Title and Author	My Thoughts
The Mysterious Stranger; Mark Twain	Finished 1/28/2025; I read this wile in my compsci class instead of coding which is what I was supposed to be doing. Do not regret
The Year of the Flood; Margaret Atwood	Finished 1/26/2025; Second book in Maddadam series. at least as good as the first if not better; world building expanded much more, as did cast. From The God's Gardeners Oral Hymnbook: "The earth forgives the Miner's blast That rends her crust and burns her skin; The centuries bring trees again, And water, and the fish therein. The Deer at length forgives the Wolf That tears his throat and drinks his blood; His bones return to soil, and feed The trees that flower and fruit and seed. And underneath those shady trees The Wolf will spend her restful days; And then the Wolf in turn will pass, And turn to grass the Deer will graze All Creatures know that some must die That all the rest may take and eat; Sooner or later, all transform Their blood to wine, their flesh to meat. But Man alone seeks Vengefulness, And writes his abstract Laws on stone; For this false Justice he has made, He tortures limb and crushes bone. Is this the image of a god? My tooth for yours, your eye for mine? Oh, if Revenge did move the stars Instead of Love, they would not shine. We dangle by a flimsy thread, Our little lives are grains of sand; The Cosmos is a tiny sphere Held in the hollow of God's hand. Give up your anger and your spite, And imitate the Deer, the Tree; In sweet forgiveness find your joy, For it alone can set you free."
Oryx and Crake; Margaret Awtwood	Finished 1/20/2025; Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake, interview at MIT It was very good but made me quite depressed. Here is a passage I liked (for context, a virus has wiped everyone out): "But suppose - just suppose, thinks Snowman - that he's not the last of his kind. Suppose there are others. He wills them into being, these possible remnants who might have survived in isolation pockets, cut off by the shutdown of the communications networks, keeping themselves alive somehow. Monks in desert hideaways, far from contagion; mountain goatherders who'd never mixed with the valley people; lost tribes in the jungles. Survivalists who'd tuned in early, shot all comers, sealed themselves into their underground bunkers. Hillbillies, recluses; wandering lunatics, swathed in protective hallucinations. Bands of nomads, following their ancient ways. How did this happen? their descendants will ask, stumbling upon the evidence, the ruins. The ruinous evidence. Who made these things? Who lived in them? Who destroyed them? The Taj Mahal, the Louvre, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building - stuff he's seen on TV, in old books, on post cards, on Blood and Roses. Imagine coming upon them, 3-D, life-sized, with no preparation - you'd be freaked, you'd run away, and after that you'd need an explanation. At first they'll say giants or gods, but sooner or later they'll want to know the truth. Like him, they'll have the curious monkey brain. Perhaps they'll say, These things are not real. They are phantasmagoria. They were made by dreams, and now that no one is dreaming them any longer they are crumbling away."

Title and Author

My Thoughts

The Mysterious Stranger; Mark Twain

Finished 1/28/2025; I read this wile in my compsci class instead of coding which is what I was supposed to be doing. Do not regret

The Year of the Flood; Margaret Atwood

Finished 1/26/2025; Second book in Maddadam series. at least as good as the first if not better; world building expanded much more, as did cast.
From The God's Gardeners Oral Hymnbook:

"The earth forgives the Miner's blast
That rends her crust and burns her skin;
The centuries bring trees again,
And water, and the fish therein.

The Deer at length forgives the Wolf
That tears his throat and drinks his blood;
His bones return to soil, and feed
The trees that flower and fruit and seed.

And underneath those shady trees
The Wolf will spend her restful days;
And then the Wolf in turn will pass,
And turn to grass the Deer will graze

All Creatures know that some must die
That all the rest may take and eat;
Sooner or later, all transform
Their blood to wine, their flesh to meat.

But Man alone seeks Vengefulness,
And writes his abstract Laws on stone;
For this false Justice he has made,
He tortures limb and crushes bone.

Is this the image of a god?
My tooth for yours, your eye for mine?
Oh, if Revenge did move the stars
Instead of Love, they would not shine.

We dangle by a flimsy thread,
Our little lives are grains of sand;
The Cosmos is a tiny sphere
Held in the hollow of God's hand.

Give up your anger and your spite,
And imitate the Deer, the Tree;
In sweet forgiveness find your joy,
For it alone can set you free."

Oryx and Crake; Margaret Awtwood

Finished 1/20/2025; Margaret Atwood, Oryx and Crake, interview at MIT
It was very good but made me quite depressed. Here is a passage I liked (for context, a virus has wiped everyone out):
"But suppose - just suppose, thinks Snowman - that he's not the last of his kind. Suppose there are others. He wills them into being, these possible remnants who might have survived in isolation pockets, cut off by the shutdown of the communications networks, keeping themselves alive somehow. Monks in desert hideaways, far from contagion; mountain goatherders who'd never mixed with the valley people; lost tribes in the jungles. Survivalists who'd tuned in early, shot all comers, sealed themselves into their underground bunkers. Hillbillies, recluses; wandering lunatics, swathed in protective hallucinations. Bands of nomads, following their ancient ways.
How did this happen? their descendants will ask, stumbling upon the evidence, the ruins. The ruinous evidence. Who made these things? Who lived in them? Who destroyed them? The Taj Mahal, the Louvre, the Pyramids, the Empire State Building - stuff he's seen on TV, in old books, on post cards, on Blood and Roses. Imagine coming upon them, 3-D, life-sized, with no preparation - you'd be freaked, you'd run away, and after that you'd need an explanation. At first they'll say giants or gods, but sooner or later they'll want to know the truth. Like him, they'll have the curious monkey brain.
Perhaps they'll say, These things are not real. They are phantasmagoria. They were made by dreams, and now that no one is dreaming them any longer they are crumbling away."

Want 2 Read

a fire upon the deep - vernor vinge

the master and margarita

1491: new revelations of the americas before columbus

anything by william blake

the second sex, de beauvoir

being and nothingness, sartre

the way of zen, Alan Watts

chaos: creating a new science; (this one I have been half reading for like a year I haven't gotten far though)

brave new world, huxley

the wild iris, gluck

the glass bead game, Hesse

the road, mccarthy

My Favorites

Siddhartha, Hesse

If The War Goes On, Hesse

Catch 22, Heller

Oryx and Crake, Atwood

Train Dreams, Johnson

Hard boiled Wonderland at the End of the World, Murakami

Dharma Bums, Kerouac

Dune, Herbert

2001: A Space Odyssey, Clarke (the book, I have never seen the movie)

Rendevous with Rama, Clarke

Station Eleven, Mandel

All the Pretty Horses, McCarthy

The Gossamer Years: The Diary of a Noblewoman of Heian Japan

The Sympathizer, Nguyen

Telex from Cuba, Kushner

The Flame Throwers, Kushner (reread soon)

Norwegian Wood, Murakami

Never Let Me Go, Ishiguro

Oh Pure and Radiant Heart, Millet (reread soon)

A Children's Bible, Millet

Fight No More, Millet

Into the Wild, Krakauer

Eiger Dreams, Krakauer

Severance, Ma

The Transformation, Shelley (short story)

Rip Van Winkle, Irving (short story)

Illusions, Bach