The Power of One

I have been a distracted, undedicated blogger. For this I apologize. Now back to business.

Due to a bunch of unforseen circumstances in the past couple of weeks, the bet was canceled early. I personally think that Brett appreciated this hugely, because I was undoubtedly going to finish (over two weeks left and into my 6th book); he now gleefully calls the competition a draw or a stalemate instead of admitting my unbeatable lead. Next time, I will take no prisoners. Tortilla soup will be mine.

Before having to give the books back, I did get to finish Into the Wild, which I thoroughly enjoyed. My only wish is that it had read more like a novel and less like a biography - but this is clearly Krakauer's style. I'm intrigued to read his other book, but that will have to go at the end of the list. Oddly enough, I found myself more attached to the Alaskan wilderness than to McCandless' character by the end of the book. The environment in which he passed away seemed more of a victim than the boy himself. It also seemed to be represented more negatively in the media coverage following the incident (of course I Googled, it's an obsessive compulsive habit), as if the temperature and harsh simplicity of the area had consciously hidden themselves from the traveler, hiding behind a tree until he was nice and comfortable and then jumping out, mugging him. This is most likely the opposite of what we were supposed to take from the book, but McCandless seemed to me like a cocky, under-prepared teenager who would have thrived in a regular, perhaps even slightly irregular climate, but who met his match in an extreme one, like many of us would have. I have always had a curiosity about Alaska - the blatantly honest and forthright, unapologetic harshness of the land seems attractive to me for some reason. There's something I like about a place that doesn't need tropical climates, hugely posh shopping malls or the promise of free liquor to be enticing. Someday I'd like to head to Alaska (after adequately preparing, of course) and explore it for myself.

After finishing Into the Wild, I had a brief one night stand with The Secret History of Words before having to give it up. I have to admit that I wasn't terribly upset about this. The text read more to me like a list of instructions than a book, and I was already plodding along less than 50 pages in. I didn't even make it to Salinger's Nine Stories, which is again something that I'm disappointed in less than I'd like to admit. Slightly discouraged from the loss of free tortilla soup (but also excited at the new found freedom to begin any book I'd like), I followed the advice of a girlfriend and started The Power of One, an intimidatingly large book by Bryce Courtenay. With a title like that, I think I was expecting a self help book hidden behind a feeble attempt at a plot line. Fortunately, I was wrong. Power has turned out to be a relatively addictive novel following a young South African boy through the misadventures of his childhood and adolesence - and when I say misadventures, I truly mean misadventures.

At which point should an author stop throwing constant conflict at their main character and let them coast for a bit? Should the character ever be given a chance to establish themselves outside of extreme circumstances, or should the reader constantly be kept on their toes, wondering what the next curveball will be? I find myself distracted again and again by Peekay's unfaltering goodness against adversity. I understand that the point of the book is his unexpected maturity for such a small child, his inexplicable kindness, patience, and innocent curiosity. But, 300 pages deep, I have yet to see a temper tantrum, an impolite slip, or even a figurative toe out of line. This brings me back to the issues mentioned in the entry concerning James Frey and Nic Scheff - is an author of fiction, who builds his character around a mishmash of life experiences and examples, capable of creating a slightly imperfect character? Or will the character, who inevitably becomes a part of the heart of the writer, like a son or daughter, always carry more goodness than harm? The exception, of course, are characters designed explicitly for evil (or annoyance.. I'm looking at you, Salinger). When an author introduces the character as a villian, some truly beautiful negative personality traits can blossom. But I find it rare that a character meant for good, hero-esque things can have realistic negative qualities that don't end up cured or conceded.

Take, for example, Ian McEwan's Atonement. We begin the novel with 13 year old Briony, a good girl at heart. But within Briony we see a stubborn, selfish, and narcissistic streak that I found refreshing. Bri isn't a criminal, or a villain (although she does end up as the villain of this novel, I suppose), she is simply a little girl with good qualities and bad qualities, who makes a bad decision. However, by the time Atonement comes to a close, Bri's less than perfect personality traits are wrapped up into a neat little package with a big red bow, so perhaps that's not the best example. Nevertheless, I'm rooting for Power's hero, Peekay, to snap one of these days and go off at someone, or to use those boxing skills in a random, irresponsible manner.

I have an interview this afternoon to run the children's summer reading program at the library of my childhood hometown. Although it would require moving home to live in my mom's attic for three months, I am so thrilled about the opportunity that I can barely see straight. If I get the job, I will be spending the summer helping kids to get excited about reading, and to spend their time doing something other than watching TV, playing video games, or losing their virginities at an alarmingly early age (don't get me started on that rant). It will be my first real step into the librarian career, starting me on the path to grad school for a MLS degree and eventually into a public school system to work as a K-8 librarian within a school district. The outcome of this interview will probably influence my next book choice. So if I'm trudging through a lamenting tragedy for the next week, you're safe to guess that the interview wasn't stellar. Here's hoping for a comedy.