Back to the Classics 2018- Wrap Up Post

I'm cutting it close to the deadline this year, but I finally finished my Back to the Classics challenge! I finished all 12 categories, meaning that I get three entries into the drawing for the prize.

Here are the links to what I read for each category:

1. A 19th century classic: The American by Henry James (1877) - Completed March 2018  
2. A 20th century classic: The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1922) - Completed April 2018 
3. A classic by a woman author: Mansfield Park by Jane Austen (1814) - Completed September 2018 
4. A classic in translation: Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rølvaag (1924-1925) - Completed June 2018 
5. A children's classic: Heidi by Johanna Spyri (1881) - Completed February 2018 
6. A classic crime story: And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie (1939) - Completed November 2018 
7. A classic travel or journey narrative: Around the World in Eighty Days by Jules Verne (1873) - Completed January 2018
8. A classic with a single-word title: Walden by Henry David Thoreau (1854) - Completed October 2018 
9. A classic with a color in the title: The Ways of White Folks by Langston Hughes (1934) Completed February 2018 
10. A classic by an author that's new to you: Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank (1959) Completed March 2018 
11. A classic that scares you: Ulysses by James Joyce (1922) Completed December 2018 
12. Re-read a favorite classic: The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald (1925) Completed November 2018 

In case I win the big prize, my email address is: quiet.kristina [at] gmail [dot] com

I am very happy with what I read this year. I found a lot of new favorites, blogged about my all-time favorite novel, and visited a place inspired by one of my reads. As usual, I'm excited to do it all again in 2019!

Ulysses by James Joyce

Well, here we are. It's finally time to read Ulysses.

I've always known that I wanted to take this monster on one day, and the Back to the Classics Challenge prompt to "read a classic that scares you" was the push of encouragement I needed to give it a try. Ulysses is a legendary novel--it's considered to be one of the best modern classics of all time. It's also considered to be an extremely difficult read. In it, Joyce describes a day in the life of a man named Leopold Bloom as he travels through Dublin. Utilizing many different literary styles from chapter to chapter, stream of consciousness writing, and multi-layered allusions to other works and time periods, this 783-page tome is a challenge for readers to understand and appreciate. The rewards, however, are said to be worth the time and struggle.

Modern literature is not my favorite genre. While I can appreciate its importance to the literary cannon, I tend to not enjoy the experience of reading it. Accordingly, I've only read a small handful of modern classics. Ulysses is everything that frustrates me about books to the nth degree, so I was very reluctant to start in on it. I had serious concerns about my ability to understand the text, so I sat down and made a reading plan. I thought that might make it easier.

The first thing I did was determine where the chapters were. Ulysses is based on The Odyssey, and contains 18 chapters that roughly correspond to The Odyssey's 24 books. However, Joyce chose not to label any of them in the actual text, so I had to find a website that listed where the chapters started and stopped so I could break up the novel into sections. Once I accomplished that, I decided to read the novel a section at a time, alongside a study guide with chapter summaries, so I could hopefully keep track of what was going on. What follows are my impressions as I read, three chapters at a time.

Fair warning - this is probably going to be super-boring. For my overall impression of the entire book, just skip to the end of my review.

The Great Gatsby by F. Scott Fitzgerald

Whenever anyone asks me what my favorite book is, the answer is always the same. The Great Gatsby. Throughout my  life, I have read hundreds and hundreds of books, but something about this one sticks with me. I've read it several times since being introduced to it in my high school English class, and my fondness for it has only grown over time. It's been a few years since I last visited it, so when I saw that one of the Back to the Classics categories this year was to reread a favorite classic, I knew exactly what I wanted to choose.

The Great Gatsby is about the elusive and shady millionaire Jay Gatsby and his tragic attempt to recapture the heart of a girl from his past. The book is narrated by a friendly and semi-involved neighbor named Nick Carraway, who watches the events of the plot unfold from his little rental house next door to Gatsby's mansion one summer in 1922. Nick happens to be the cousin of Daisy Buchanan, the woman that Gatsby is in love with. Accordingly, once Gatsby figures this out, he enlists Nick to help in his quest to steal Daisy away from her current husband and rekindle their past romance.

The problem with Gatsby's grand plans are that he is chasing after a girl who no longer exists. Too much time has passed since they were first together, and although Gatsby has spent a lifetime building a fortune to impress Daisy, she is a different person now. She embodies the shallow, spoiled attitude of rich people from the Jazz Age, and while she still feels a bit of a spark for her old, lost love, she isn't about to break apart her easy, convenient life to go back to him. Gatsby, however, is oblivious to these facts and continues to pursue her with reckless abandon. The Great Gatsby is the story of how his ambitions come apart at the seams in the face of a careless, superficial society and how everyone is ultimately helpless before the unrelenting passage of time.

What I have appreciated about this novel has changed over time. When I was a high school student, it was all about Gatsby himself. I thought he represented the very height of tragedy. He was a victim of Daisy's carelessness--a true romantic that loved in a deep and meaningful way. His love drove him to great achievements, and persevered against all odds. For him to be rebuffed after all that effort seemed criminal. I couldn't understand Daisy. I was desperate for someone to love me the way he loved her. The sadness was in the lost romance, the broken hearts.

When I got a little older, and reread Gatsby in college, it was all about the writing. Gatsby was still a tragic figure, yes, but now I could appreciate the way Fitzgerald told the story. This was the first novel I can ever recall thinking was beautiful. The structure, the word choice, and the perfect brevity of the plot blew me away. Fitzgerald was writing in a way that I viscerally responded to--I could hear Daisy's voice "full of money" and feel Myrtle's "perceptible vitality." I could see Gatsby's shirts in a "many-colored disarray" as he threw them before Nick and Daisy and taste his champagne that was "served in glasses bigger than finger bowls." The prose moved me in a way I hadn't experienced before and put a stamp on my heart forever. The sadness of the novel was now in the language, the skillful weaving of a tragic story.

As time moved on and I revisited this story as an adult in my late 20s, it was all about the theme. Having lived a bit more of my life, I was able to understand the novel's message on a deeper level. That idea of reaching back for the good times of the past and never quite being able to recapture those feelings and experiences rang true to me now. The tragedy Gatsby experienced was not a failure of Daisy's love. It was the inevitable march of time. People change, places change, and circumstances change as we get older, and no amount of effort can ever bring back things exactly as they were. Gatsby's confident assertion that one can repeat the past took on a different, and much sadder tone now. For all his enthusiasm and single-mindedness towards his goal, he was destined to fail. His intentions were sweet and romantic, but he was blinded by his past feelings, lost in them, and that was his tragedy. The sadness was in the delusion, the mistaken belief that one can ever recapture the feelings of the "good old days."

Now that I've read the book again in my 30s, my appreciation for it has deepened further. All of the meanings I've taken from this novel over the years are still true. The Great Gatsby is a mix of all my feelings. It's a well-written story with a tragically romantic protagonist that explores a deeply relatable theme. It will always be my favorite novel because something about it speaks to me in a way that other books don't. It's hard to explain to others why certain stories appeal to certain people. The best I can do is say that I feel a kinship with these words, these characters, and these ideas. This book is one of my literary rocks--a safe place I can come back to again and again to find beauty and inspiration.

It's times like these that I feel very sorry for people who don't read. 

Challenge Tally

Back to the Classics (re-read a favorite classic): 11/12 

Total Books Read in 2018: 38

And Then There Were None by Agatha Christie

Somehow, I've managed to make it this far into my life without ever having read a novel by Agatha Christie. I know. I can't believe it either. I like mysteries, I like suspense, I like classics, and yet, I have never managed to pick up one of these up. The "classic crime story" category in my Back to the Classics Challenge for this year was the perfect encouragement to finally give a Christie novel a try. I had already purchased And Then There Were None at a deep discount on my Kindle ages ago, so I decided to start with that one and see if I agreed with all the hype.

The plot of the novel concerns ten different characters who, at the beginning of the story, are all called to come visit a mansion located on a private island. The ten people don't know each other and each one has been invited to the island under different pretenses. For example, one is supposed to be a secretary for the homeowner, another thinks he's catching up with old friends, etc. Everyone arrives at the home around the same time and learns that the mysterious person who called them together is unavoidably detained somewhere. They are instructed to make themselves at home until that person arrives. Shortly after that, everything goes to pieces.

A mysterious recording begins to play, and it accuses each of the ten guests of murdering someone. Shocked and outraged, the guests attempt to leave the island, only to realize that they are trapped. No boats are around to take them back to the mainland, and some rain clouds in the distance suggest that they won't be able to leave anytime soon. As they try to piece together what is happening and decide what to do, one of the guests is mysteriously murdered. No one knows who the culprit is, but they quickly arrive at the conclusion that it must be one of the remaining nine guests. No one else is on the island. Throughout the rest of the novel, the characters continue to die off one by one as the survivors frantically try to figure out who the killer among them is until they can find a way back to safety.

I loved this novel. Everything about it was pitch perfect--the creepy atmosphere, the suspicious cast of characters, and the intricate, fast-paced plot had me completely engaged from page one. Christie shifts the narration around from character to character in quick bursts, so that the reader is fed little crumbs of information about everyone on the island as the plot progresses. This has the effect of causing the reader's suspicion of who the culprit might be to hop around from character to character in turn. Just enough is revealed about each person to keep the plot exciting and leave the reader wanting more. I finished reading this in just a few days, as I was anxious to see who the killer would turn out to be. The ending was satisfying and was not easy to guess.

The title of the story, And Then There Were None, is taken from a derivative of a children's counting rhyme, "Ten Little Soldier Boys." This particular rhyme has had an unpleasant racial history, and the original title of this novel was something very different and very offensive. However American publishers had the foresight to change up the title and some of the words in the poem for the American release of the novel. It's a good thing too, because this little poem is mentioned a lot in the story. It is hung up in every room of the house and serves as the handbook for the murderer, who commits his crimes according to the events of the rhyme. It was a neat little framing device that added to the creepiness of the plot.

This is a fun read if for no other reason than to see a bit of mystery novel history. Christie invented the idea of a group of strangers being called to a mysterious location and being trapped together with a murderer. This setup has been used in so many other books, movies, and TV shows that it has become a cliche. And Then There Were None is where it all started, which makes it worth the read all on its own. I didn't know anything about the plot of the novel prior to reading it, so it was a fun discovery to see how this idea played out for the first time. I was strongly reminded of the movie Clue, which I had recently watched with my husband, which presents a comedic twist on this same structure.

Sometimes the classic novels that I read are a bit of a slog. The more challenging ones are like eating your vegetables--not always fun to get through, but good for your reading-health. And Then There Were None was nothing like that. This was a literary dessert, an easy read that was entertaining and interesting all the way through. It might have been a bit lacking in deeper meanings and themes, but it was creepy fun. Sometimes, that's all you need. I would highly recommend this novel to anyone who enjoys a good puzzle and some intrigue in their stories. It was a nice surprise for me and I'm very interested in reading more of Christie's novels in the future. I waited a long time to discover this author, and now I have to make up for lost time!  

Challenge Tally

Back to the Classics (a classic crime story): 10/12

Total Books Read in 2018: 37

Walden by Henry David Thoreau

Walden is one of those serious American novels that I always knew I wanted to read eventually, but half-dreaded actually starting. Although I am a seasoned reader of the classics, the philosophical leanings of this one intimidated me. Walden isn't a story in the traditional sense; it's a collection of the thoughts and feelings of Henry David Thoreau. I was concerned that I wouldn't understand a lot of it, or that it would be too boring to get through. Moving to Connecticut, however, finally motivated me to pick this novel up. I live only a few hours from Walden Pond now, and I thought it would be fun to read the book and then go see the place for myself. Apprehensively, I buckled down and gave it a try.

Walden is Thoreau's true account of the two years he spent living alone in a tiny cabin on Walden Pond in Concord, Massachusetts in the 1840s. This was a grand experiment for him, and a deep test of his beliefs as a transcendentalist. Transcendentalists believed in the purity of people and nature. They valued man's ability to be independent and self-reliant, and had a decided distaste for modern practices that removed man from the natural world and caused him to rely on others to fulfill his needs. Capitalism and new technology were viewed as corrupting influences while solitude and simplicity were viewed as the ideal ways of life.  In moving to the woods for a time, Thoreau aimed to live this ideal life and see if it was possible and fulfilling.

The opening sections of the novel detail how Thoreau established himself on the pond. He describes how he built his own tiny cabin and planted a small garden of beans and other vegetables to live on. He provides detailed records of his possessions and expenses throughout this time, proving that he was able to accomplish setting up his home for very little money. He is able to salvage things like tools and furniture in order to keep costs down, and forgoes any items that aren't absolutely necessary to living. He forages in the woods to supplement his food and drinks only water that he is able to obtain freely from a nearby well. In this way, he is able to provide entirely for himself without needing to have an outside job. He is at liberty to do whatever he likes most days and he glories in the freedom.

As the novel progresses, Thoreau moves onto describing the different sights and sounds he experienced as he lived through the different seasons on the pond. He details the changes in plant life, animal life, and the weather over the course of his residence, often stopping to reflect on the benefits of living so close to nature and taking care of one's own needs. Sprinkled throughout are passages on topics ranging from the importance of reading to the best dietary choices. Thoreau's thoughts are deep and his philosophy is clear. His love and respect for nature are evident on every page and his deep belief in the transcendentalist lifestyle is unwavering.

Eventually, Thoreau ends his experiment, saying, quite poetically, that, "[he] had several more lives to live, and could not spare any more time for that one." His experiment of independence and self-reliance was a complete success, and his experience at Walden was life-affirming. His concluding chapter is a beautiful encouragement to readers to enjoy their lives and seek greater happiness, no matter what their situation. 

Now that I'm at the end of my reading experience, I can honestly say that I enjoyed Walden. I can also say that it was not an easy read. It turns out that both of these things can be true at the same time. I was consistently blown away by thoughtful and inspiring passages. However, I was just as often bored or confused by sections that I struggled to understand. Thoreau's writing is complex; his sentences are long and are often peppered with allusions to things a modern reader wouldn't be familiar with. This made comprehension a challenge at times. Also, some of the more descriptive sections were a bit dry and difficult to get through. For example, much of one chapter is devoted to how ice forms and melts in the pond during the winter, which wasn't exactly riveting material. Despite the difficulty level though, there is enough wisdom and beauty going on in the pages to make the journey worth it, and it's understandable enough for a determined reader to make it through okay. 

As I read, I found myself wondering how I would do living out on my own in the woods like Thoreau did. I've never even gone on so much as a camping trip, so probably not very well. Even so, it's always been an idle fantasy of mine to have a little farm out in the middle of nowhere, so his transcendental philosophy was very attractive to me. I do think there's a lot of wisdom in the idea of people living quiet, simple lives. Getting closer to nature, providing for yourself, and making time for reflection and observation sounds quite nice. I think that's one of the reasons why Walden has endured all these years. Thoreau touches on a longing that a lot of people still have. That urge to get away from the cruel machine of modern society and just be alone for a while. I admire him for actually going out an trying it instead of just thinking about it. 

Now that I've finished reading, my desire to visit the real Walden Pond has only increased. I'm hoping to travel there in a few weeks to see what standing on that shore feels like. It will be my first ever literary vacation and I can't wait. I'm glad that I finally picked this novel up. It was a very unique reading experience, even with all its difficulties along the way. I know that I will be thinking about many of Thoreau's words and opinions for a long time to come.

Challenge Tally

Back to the Classics (a classic with a single word title): 9/12
Classics Club (#65 on my list): 32/100

Total Books Read in 2018: 36

Mansfield Park by Jane Austen

When the general disorder and upheaval from my big move (mostly) settled down, I found myself far behind my usual pace in reading. It's hard to snuggle into a cozy spot with a cup of coffee and a good book when everything is in confusion and your schedule is all out of order. With the end of the year approaching at an alarming pace, I decided to tackle the next book in my Back to the Classics Challenge this year, Jane Austen's Mansfield Park.

I've always had a tenuous relationship with the works of Jane Austen. I usually find myself bored while reading her novels, but generally warm up to them as they end, with the sweet romances of the main characters making up for the rambling, uneventful stretches of prose that came before them. In truth, I want to like Austen more than I do, and I keep trying her books hoping to see the appeal that other lovers of classic literature are able to find so easily. I came the closest to truly enjoying one of her novels with Pride and Prejudice, and I was hoping to continue the trend with Mansfield Park, a novel that many readers consider to be her most mature and complex work.

The plot of the novel follows Fanny Price, a young woman who is sent to live with a wealthy aunt and uncle as a small child. As Fanny grows up under her relations' care at Mansfield Park, she is made keenly aware of the difference between herself and her four cousins. Coming from a poor background, she is not worthy of the same privileges as everyone else around her, and while no one is cruel or abusive towards her, she is clearly regarded as being the "lesser" member of the household. She runs errands for her aunts, keeps her opinions to herself, and spends time in quiet pursuits like reading. As her personality is extremely shy and conservative, she doesn't much mind this isolation, and is grateful to her aunt and uncle for their continued hospitality. She bears her disappointments quietly and tries to be useful to those around her.

The one exception to state of casual disregard for Fanny is her cousin Edmund, who has always been kind to her. He is the most sensitive and thoughtful of all of her cousins, even as a young boy. He sees to her needs, spends hours in conversation with her, and helps to shape her mind over the years. By the time they are both young adults, Fanny is secretly deeply in love with him. Edmund, however, sees her as nothing more than a dear sister. Fanny firmly believes that she has no hopes of a romantic relationship with him, and never voices her feelings aloud, but she hangs on his every word and admires him deeply.

Her quiet life is changed, however, with the arrival of a Mr. and Miss Crawford, a wealthy brother and sister who move to the area to live with their relations. As the pair are the same general age as the young adults at Mansfield, they all become fast friends and frequently take walks, socialize, and dine together. Fanny, who is always at the periphery of these gatherings, soon observes that the influence of Mr. and Miss Crawford upon her family is anything but beneficial. Both seem to show a lack of appropriateness sometimes, with Miss Crawford, Mary, making questionable remarks and being altogether too forward, and Mr. Crawford, Henry, flirting shamelessly with her cousins Maria and Julia.

Being who she is, however, Fanny says nothing to anyone about her misgivings. Soon, she is devastated to see Edmund fall under Mary's spell entirely. He begins planning a marriage proposal to her and is frequently discussing his feelings about this with Fanny, which is very difficult for her to hear. Maria and Julia, both thoroughly in love with Henry by this time, begin to fall out with one another as they battle for the affections of this man, who does not appear to be seriously attached to either one of them. The situation spirals steadily downward, with hurt feelings and disappointments cropping up at every turn. Eventually, in a move as surprising to Fanny as it is distasteful, Henry turns his attentions on herself, and begins an aggressive romantic pursuit which throws all of her feelings into confusion and alienates her from her family. In typical Austen fashion, misunderstandings, heartfelt yearnings, and hurt feelings abound until a scandal brings about a turning point that sets the honorable characters on the right path again.

As in all Jane Austen novels, this one ends happily, with the poorly behaved characters punished and the well behaved ones rewarded. I experienced my usual highs and lows while reading. This novel is just over 400 pages and for 325 of them, I struggled. The pace was glacial, with most of the plot consisting of Fanny being disapproving or faintly embarrassed by things in turns. She was such a virtuous, introverted, and conservative character that is was hard to be engaged in her story. If she was wealthy enough to have a strand of pearls, she'd have been clutching them throughout most of the novel. That being said, she was the most like me, by far, of any Austen heroine I've read. I'm a bit upset that I couldn't bring myself to like her more. Perhaps I saw in her an intensification of all my lesser qualities. Like Fanny, I have a tendency to remain quiet, seek out solitude, and avoid being the center of attention. However, in her, these tendencies are carried to quite an extreme, making her rather boring and prudish to read about. It forces me to wonder, is that how the more outgoing people in the world see me? It's not a fun question to consider.

Fanny isn't the only character I struggled to enjoy. Edmund was also an issue. He was even more conservative and virtuous than Fanny, if that's even possible. He was, to put it mildly, not fun or alluring in the slightest. This made him Fanny's perfect match, but it didn't make him particularly endearing. I was also a little weirded out by the idea of Fanny being romantically interested in a man that she calls her brother. I know that cousin marriages were common in Austen's day, but these characters had been living together as brother and sister from the tender age of ten. It was a little bit off-putting to root for them as a couple.

Pacing issues and self reflection aside, other elements of the story haven't aged well, which impacted my enjoyment of the novel. Fanny is pushed and pulled through the plot, with everyone around her trying to manipulate her into making the choices they think are best for her. The most egregious example of this comes towards the end of the novel when Henry is trying to secure her hand in marriage. Fanny steadfastly refuses his suit, as she knows from his previous flirtations with her cousins that this man is incapable of remaining faithful to one woman. This is virtually the only time in the novel that she makes a decision for herself and sticks with it, in spite of what her family wants. Her family, especially her uncle, is baffled by her choice. They believe that this is the best offer she is likely to get by far, and they begin on a campaign to force her to change her mind. They subject her to constant prodding about the issue, with even her beloved Edmund taking a turn to tell her what's best for her. Her uncle goes so far as to excoriate her and call her ungrateful for refusing the match, which is incredibly painful to someone like Fanny, who lives to please her relatives, to hear. Eventually, the family decides to send her back to "visit" with her mother and father, who are poor and coarse individuals, to shock her into changing her mind. This time spent with her original family is devastating to Fanny's mental and physical health and is profoundly painful to her. She endures much suffering under this manipulation, and the plan very nearly works until Henry does something scandalous enough to remove himself from the picture. This kind of emotional abuse of women plays particularly poorly in today's more progressive atmosphere. While the time and place of the novel excuse these sorts of plot points, I still struggled to find enjoyment in a story that treats women so poorly.

The last 75 pages or so of the novel went much more quickly than the pages that proceeded it, with all of the interesting bits of the story happening in rapid succession. This seems to be a consistent tendency of Austen's. For me, most of her plots start out extremely slowly, then pick up at the end. The endings are almost enough to make up for the dreary beginnings in many cases. Mansfield Park, however, proved to be an exception to this trend. Rather than continue the narration of the story in the third person limited (mostly) style of the rest of the novel, Austen herself steps in for the final chapter and directly speaks to the reader, telling them everything that happens to the characters in the future. It felt awfully disappointing to be robbed of seeing the first tender words or romantic embraces that Fanny finally gets to enjoy after so much suffering and self-denial (even if they were with her cousin-brother). I wanted to be there when that turn happened, not hear about it afterwards. It was disappointment all around with this one.

As for the idea that Mansfield Park is the most mature and complex of Austen's novels, I have to admit that I didn't see it. Fanny is undoubtedly a very mature character, but she isn't a particularly complex or interesting one, and her conservative views on matters only function to delay her happiness in the story. In fact, she was very close to reversing her decision and accepting Henry's suit despite her high-minded refusals. Henry ended up ruining things for himself through his impulsive behavior. Fanny's virtue wasn't so much a triumph as a win-by-default situation. In fact, many characters in the novel end up blaming Fanny for Henry's behavior, claiming that he might not have made the choices he did if she had accepted him sooner. Even Austen herself directly states this point through her narration in the novel's final chapter. Whatever point Austen was going for was muddied by these assertions. Did Fanny's virtue serve to protect herself from a villain, or did it lead to the ruin of Henry? It's ultimately left unclear.

Ultimately, I found this novel to be a bit of a rambling mess (kind of like this review, at this point). I didn't completely dislike it, and by the end I was eager to figure out the fate of all the characters, but I can't say I enjoyed this reading experience. Fanny was too prim and proper for me to fully enjoy her, Edmund was a self-righteous bore, and the emotional manipulations of the supporting characters felt overly cruel. Everyone roots for a character that can't catch a break, and I did begin to root for Fanny by the end of the story, but it was too long a road to get there. At the novel's close, I still found myself struggling to understand the overall theme of the story.

One day I will give up on trying to enjoy Jane Austen, but I'm still determined to get a review up for all of her works on the blog (which will even entail some rereading of novels I tackled long ago). I suppose I'm a glutton for punishment in this regard. At least I can say that I finished a Back to the Classics category with this read, as well as a selection from my Classics Club list. I'm more than ready to move onto my next literary conquest now and leave my perpetual Jane Austen struggle behind for a little while.



Challenge Tally
Back to the Classics (a classic by a woman author): 8/12
Classics Club (#71 on my list): 31/100

Total Books Read in 2018: 33

Giants in the Earth by O.E. Rølvaag

I first came across Giants in the Earth when I was still in high school, probably about 15 years ago now. I was bargain-hunting at a bookstore that was going out of business at my local mall. The prices on everything were slashed significantly, and I ended up with loads of classics for a steal. This novel was one of them. I had never heard of it before, but I could tell from the cover that it was a famous one. I took it home and it has sat on my shelves ever since.

When I was searching for a novel for the "translated classic" prompt for my Back to the Classics Challenge this year, I remembered this book. I was pretty sure it was a translated work because of the author's name, but I did a little bit of research just to be sure. I discovered that O.E. Rølvaag occupies an interesting place in the literary cannon. He was born on a small island off the coast of Norway in 1876. He spent his youth as a fisherman there. His family was poor, and Rølvaag did not attend school regularly, but a deep love of literature helped to keep his mind sharp. He read everything he could get his hands on, including translations of many classic American and British works. When he was 20 years old, he decided to try and make a new life for himself in America, and moved in with an uncle who owned a farm in South Dakota. Eventually, he pursued a college education there and became a novelist and professor of literature at St. Olaf College in Minnesota. He achieved the American Dream.

The reason his background is interesting is because he straddles the line between Norwegian and American literature. He was born and raised in Norway, wrote all of his novels in Norwegian, and writes about Norwegian characters. At the same time, his writing was heavily influenced by American writers, his novels are set in America, and he did all the actual writing while he was living in America. Whether you consider his works to be Norwegian, American, or something in between depends on how one likes to classify literature, but he certainly is a unique sort of author.

One thing that isn't hazy, however, is the fact that Giants in the Earth, his most well-known novel, is a translated work. Rølvaag wrote it in Norwegian, published it in Norway first, then assisted in translating the text to create an English version. In my copy of the novel, he includes an author's note at the beginning of the text describing how difficult it was to translate the work into English, owing to his use of several Norwegian idioms and references. To help offset this, he includes footnotes throughout the text to help contextualize some of the characters' comments and situations in the story. This note satisfied me that this novel was an excellent choice for my challenge. Not only was it translated from another language, it would be my first book written by a Norwegian author. I started reading, excited to learn something new.

Giants in the Earth tells the saga of Per Hansa and his family as they immigrate from Norway to America to begin their lives as homesteaders in the Dakota Territories. At the start of the novel it is 1873, and Per Hansa, his wife Beret, and their three children are slowly making their way west in a wagon to start a new settlement on the prairie with their friends. Once they claim their land, the family settles down to begin establishing their farm. It isn't an easy task, and the family faces all sorts of struggles as they get started. Inclement weather, social isolation, medical problems, difficulty with crops, and plagues of locusts all threaten to ruin their fragile settlement. However, Per Hansa's irrepressible enthusiasm and unparalleled good luck get them through most events more or less unscathed. He proves to be a savvy businessman and a wise farmer. Before long, he is doing better on his land than most of his neighbors are. They all help each other as they move through the seasons, and form a tight little Norwegian community that grows larger through the years as more settlers slowly begin to show up.

One problem that Per Hansa can't solve through his hard work and business acumen, however, is the depression of his wife. Beret did not want to leave Norway and give up all her friends and family to move to America, but ultimately agreed to follow her husband. She was never able to overcome her misgivings, and is constantly terrorized by the wide, empty prairie. Her frequent worry is that there's "nothing to hide behind" so far away from civilization. She is lonely, frightened, and begins to suffer scary episodes in which she doesn't act like herself. When the locusts descend upon their farm, she has a complete mental breakdown that lasts for years and takes a tremendous toll on the family. Even when she comes back to herself, things aren't ever the same. Her sadness runs throughout the novel as a sharp counterpoint to Per Hansa's love for their new home, casting a shadow around the edges of everything and reminding readers that there was more to homesteading than dealing with the physical difficulties.

The parts of the novel dealing with Beret's mental illness were the most compelling to me. I felt a connection with her throughout to novel, as I am also on the brink of a big move and have some misgivings about it. Like her, I have an enthusiastic and smart husband that is excited for the change. Also like her, I am dreading leaving everything I know behind. I don't mean to say that my difficulties will be anything like hers were-- I am moving across my own country to a normal city where I have every expectation of being relatively happy-- but I understand the fear and the sadness at leaving. This empathy connected me with the story more deeply than if I had read it at any other time in my life, so I'm happy that I waited until now. I was also pleasantly surprised that the mental health of a female character was explored so deeply, as a lot of older novels don't spend much time on their supporting women. Per Hansa mentions a few times that he blames himself for Beret's condition and admits that he should have paid more attention to her feelings about moving, which I liked. While her mental illness wasn't exactly his fault, it shows that there is more to his character than building, business dealings, and farming. He created an amazingly successful home in spite of incredible difficulties, but his pioneer story isn't a happy one, and it's because he comes to understand that he was a bit too self-centered. For a home to be happy, the needs of each family member need to be met. Beret's weren't.

I really enjoyed reading this novel, but not in the usual way. There were stretches that were boring, I didn't always understand how time was flowing, and some characters dropped out of the novel for oddly long stretches (including some of Per Hansa's own children). The male character's names were so similar to each other that I was often confused, and the last section of the novel was too dissimilar to the sections that preceded it. I'm not even sure what to make of the ending. However, I ultimately felt that the journey was absolutely worth taking. I learned a lot about how the early Norwegian pioneers settled in this country, and caught a glimpse at a way of life completely different to my own. I also learned a lot about Norway in general, due to the footnotes throughout the novel. Rølvaag's descriptions of the prairie, especially the sections that talked about the snow, were beautifully crafted and a joy to read. This wasn't exactly a page-turner, but it was a true, old school saga that is worthy of the acclaim it has received over the years. It reminded me a lot of Little House on the Prairie, which is a series I only ever partially read as a kid, but loved all the same.

It's funny how random little events can bring neat things into your life. If that bookstore hadn't been closing all those years ago, I probably still wouldn't know anything about Giants in the Earth, and that would be a shame, because it was a really unique reading experience. I'm glad that I chose this for my reading challenge this year. It didn't end up being a special favorite, but it was a worthwhile read and I know that I will be thinking about certain aspects of it for a long time.


Challenge Tally:  
Back to the Classics (a classic in translation): 7/12
Classics Club (#98 on my list): 29/100

Total Books Read in 2018: 25

The Beautiful and Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald

I have been an F. Scott Fitzgerald fan since my high school days. Reading The Great Gatsby in 10th grade was a literary turning point for me. I had never before understood how sentences could be beautiful or how a well-crafted plot twist could leave you reeling. In fact, Gatsby started my appreciation for the classics, an interest that (obviously) hasn't waned over the years.

I eventually want to read all of Fitzgerald's novels. I tried This Side of Paradise a few years ago, and was a bit disappointed with it. It was his first book, however, so I considered it to be an interesting look at an author whose greatest works were yet to come. With my Back to the Classics Challenge requiring me to read a novel published in the 20th century, I figured this was a good time to give another one of his stories a shot. I started reading The Beautiful and Damned, Fitzgerald's second book, hoping to enjoy it a bit more.

The plot of The Beautiful and Damned follows a young man named Anthony Patch. At the beginning of the novel, which is set in 1913, he is living a life of relative luxury in a New York City apartment. As the grandson of a famous social reformer worth millions, Anthony doesn't have to work. He lives off of a modest allowance of family money and spends his days socializing with his friends, attending parties, and casually dating a series of women. He has an interest in writing historical novels one day, but he only makes halfhearted efforts in that direction. He gets bored at times, but subscribes to the idea that since everything in life is mostly meaningless, there's not much point in trying to do anything more than pursue leisure activities.

His life takes a turn when he meets Gloria Gilbert, a similarly moneyed society girl vacationing in New York with her family. Gloria is uncommonly beautiful and very willful. She seems almost untouchable in her popularity, floating around the city every night with different friends and different men. She parties incessantly and is completely self absorbed. Instantly, Anthony falls in love with her, and after a short and dramatic courtship, they marry.

At first, Anthony and Gloria spend their days lost in a newlywed haze. They travel through Europe on a honeymoon and eventually settle back down in Anthony's apartment. As both have expensive tastes and go out nearly every night, they run through their allocation of money very quickly. They aren't overly concerned about that though, because they know that when Anthony's rich grandfather passes away they stand to inherit millions. They make no efforts to restrain their spending and are soon living high above their means, renting homes and driving around in cars that they can't afford in the long term.

The good times for the couple, predictably, don't last long. Their decadent and lazy lifestyle becomes boring quickly and their narcissistic personalities are in frequent conflict. Soon, both begin to push the limits with partying and alcohol in order to recapture the thrills of their earlier days. One night, during a particularly rowdy gathering at their home, Anthony's grandfather makes an unexpected visit. He is enraged by the debauchery he witnesses, immediately writes Anthony out of his will, and then dies just a few weeks afterward. Anthony appeals the will, but the case remains tied up in court for years. His money dwindles down to nothing, and the couple spirals deep into alcoholism. Faced with the depressing prospect of living frugally and working a job, Anthony becomes increasingly angry and violent until, one afternoon, he suffers a mental breakdown.

Anthony's downward spiral is part of the theme of the novel, but what exactly we are supposed to learn from his story is muddled at the novel's end. Against all odds, Anthony and Gloria end up winning their case against his grandfather's will and become millionaires. The final pages of the novel show an Anthony that is somewhat diminished from his emotional problems, but triumphant in his victory against having to give up his lifestyle and go to work. Indeed, he muses at the end of the novel that, "Only a few months before people had been urging him to give in, to submit to mediocrity, to go to work. But he knew that he was justified in his way of life--and had stuck it out staunchly." His final thought is "I showed them...it was a hard fight, but I didn't give up and I came through!" He learns absolutely nothing from his experience, and comes out of it richer than he was before. I'm not sure what readers are supposed to take from that. It could be meant to be an ironic ending, but it feels like Fitzgerald was being genuine--like he honestly believed that Anthony "overcame" something and succeeded.

The reasoning behind this unsettling ending becomes a bit clearer when considering Fitzgerald's real life. He stands in a weird place in literary history. He was a legendary party boy while he was alive. He lived the stereotype of a 1920s life, with jazz music, flappers, and booze galore. He basically was Anthony Patch, right down to the frivolous lifestyle, tumultuous marriage, and serious alcoholism. However, his novels mercilessly lampoon the society he participated in. He frequently criticizes the emptiness of the lives of the wealthy during this time period and often shows these types of characters meeting tragic ends. He was a man who understood the problems of the society he lived in, but couldn't help indulging in all the vices he wrote about. Perhaps this explains why The Beautiful and Damned is both a cautionary tale and a success story. He knows that Anthony's behavior wasn't right, moral, or healthy, but he couldn't resist having him win at it.

This is the novel that Fitzgerald wrote in between This Side of Paradise and The Great Gatsby, and it definitely feels like a middle kind of book. I enjoyed it more than his first novel, mostly because it stuck to telling one complete story and didn't digress too much into experimental chapters and philosophy sections. That being said, I had some issues with it. It was definitely over-long. Anthony and Gloria's boredom and flaws are discussed endlessly, and my interest started to wane as Fitzgerald labored his points. For a relatively thick book (my version had 366 pages of very small print), not much happens. This stands in stark contrast to Gatsby, which is a masterpiece in brevity. There were some beautiful passages in The Beautiful and Damned, but it was too often a slog to get to them. This novel was also lacking a character to root for, as both Anthony and Gloria were difficult to like, for multiple reasons. I found myself longing for a Nick Carraway or a Jay Gatsby to sympathize with. Instead, this novel was full of Daisys and Toms--empty people with nothing to say and even less to do. Even so, there was a lot in this novel that was promising, but despite my best efforts to get into it, I was often bored and sleepy while reading.

The best part about reading The Beautiful and Damned was knowing that Fitzgerald would be writing The Great Gatsby next. It was exciting to think that the issues I noticed with length, character development, theme, and structure were about to melt away in his very next work. While this story of Anthony and Gloria isn't a special favorite for me, it was definitely an interesting look at a stepping stone Fitzgerald used on his way to greatness. What's more, it was a clear window into the lives of the privileged, moneyed class of people living in America in the 1920s. Overall, I'm glad that I gave this book a shot, and look forward to continuing to explore the rest of Fitzgerald's novels.



Challenge Tally:
Back to the Classics (a 20th century classic): 6/12
Classics Club (#38 on my list): 27/100

Total Books Read in 2018:18

Alas, Babylon by Pat Frank

I've had Alas, Babylon sitting on my shelf since I was in high school, meaning that it's been on my to-be-read pile for about fourteen years now. The edges of the pages have yellowed and I had to blow a bit of dust off the top of it when I picked it up. Clearly, it's way past time that I actually read it. I initially purchased this book during my "buy anything that is a classic" phase, so aside from a vague recognition that the book was famous, I knew nothing about it. Up until a week ago, that was still true. I went into reading this completely blind, with no real idea about the plot, characters, or author. Naturally, that made it a perfect fit for my "classic by an author that's new to you" category in the Back to the Classics challenge. I went into my reading hopeful that I would find a new favorite.

The plot shifts between a handful of characters, but it mostly focuses on Randy Bragg, a rather aimless man living in central Florida in the 1950s in a tiny town called Fort Repose. He comes from a prominent political family in his hometown, but his own attempts to be elected to an office have failed. Mildly embarrassed, he lives alone in the house he inherited from his parents and makes his living from a family citrus grove.

As the story begins, Randy receives a mysterious message from his brother Mark that ends with the phrase, "Alas, Babylon." This phrase is a code from their childhood, and means that some disaster is about to happen. Alarmed, Randy goes to his brother who explains that Russia is poised to attack America with nuclear weapons. Mark, a high-ranking military official, is required to stay at his base and fulfill his army duties, but he tells Randy that he wants to send his wife and children to live with him for a while. Shaken, Randy accepts his brother's proposition and begins to prepare for the worst.

Mere days after this meeting, Mark's prediction comes true and atomic bombs begin to rain down on America. Randy's town is spared a direct hit, but he can see and hear several explosions from a distance. In an instant, the country is almost completely crippled. Electricity is lost immediately, food and gasoline run out shortly after that, and radio news updates are scattered and brief. Randy has no reliable way to figure out what's going on in the rest of the country and he feels alone and frightened. He pulls himself together, however, for his brother's family, who he is now responsible for. He takes on a leadership role within his neighborhood and begins, slowly, to learn how to survive in a world that has suddenly become alien to him.

Alas, Babylon was published during the height of the Cold War--a time when fears of nuclear exchange weighed heavily on the minds of Americans. Pat Frank worked as a war correspondent and served on several government committees before writing it, and these experiences allowed him to write a novel full of details that feel credible. He firmly believed that if America were to come under a nuclear attack, the government would not be prepared to handle it in an efficient and orderly manner, and the plot of Alas, Babylon reflects that belief. Once the bombs fall, the characters become cut off from the wider world. They don't know what other areas of the country were affected, if their government still existed, or even who was "winning" the conflict. They don't end up finding out any details at all until months and months after the bombings. Only by working together and sharing resources are they able to form their own functioning society, and they do it all on their own. In this way, the novel is ultimately hopeful about the future of mankind, but it is still a chilling examination of what might happen if a war breaks out in the atomic age.

That being said, I didn't enjoy this novel as much as I hoped I would. While Frank's insights into the military and how victims of war behave were undoubtedly valuable, his writing style and characterization missed the mark for me. The book was littered with dramatic moments that lacked proper build-up and his characters were often bland or weirdly hysterical. The prose demanded an emotional response from the reader that it hadn't earned, as it was difficult to care for anyone in the story. I found myself in the odd position of thinking that the situations in the story were realistic, but the characters themselves weren't. A lot of the narration was quite heavy-handed as well, with Frank's overly dramatic pronouncements sounding plain silly sometimes. It made the reading a bit of a slog, to be honest.

Another issue that consistently bugged me was the blatant racism and sexism present throughout the story. While I know that this is a reflection of the time period that the book was written in, there were several moments or comments that felt unnecessary. For example, when discussing inviting a black family to their house for dinner, one of the characters blithely remarks, "I've always believed in mixing crowds at my parties...but what about mixing colors?" In another section, a female character discovered a freezer full of melted, spoiled food and, "as any housewife would do under the circumstances, she wept." Later in the novel, Randy allows two of the younger children in the community to carry out guard duty at night. The young white boy in the group totes a gun, while the young black boy carries a spear. Perhaps my favorite moment, however, is when a few of the female characters become upset over the loss of a pet and the disobedience of a child and Randy comments that, "The more he learned about women the more there was to learn except that...they needed a man around." I do not think that Pat Frank was deliberately trying to be racist or sexist (in fact, he was probably pretty forward thinking for his time based on how he has Randy behave throughout the story), but he certainly wrote several cringe-worthy lines that had me rolling my eyes.

Ultimately, Alas, Babylon was only an okay read. I appreciated the ideas and professional expertise that Frank brought to the novel. I thought the story asked interesting questions, the plot was mostly engaging, and the ending was pretty good. My enjoyment of it was limited, however, by the odd writing style, wooden characters, and stereotypical beliefs. I don't think that Pat Frank is destined to become a favorite of mine, but I am glad that I gave his book a shot. It was an interesting look at a possible future that I hope never actually comes about.  


Challenge Tally:
Back to the Classics (a classic by an author that's new to you): 5/12
Classics Club (#31 on my list): 26/100

Total Books Read in 2018:14

The American by Henry James

I have an odd relationship with Henry James. I first came across him on my AP Language exam back when I was in high school. We had to read an excerpt from The Golden Bowl and answer questions on it. I was intrigued by the passage, so I started buying up James novels as I came across them over the following years. I didn't read them, mind you, but I bought them like they were going out of style. As a result, I have several of James' works on my shelves and most of them have been sitting there for over a decade at this point.

What I didn't know back when I was building up my little classics library is that the work of Henry James changes a lot from his early novels to his later ones. He is a key figure in the transition from literary realism to modernism. His early works stick to more traditional literary techniques, while his later works become very experimental. As a rule, I'm not the biggest fan of modernist literature, so a lot of James' work is tough for me to get into. I read The Ambassadors (one of his later works) a few years ago, and really struggled with the stream of consciousness style. I read The Bostonians (one of his earlier works) in college, and really loved it.

So, I'm in two minds about Henry James. I want to read more from him to see if he's truly a favorite of mine or not. To this end, I decided to try reading The American next, which is one of his earlier novels. It also fits in with my Back to the Classic challenge as my 19th century novel, making it a good choice for this month.

The plot concerns Christopher Newman, a young American who has made millions as a successful businessman in New York. As the novel begins, he is taking a break from working to enjoy spending his money on a long vacation in Europe. He is hoping to see what the wider world has to offer and to find a wife while on his trip. He easily accomplishes the first goal, touring cities, churches, and museums all over the continent. As a self-made man with little travel experience, Newman feels a bit out of his depth while exploring the treasures of the Old World. However, his easygoing and positive personality allow him to get along well wherever he goes. He enjoys his time spent touring and succeeds in learning a thing or two.

His second goal of finding the perfect wife is a bit more difficult to accomplish, but he thinks he has achieved it when an acquaintance introduces him to Claire de Cintré, a beautiful young widow from an aristocratic French family. Claire is beautiful, kind, and respectable--in short, she is exactly what Newman is looking for. He begins to court her, but immediately runs into difficulties with her family. They consider a Newman, a common businessman, to be an inappropriate match for an aristocratic woman. However, once Newman elaborates on exactly how much money he has, they relent and allow him to pursue Claire without interference. She accepts his proposal and all seems well.

Before the marriage can take place though, Claire's family backs out of their agreement and forces her to break off the engagement.  Newman  tries everything he can think of to get her back, but she is adamant that she won't go against her family's wishes. Betrayed and devastated, he ends up stumbling onto a scandalous piece of information about the family while trying to change their minds, and he must decide whether to use the information to blackmail the family into reversing their decision.

I found this book to be an absolute pleasure to read. I'm not even sure what it was about it, but I truly enjoyed myself with this one. It might have been Newman's eminently likable nature, or maybe it was  James' clever writing style. It was easy to read and flowed smoothly from beginning to end. I was interested in the story and eager to get to the conclusion and see how everything ended up. It reminded me of the kind of novels assigned in high school English classes - filled with fussy characters and historical details, but still totally accessible to readers. I had fun, and I don't always say that of older works.

The themes in The American mostly revolve around the classic clashes of old money vs. new and rigid social structures vs. more casual ways of life. Throughout the story, Newman must try to operate within the rules of a high-class society that he isn't familiar with in order to win over the woman he loves. As an American born with nothing, this world of titles, property, and soirees puzzles him. He is able to get along well enough due to his amiable nature, but the unchangeable circumstances of his background ultimately hold him back. He tries to insert himself into the world of the aristocracy, first through kindness and deference, then later through anger and blackmail, but it is nearly impossible for him to overcome the social divide between himself and his fiancée's family. His "American-ness" works against him, and it was interesting to see him try to break through this barrier.

I don't mean to say that everything in the novel was perfect. Newman is definitely a self-centered character, and his views on women leave much to be desired. You get the sense though that he is just a street smart kind of guy doing the best he can in a world utterly alien to him, so it's easy to cut him some slack. The book was set in 1868, and his beliefs aren't any worse than what would be commonplace for the time period. The ending was a bit unrealistic as well, a fact which Henry James acknowledged himself. In later years, he actually produced different versions of this text attempting to correct for this, but most consider the original version of the novel (which is the one I read) to be superior.

Despite these flaws, however, I had a great time reading The American. It's exactly the sort of classic novel that I love. It's the right time period, the right plot, and right amount of fussiness for me. I can now say that I've read two novels by Henry James that I liked. I'll most definitely be going back for more in the future. After all, I still haven't read The Portrait of a Lady, which most consider to be his masterpiece. Maybe I wasn't being too foolish when I bought up all those James novels so many years ago.

Challenge Tally:
Back to the Classics (a 19th century classic): 4/12
Classics Club (#31 on my list): 25/100

Total Books Read in 2018:13

The Ways of White Folks by Langston Hughes

In honor of Black History Month this year, I decided to read a work by an African American author. I had several options to choose from on my Classics Club list, but I eventually settled on The Ways of White Folks by Langston Hughes. Prior to reading this, I was only familiar with Hughes' poetry. I don't read much poetry in general, but my work as a teacher has brought me into contact with several of his most famous works. Hughes' poems, without a doubt, are beautiful and thought-provoking. I was interested to see how this collection of short stories would compare.

The Ways of White Folks contains fourteen short stories, each exploring different interactions between white people and African Americans in the 1920s and 30s. These interactions run the gamut of human emotions. Some of the stories are humorous, showing white people that fetishize black culture and fail to understand how their fascination with all things African is ironic and silly. Other stories are tragic, showing the naked racism and violence that white people regularly employed to terrorize the black community. Many of the stories fall somewhere in the middle of those extremes, showing the awkwardness, unfairness, and hypocrisy that inevitably arise between two groups on opposite sides of an unequal society. All of the stories, no matter their tone, invite readers to pause and think about how strange and cruel life can be. Hughes is an excellent storyteller, and his keen observations of human behavior feel genuine. One gets the sense that this is an important work with layers of meaning to unpack.

I enjoyed each story in the collection, but a few stand out to me. In"Passing," a young man who is able to pass as white writes a letter home to him mother. In it, he apologizes for pretending not to know her when he saw her on the street. He was with his fiancé, who thinks he is white, so he couldn't acknowledge his mother without revealing his race. He feels bad about this, but knows that if he wants to have any semblance of a nice life, he must keep up the ruse.  It's a clever bit of story construction by Hughes that in order to pass for white, he is forced to literally pass by those he loves.

In "Little Dog," a white woman who lives alone decides to adopt a dog for companionship. She relies on the black janitor in her building to bring her dog food each night. After a while, she begins to have romantic feelings for this man. Her thoughts are entirely inappropriate for more than one reason. Aside from it being unthinkable for a white woman to be with a black man in America during this time period, the janitor is happily married with a houseful of children. She becomes so disturbed by what she feels that she ends up moving away. Her sadness and confusion hit me in a personal way. As someone in an interracial marriage, the idea of pulling away from someone you like based on skin color is especially sad to me.

There are several stories more dramatic and tragic than the ones I mentioned here, but I think I like the quieter ones the best. These little moments of fear, confusion, and sadness are more like the racism I've observed in my own life, so it was easy to make a lot of connections to modern society. One only has to consider the recent rise of white supremacy groups in the United States and the comments about people of color made by our current president to find chilling examples of how the attitudes of whites haven't changed much over the years when it comes to race--they've just gotten a bit less overt. This collection provides an excellent place to start examining these attitudes, and to consider the dark legacy of racism in this country.

I haven't read very many short story collections, so I don't have much to compare The Ways of White Folks to. It is clear, however, that this novel, with all of its humor, sarcasm, violence, and tragedy, is a great work with something important to say. While I wouldn't term this an easy read, it is a quick one that will challenge readers to explore how race relations in the United States have developed over time. This was a fitting choice to celebrate Black History Month, and anyone interested in Langston Hughes would do well to pick this one up.


Challenge Tally:
Back to the Classics (a classic with a color in the title): 3/12
Classics Club (#11 on my list): 24/100

Total Books Read in 2018:9