Adding to the stack

Every so often (while I'm still reading a book; currently engaging Everything is Illuminated), I'm going to throw up some quick hits about books I've read in the past and reviewed for a list-serv my friends and I have (because that's how nerds get down). Stuff I'm adding now will be bold (just in case you happen to want to care what I originally wrote).

This is one such post (December 29, 2005):

Just finished two completely different books: Frankenstein and Prep (the latter by Curtis Sittenfield). If you've never read Frankenstein, it's a lot different from what you may know of the story. It's decent and surprisingly compelling. As I'm sure you're aware, Frankenstein is not the monster, but rather the name of the doctor. The book is told from both the monster's and Frankenstein's perspective, and it's hard to consider this a "horror" story in the same sense as the movies try to portray it. Sadly, there is no Igor.

Prep looks like a girl's novel, and in essence it is, because it's about a girl, but it's also well written (this sentence, I'm realizing, is so incredibly sexist that it makes an incredibly strong case for proofreading e-mails before you send them out). For you city dwellers, I'd say read it on the subway and see if any cute girls comment on it to you. (I'd actually recommend this tactic with a lot of books -- or rather, I'd say that a lot of people read certain books on the subway as a way to try to induce others to notice them. It would be interesting to interview some people and see if they choose reading material based a little bit on how it makes them appear intellectual. Food for thought. In fact, I plan on doing this in the near future as part of a joint Master's thesis/get-better-at-chatting-up-girls thing I'm working on).

I started reading Don Quixote, and maybe eventually I'll get around to finishing it, but for now I don't think I can read about episode after episode of this poor, crazy Spaniard constantly flailin' and failin' (which, amazingly, is the review the New York Times Book Review gave the novel when it came out). I'm actually a little disappointed in myself for not finishing this, mostly because I pride myself on finishing everything, even books I don't like. But this is 600 pages of "not exciting". I also feel like, I saw the Man of Lamancha, so I know the story, and no one is singing, so this is boring. One day I will got back and get this thing done, just to get it out of the way.

I remember reading somewhere that this was the greatest novel ever written, but I wonder now who exactly was claiming that, were they just saying that to feel enlightened and intelligent, and if they had actually read other novels. Because, realistically, the book is barely a novel to begin with. It's practically a serial, with each chapter or two essentially being a complete story, that all end up contributing to a whole.

If you've read it, let me know what you think, and if I should bother.