2011 Reading #63: Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin
Books 1-10.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
61. Red Dragon by Thomas Harris.
62. Rules for Radicals by Saul D. Alinsky.
63. Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin. I think it may be worth noting that I spent the early part of this book being annoyed with it, in large part because the bulb in my halogen lamp that I primarily use for reading had burned out and I was therefore reading it by the light of a wholly inadequate desk lamp. Let it never be said that I can't be entirely unreasonable and prejudiced by external forces. Happily, once I read the book by alternative light sources I enjoyed it more. There are two caveats to that: 1. I really wish this book had been broken up with chapters and 2. I don't bear anything approaching the affection for The Aeneid that Le Guin expresses in her afterword. Granted, I have only read it once (and not in the original Latin), but that one reading led me to conclude that Virgil was a nationalistic hack who never met an original idea he couldn't appropriate. This book is primarily about Lavinia, though, and as drawn by Le Guin she's a wonderfully appealing and engaging character, with lots of tragically inevitable dysfunctional family drama. There's also a weird metafictional Möbius strip to the narrative, which makes it clear that it's centered on the fictional Lavinia and not the historical equivalent, so that really the novel is a meditation on Virgil's relationship to his unfinished epic, and in particular a character that he belatedly realizes he gave short shrift to. In the metafictional respect this story reminds me somewhat of Always Coming Home, and in other ways it's a close kin to Katharine Beutner's Alcestis. On the whole I found it a very satisfying read.
Books 11-20.
Books 21-30.
Books 31-40.
Books 41-50.
Books 51-60.
61. Red Dragon by Thomas Harris.
62. Rules for Radicals by Saul D. Alinsky.
63. Lavinia by Ursula K. Le Guin. I think it may be worth noting that I spent the early part of this book being annoyed with it, in large part because the bulb in my halogen lamp that I primarily use for reading had burned out and I was therefore reading it by the light of a wholly inadequate desk lamp. Let it never be said that I can't be entirely unreasonable and prejudiced by external forces. Happily, once I read the book by alternative light sources I enjoyed it more. There are two caveats to that: 1. I really wish this book had been broken up with chapters and 2. I don't bear anything approaching the affection for The Aeneid that Le Guin expresses in her afterword. Granted, I have only read it once (and not in the original Latin), but that one reading led me to conclude that Virgil was a nationalistic hack who never met an original idea he couldn't appropriate. This book is primarily about Lavinia, though, and as drawn by Le Guin she's a wonderfully appealing and engaging character, with lots of tragically inevitable dysfunctional family drama. There's also a weird metafictional Möbius strip to the narrative, which makes it clear that it's centered on the fictional Lavinia and not the historical equivalent, so that really the novel is a meditation on Virgil's relationship to his unfinished epic, and in particular a character that he belatedly realizes he gave short shrift to. In the metafictional respect this story reminds me somewhat of Always Coming Home, and in other ways it's a close kin to Katharine Beutner's Alcestis. On the whole I found it a very satisfying read.