselves and others?”(764)

This brings me to a subject often discussed by critics: was Anna mentally ill? While I am not an authority on the matter, as psychology was never a class of mine, I will say that Anna does indeed seem to display characteristics of mania and schizophrenia. In fact, it is my belief that Tolstoy actually alludes to her mental instability with a line from Anna herself, “’No, I won’t let you torment me,’ she thought, addressing her threat not to him [Vronsky], not to herself, but to the one who made her suffer, and she walked along the platform past the station-house.”(767) What follows is the infamous suicide scene which was foreshadowed in the beginning of the book when Anna was introduced, “And the candle by the light of which she had been reading that book filled with anxieties, deceptions, grief and evil, flared up brighter than ever, lit up for her all that had once been in darkness, sputtered, grew dim, and went out for ever.”  (768)

Many will probably disagree with me on this, but the book should have ended there. Part Eight was admittedly a hastily added part, but it detracted from the book for me a great deal. There was little to no closure for Anna’s death in that section and my annoyance at Levin’s “sufferings” tainted my enjoyment of the book. My desire to finish the book from beginning to end was the only reason it was read. It seemed very odd and out of place for Levin to have such conflicts after all that he has endured and gained throughout the story, which only increased my perplexity and vexation at his supposed woes. Despite a rather unsatisfying end for me, Anna Karenina was a greatly enjoyable book to read. My curiosity is sufficiently piqued for me to go and search out Tolstoy’s War and Peace, which many claim is his magnum opus. Let us hope the owner of this blog does not ask me to review it as well. Adieu, my fellow book lovers.