Author: alexander

Drinker of bad wine and writer of many things. Alexander writes fiction, manages a team of SEOs, and dabbles in food history. He also has a Doctorate in North American Religion and Culture and used to teach at Concordia University.

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Books

Books I Read in 2012 – The Best and Worst

In 2012 I read a total of 37 books, falling just shy of the 40 mark which I had set for myself sometime earlier in the year. Unfortunately my usual Xmas season burnout prevented me from polishing off that last stack of novels I had on my desk. After a steady two months-straight period of working 12-15 hours a day, including weekends, to finish my degree and freelance projects, crashing in front of the couch and watching movies became the a more appealing holiday leisure activity.

This year I’ve decided to include academic and non-academic texts in my list, considering that the old degree certainly dug into my reading schedule.

  • A Dance with Dragons by Martin
  • The Sacred Scimitar by Mabel Farnum
  • Magicien du Christ by Jules Emery
  • Faceless Killers by Henning Mankell
  • Roadwork by King / Bachman
  • The Theology of the Gospel of John by D. Moody Smith
  • The Running Man by King / Bachman
  • Clement of Alexandria by Salvatore L. Lilla
  • Sabda: Study of Bhrtrhari’s Philosophy of Language by Tanda Patnik
  • Clement of Alexandria by John Ferguson
  • Philosophy of Clement of Alexandria by E. F. Osborn
  • Doctrine of Vibration by Dyczkowski
  • Manichaeism in China by Lieu
  • Manichaean Texts in the Roman Empire by Gardner and Lieu
  • The Andromeda Strain by Crichton
  • The Battle of Brazil by Jack Matthews
  • The Regulators by King / Bachman
  • Chapterhouse Dune by Herbert
  • Hark! A Vagrant! by Kate Beaton
  • Ender’s Game by Card
  • Secret Lives of the Roman Emperors by Anthony Blond
  • Misery by King
  • The Dark Half by King
  • Thinner by King
  • Dunkirk by Robert Jackson
  • Eaters of the Dead by Crichton
  • Everything Under the Sun by David Suzuki
  • Harperland by Laurence Martin
  • Welcome to Lovecraft by Joe Hill
  • The Hunter by Stark
  • The Man with the Getaway Face by Stark
  • Reinventing Paul by Gager
  • Dirk Gently’s Holistic Detective Agency by Adams
  • 1000 Years of Annoying the French by Stephen Clarke
  • Acts of Thomas by Klijn
  • Cults and Beliefs of Edessa by Drijvers
  • Manichaeism in Mesopotamia and the Roman East by Lieu

One of the best books I read this past year would be “Everything Under the Sun” by David Suzuki, a thoughtful examination of, well, everything under the sun and the ways in which humans interact with them. The book reads as well as David Suzuki speaks, and encourages people to simply think rather than take any course of action.

As well, “The Hunter” by Stark deserves an honourable mention as well, even if it was an old book. After having read “The Dark Half” by King I wondered why the appeal would be in reading a series of crime novels about an anti-hero. Stark’s stories about Parker, whom King based his novel on, certainly cleared up any mystery.

Despite having found my way through a ton of entertaining, interesting and enlightening fiction and non-fiction works over the course of the year, not everything I read was worthy of such accolades. “Chatperhouse: Dune” is one such novel; after having taken 2 years and 3 tries to get through that novel, I finally managed to convince myself that finishing off the series was alone worth the pain that book caused me. It was honestly more of a parody of everything that made the original Dune great, and the poster child for how a series can slide down into meaninglessly masturbatory self-importance bordering on fan fiction.

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Opinions

New Year’s Should Start on January 2nd

I’ve discovered that New Year’s should start on January 2nd.

Calling January 1st the New Year is really kind of unpleasant considering how terrible everyone feels after a night of partying. December 31st up until January 2nd is really a time of limbo, a strange alcohol-fuelled period between the two years, where the entire world parties and then wakes up the next morning with a collective hangover. All holiday season, people talk about the coming year like it will be something different, that it will be hopeful and wonderful, and make all kinds of crazy resolutions and personal challenges, but by 11Am on the first I wonder if more than a fraction of those people are even functional as human beings.

No one remembers December 31st or the early hours of January 1st. Worst yet, no one wants to remember the dehydration headaches that follow for the rest of the day until you inevitably pass out around 8:30pm from exhaustion and unhappiness over your stupid decisions of the night before and that one last shot of Vodka that no one really wanted to do but you made everyone do just the same.

I think people could be a lot more hopeful if they knew that the New Year really only started on January second, when sobriety comes back to say hello and the Tylenol has worked its magic. Giving up 2 days to the time between times, to the the wild other, sounds like a fair price for being able to start the Year, the real Year, off on the road foot, even if it is a day late.

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Books Reviews

F. Scott Fitzgerald – The Great Gatsby

The Great GatsbyThe Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Every summer, either in the early months of June after the universities have let out their wards, or in the late months of August when the first wisps of an autumn breeze tumble through the crack in the windows, I find myself falling into the days of my youth. Every year, like clockwork, I would set myself down on my front porch and read a certain novel from start to finish.

To some, the Great Gatsby is nothing more than an addition to the curriculum of a lazy high school English class. To others, it was a novel that explored and defined the pomp and excess of the post-war generation. To me, the Great Gatsby will always be that lost summer, that self-contained unit in time where one suddenly discovers how out of place with their society they are, how confidences can be broken, and some friends become swept away with the first leaves of autumn.

Regardless of the place this book holds, or fails to hold, in your mind, memory or nostalgia, few could argue that F. Scott Fitzgerald was anything but a master storyteller, with a hold over the English language that few authors allow us to witness.

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