Mikhail Bulgakov - The Master and Margarita

Sometimes re-imaginations of classic texts consist of nothing more than a cutesy renaming of characters and places, a cheeky sacrilege committed by undertalented 'writers.' Sometimes they don't.

The Master and Margarita is a true reinvention of the classic Faustian tale, set in 1930s Moscow. Written in Russian in the 1930s, the novel tells the story of what happens when Satan comes to Moscow. Incidentally, it also tells the story of what happens to parted lovers The Master and Margarita.

Translated to english, the novel retains that certain indefinite Russian flavor - that same flavor Nabokov has - and circuitous method of storytelling. If one can get beyond the first 100 pages, the story becomes captivating, and despite the slow start, those first 100 pages are essential to the rest of the story. Interspersed with the story of Pontius Pilate (from his own perspective), which is interwoven with the rest of the plot, the story is inventive, original (ironically) and entertaining.

The best part of the story is not The Master or Margarita, but Satan himself, along with his retinue, which includes a gigantic cat with a taste for chess, vodka, and arson.

Definitely a good read, and at only 300 pages, it doesn't even take too long.

Luis Alberto Urrea - The Hummingbird's Daughter

Part biographical fiction, part historical fiction, The Hummingbird's Daughter is a delicious book, set in pre-Industrial, pre-Mexican Revolution Mexico. Following the early life of 'La Santa De Cabora' - Teresita Urrea, Urrea (the name is no coincidence, saint and author are related) seamlessly blends the influences of the Virgin of Guadalupe and the indigenous beliefs and practices of medicine women in creating Teresita's character. Soundly researched and beautifully written, I think my favorite thing about this book is that Urrea resists the temptation to be overly reverential in his treatment of Teresita.

Teresita has a sense of humor, makes mistakes, gets scared, and retains a sense of wonder, or at least joy, in the world around her, and Urrea does an outstanding job capturing the world of harsh reality and puffy-cloud fantasy that one imagines Teresita lived in.

An enjoyable, captivating book to read - for all of its 500 pages, this book grabbed me and made me finish it in a fraction of the time it took me to force myself to read the Interpreter of Maladies.

William Faulkner - The Sound and The Fury

There's something simultaneously depressing and uplifting about reading amazing books. On the one hand, books this good remind us struggling reader-writers that we will never accomplish something of such staggering genius. But on the other hand, it reminds us that all we can do is write what we want how we want, and maybe, just maybe, it'll score us a Nobel Prize (or at least a Booker, or something made of metal and worth money).

The Sound and The Fury drops a massive F-bomb on anyone prepared to place rules on literature. Be warned: the first 80 pages make absolutely no sense-- narrated by a retarded man with no concept of time (and he's somehow still the most reliable of the narrators!)-- and devolving in the next 100 pages into a block of text so dense as to be impossible to read. It's written almost entirely in dialect, with complete disregard for grammatical conventions, and absolutely no concession made to the fact that a vast majority of readers simply won't have the patience or appreciation to finish the book.

And it's amazing-- definitely deserving of its place on the list of 100 Best Novels. Faulkner's uncanny ability to narrate from anyone's point of view; his use of symbols and precision with language; his evocation of place and person-- by the end of the third section you hate Jason so bad that you hope a truck loaded with cinder blocks will run over his chest-- make this an absolute joy to read. It's also a book that can be, indeed needs to be, read many times to really grasp what is going on.

FYI: My 'Next Up' thingie is ridiculously arbitrary. I finish things when I finish them and write about them when I want to-- Chinua Achebe may take me the rest of the year to read and report on at it's staggering length of 130 pages. In the meantime: courage!

Jhumpa Lahiri - The Interpreter of Maladies

I'm beginning to think that I'm just not good enough for Pulitzers. I started reading Jhumpa Lahiri's The Interpreter of Maladies in April, or May. I got one story in, picked up a fantasy book, and left Lahiri in the dust for months. I got back from Europe, read 3 more stories, and then read 3 fantasy books before forcing myself to finish the collection. I'm just not cut out for these books.

The Interpreter of Maladies (IoM) is a collection of short stories spanning continents and cultures. Transcending the boundaries of each story, however, are the character types in play - uniformly Indian and outcasts within their own communities and within foreign cultures, the characters in Lahiri's stories struggle with their identities and heritage. Each story is distinct and crisp, yet retains a languid quality and slightly off-putting flavor. Lahiri has a captivating way of describing emotion and scene, yet the collection fails to grab the reader's attention in any sustained fashion.

While the stories don't always end in unhappiness, the collection features a staple of Pulitzer Prize-winning novels: harsh illumination of the human condition. Maybe I'm an idealist, but I like my books to at least be cheerful, or humorous in their cynicism. I don't demand a happy ending, but The Interpreter of Maladies offers little to lighten the gloom of unhappiness.

Deft analogies and use of language only go so far, and for me, beauty of language could not save The Interpreter of Maladies from its subject matter.

Mark Abley - Spoken Here

The basic premise: Linguists estimate there are roughly 6,000 different languages spoken on Earth. In 100 years, that number may be as low as 600.

Part travelogue, part memoir, part elegy for endangered languages, Spoken Here is a fascinating exploration into what language is, what purpose it serves to mankind, and what happens when it goes away. Using examples from every corner of the globe, Abley gives poignant perspectives on the peoples, cultures, and ways of organizing the universe which necessarily disappear when language does. The outlook is grim given the massive power and money differentials in a rapidly globalizing world, but it's not all bad. There are examples of languages making resurgences, of simple programs governments can implement which foster multilingualism in children, giving them a fuller sense of their own culture, as well as multiple ways with which to view and explain their world.

No matter what Republicans may say, English is not the best language, and it's certainly not sufficient to encompass all human experience in all its forms. Example: English is not a very mystical language; it doesn't have a lot of mystical concepts or ways with which to express inexpressible things. A bunch of linguists got together and started teaching experimental maths and quantum physics and string theory to Navajos in Navajo-- a language permeated with mysticism, which has far more comprehensive and effective ways of explaining those particular ideas-- and it was a success. The students in Navajo got a better grasp on the concepts quicker than did groups being taught in English.

The fact of the matter is: no language is better than another, but each language has something to add to the expression of the human experience, something to say about who we are, and right now we are on a bullet train to losing 90% of those, and that is a tragedy.