Book #80: "Things I Overheard While Talking to Myself"

 

Having really enjoyed his last book, I was looking forward to this one, which I assumed picked up where the previous one left off. I was particularly hoping there would be some anecdotes about The West Wing. 

So in that respect, the book disappointed, because it's not so much a second volume of his autobiography as it is a collection of speeches he's given (graduations, funerals, etc.) and his thoughts thereon. Because I am a storyteller myself, I found it somewhat less engaging to read. But I am also a thinker and even a philosopher at times, in my way, and ultimately it was more thought-provoking than the stories were.

Alan Alda and I do not agree about everything; like a lot of people, he appears to believe science and religion are incompatible, and regards religious people as blind followers of a path that leads nowhere (though it's not stated overtly, the implication is there.) I believe that religion gives us answers science hasn't found yet, and as what we know about our universes grows and changes, principles that seemed to be diametrically opposed foes end up as different methods of expressing the same idea. But his theories are deeply pondered and thoughtfully expressed, and I respect the work even if I don't always care for the product.

As in the previous book, his words are a joy; my favorite phrase was this: "being passionate doesn't make you right." In a book filled with intriguing concepts, that's the one I'll take with me.

Author: Alan Alda

Potentially objectionable content: Less than the previous book (probably because most of these words were spoken at ceremonial occasions in public forums)

Book #79: "Never Have Your Dog Stuffed and Other Things I've Learned"

 

Growing up in the 80s and 90s, I was of course familiar with M*A*S*H; my parents certainly watched it and I'm sure I have seen quite a few episodes, though I was a very small child when it stopped airing. (I thought I remembered watching the finale; turns out I was way too young for that and my memories are all of reruns. That surprised me and I had to check a couple of times to make sure I wasn't crazy.) I don't remember a lot of specifics; mostly character names and a couple of bits (Frank and Margaret's affair; Klinger's penchant for dressing up as a woman in hopes of getting discharged, etc.) but it has seeped into my consciousness nonetheless, and I became a fan of Alan Alda's sort of accidentally, the way I sometimes do. (I'm sure I'll talk about that in depth at some point.)

Watching (and then becoming mildly obsessed with) The West Wing not long after it went off the air some 30 years later meant I was able to become a fan of his on purpose, but I didn't know much more about him or his body of work (the only other things I can recall seeing offhand are The Aviator, in which he weirded me out, and The Blacklist, in which I wanted to slap him.) As I read the first few chapters and noted his references to the events of his childhood, I guessed that he was about the same age as my maternal grandparents; turns out he was born the year between them and got married about a month before they did, so there was satisfaction in being right. But more than that, I was absorbed by his stories, his candor and his writing. I had to slog through the previous two books and was relieved when I finally finished them; this one I was a little sad to put down.

Author: Alan Alda

Potentially objectionable content: Some language (though it's used pretty sparingly); like the autobiography of Julie Andrews, there are "thematic elements".

Book #78: "Louisa May Alcott: A Personal Biography"

 

This is the third and last Louisa May Alcott biography I own (see the others here and here) and it was also the hardest to write about. It's riddled with errors both factual (e.g. Elizabeth Alcott is referred to at one point as the youngest sister, though like her fictional counterpart she was actually the third of four) and technical (commas occasionally roam away from where they belong and make a home for themselves wherever they land.) 

But irritating as they are, the errors pale in comparison to the author's refusal to focus on her purported subject. Instead, a varied cast of historical figures (Thoreau, Emerson, Walt Whitman, Henry James, Dorothea Dix, John Brown; the list goes on) as well as Alcott's sisters, mother and friends all march onstage to support the real star of the show: Bronson Alcott, whom the author clearly loathes, nevertheless basks in the limelight while poor Louisa is relegated to the wings. And while he was interesting enough in his own right, and books could be and have been written about him and his relationship with his famous daughter, she deserves top billing in a book with her name on the cover.

The focus on Bronson and his theories is particularly odd in a narrative that also spends significant time on the issue of women's rights, both now and in 19th-century New England. What little space Louisa is alloted in the book repeatedly mentions her support of what we'd refer to today as a feminist agenda, though this seems entirely based on her desire to support her family and her choosing not to get married (indeed, it may have been practical and not philosophical concerns that kept her single.)

So to sum up: my primary objection to this book is that, with a subtitle of "A Personal Biography", it is abundantly clear that the only person whose thoughts, ideals and feelings matter to the author is herself.

Author: Susan Cheever

Potentially objectionable content: the author's constant speculation on most characters' sexual orientation

Book #77: "Watership Down"

 

Well. This was a SLOG for me; I'm just gonna come right out with that.

My first time being aware of this book was while reading "Wait Til Helen Comes" as a kid (don't worry; it's coming later. See what I did there? Even if I didn't already own it, I'd have to get it so I could make that joke.)

ANYWAY, at one point the main character, Molly, is reading "Watership Down." Since Molly is I think twelve, I assumed this would be more of a children's book, and it's very much not; it's 475 pages long, and it's...just not very interesting. (It has FOOTNOTES, for crying out loud.) I almost aborted this one as well, since ain't nobody got time for boring books about rabbits, but it's something of a classic and I just this second realized I didn't want to be a literary sissy compared to a fictional twelve-year-old. So...I clearly have some stuff to figure out, but at least I can blame it on Mary Downing Hahn. (Other things too; wait til I get to the Hs. HA. Did it again.)

Author: Richard Adams

Potentially objectionable content: Interestingly, all the references to more adult stuff are made innocuous by being expressed in Lapine, Adams' rabbit language. But it's quite violent in places and those passages are in fairly descriptive English, so animal lovers should probably steer clear. It's also very much a book of its time (1972) so there are characters who speak in dialects that are maybe not explicitly racist (though mostly by virtue of being animals rather than people) but are pretty easy to identify nonetheless.

P.S. If you think I'm joking about either the violence or the not-for-kids bits, take a look at this, from the 1978 movie:

 

DEMON RABBIT NIGHTMARES. Spare yourself.