The Lost City of Z: A Tale of Deadly Obsession in the Amazon, by David Grann (2009) (448 pages)

My read of Percy Harrison Fawcett’s adventures in the Amazon followed shortly on the heels of reading two exceptional books about Shackleton’s inspiring journey to the Antarctic. Let’s compare the two men — Fawcett and Shackleton — and their motivations and styles.

Their motivations were similar. They both had that gritty obsessive need to explore, colonize, leave a mark, make a name, and become a permanent artifact of a disappearing World British Empire. Their styles, however, were distinctly different. Shackleton, through risk management, tenacity, and a singular desire to protect his crew, saved about 3o men from an almost impossible situation. Fawcett, with his over-inflated ego and oppressive management style, managed to alienate himself over several decades from most of his supporters in his quest to find the Lost City of Z, and to eventually disappear into the jungle with his 21 year-old son and his son’s friend, never to be seen again.

But that’s the story within the story. Perhaps even more interesting was the willingness of an overweight middle-aged reporter to pick up one day from New York, buy a backpack and hiking boots, and head to the Amazon, to see if he could accomplish what no one else has been able to do for almost one hundred years — determine the fate of Fawcett, his son, and his son’s friend, and find the Lost City of Z.

My Paper Chase is an autobiography Of Harold Evans’ life in journalism. It is written in episodic form, chronological in order, by Harold Evans — not surprising since it’s an autobiography. Despite his apparent humble beginnings, Harold Evans rose to apparently the top of British journalism at 39, assuming the position of Editor of the Sunday Times. During his editorship, he managed to increase readership, maintain high standards for journalism, improve health-care for Continue reading My Paper Chase, by Harold Evans (2009), 592 pages. →

The Sun Also Rises (1926), by Ernest Hemingway.

Imagine the show “Friends”. Now imagine the show with real characters, introduce alcohol, unrequited and unobtainable love, bull-fighting, and seething silent anger with the world. Hotels as abodes. American arrogance and European condescension. And a refreshing, pared down writing style that reads as cleanly and crisply today as it did almost 85 years ago. OK. Don’t imagine the show friends. The great “Lost Generation” novel.

Is this a hopeful novel?

I read Hemingway in my late teens and liked his writing, but I never really appreciated his writing. I’m sure at that time I read A Farewell to Arms, along with Old Man and the Sea and For Whom the Bell Tolls. At twenty in a college course I was challenged to write in Hemingway’s style in an advanced writing course. The writing came off stupid, child-like, written by a robot.

For years I put Hemingway aside, thinking his writing “just wasn’t my thing”. Instead, I enjoyed Joyce, Faulkner, and Tom Robbins — all the great 20th century artists.

A week ago I decided to give Ernie another try by reading A Farewell to Arms, his 1929 novel. How could I have missed the flat ironic tone? a tale of the walking dead? the angst of an entire generation? At this point, all I can ask is, what’s next? (Suggestion: The Sun Also Rises)

A People’s History of the United States, by Howard Zinn (2005), 729 pages, presents a radically different view of American history — one from the point of view of working class, disenfranchised, and oppressed people. From the opening chapter’s depiction of Christopher Columbus as a genocidal megalomaniac, supported by research, you realize this is not the history we were taught in public school. The first edition was published in 1980, selling its one millionth copy 23 years later. Whether you characterize Zinn as a radical historian, a pacifist ignorant of the terrorist-fed dangers all around us, a socialist, unpatriotic, or a voice of truth emerging from a jingoistic capitalist wilderness, one thing is clear: if you have a critical mind you will never view the story of history the same way. Highly recommended.

The Basque History of the World (1999), by Mark Kurlansky

From the author of “Cod: A Biography of the Fish that Changed the World” (1998) and “Salt: A World History” (2003) comes a facinating book about a complex people more mysterious than the Picts. (Purchase all three books and support one of the better contemporary writers. Note: merely check out from your local library “The Big Oyster: History on the Half Shell” (2007) — it’s not so good). Continue reading The Basque History of the World (1999), by Mark Kurlansky →

I could have done a couple of things differently over the last few days. I could have listened to Mariah Carey. Or Celine Dion. But, instead, I dove deep into the 278+ page “The Secret Live of Lobsters”.

“While I do not know for certain, I believe that lobsters may feel pain,” Jelle [Atema] says. “When we kill them for food we should do so quickly. But we should also honor them with thoughtful appreciation for what they have done for us. I believe we should strive for this in all corners of our lives.”

Lobsters, p. 278.

I have always thought that a good writer could make a seemingly mundane subject come to life. And a bad writer could ruin the most interesting of subjects. This book is a testament to the former although, now, I think that lobsters are an interesting subject. So it really doesn’t prove my point. Mary Tyler Moore’s recipe in the appendix on page 273.

Lastly, if you were wondering, the phrase “seemingly mundane” was pun intended.

Back to Celine. (Actually, Anouar Brahem’s The Astounding Eyes of Rita. More on that later.)