travel + books

rij   I’ve mentioned before that I am preparing for an upcoming trip to the land of Japan – not just for a holiday, though, for a whopping seven months.  The plane tickets are booked, accommodation is sorted, the adrenaline is building and the packing is just about to commence.  Then I ask myself, if I can’t last a good two-week holiday without taking along at least five books (three of which I will never read, to be sure), what am I going to do with myself for seven months without taking so many books that I have to pay most of my savings in excess baggage weight allowances to fit in my library?

rij2

Yes, that’s right, there is a Japanese word for this.

Of course, I won’t go a kindle.  It’s too late now.  I’m a geek for hardcover and I can’t go back now.  Parents have raised the concept, and even offered to fund the concept, but I refuse.  I will do this the traditional way come hell or high water (or both).  (Sorry, tsunami jokes aren’t very tasteful, are they?)

So I’ve come to accept the fact that, as I won’t take a kindle and as I will continue to read profusely during my travels, I may have to choose only a few books to take.  Perhaps less than ten.  Perhaps only a couple more than two.  Perhaps only four.  Or three.  But what should I take?  Which writers will have their works chosen to occupy a coveted position in my suitcase?  And should I take only things that I haven’t read before or should I include an old favourite that will remind me of home and which I know will keep me occupied?  The questions never end.

Thankfully, Japan itself has inspired me to come up with a solution to this problem.  You see, Japan (and now other places abroad) is home to a chain of stores called ‘Book-off’, the concept of which is not completely new, but is performed better by the Japanese than by anyone else.  The idea is that you can buy second-hand books there (and not just books but comics and CDs and DVDs and whatever you want, really) and you can also sell them.  Thankfully they also have sections for the awkward foreigner which have English language books.

rij3Therefore, I have decided that over the course of my travels I will ‘do the Book-off thing’, as I have now phrased it.  Once I’ve run out of my from-home-books, I’ll buy something remotely interesting and thoroughly second-hand from one of the many Book-off stores that dot the countryside of Japan, read it, and then sell it again at another store.  Therefore I don’t have to carry it in my suitcase, nor do I have to worry about buying something terrible which will then loiter in my bookshelves next to all the beautiful literature I have been so painstakingly accumulating.  Problem solved!

But now the question remains: what should be included in my from-home-books list?  I’m thinking something large rather than a couple of small things.  Two books large and loved, and one large and previously unread book.  For the previously read, I simply can’t go past DeLillo’s Underworld as this was probably the most incredible book I have read for a long, long time, and definitely book-of-the-year last year.  There’s also Donna Tartt’s The Secret History, which I am currently reading and which I find very intriguing, so much so that I have to keep a pen attached to the cover so I can underline the best bits.  I actually read it while waiting in line for my lunch yesterday.  The people around probably thought me terribly rude, but I didn’t care as I was too busy stuck in the world of the Vermont summer and Ancient Greek literature.  Yes, I think those two will do.

Then, for my previously unread from-home-book, definitely something long-winded, philosophical, but classic.  A Tolstoy perhaps.  Or Dostoyevsky’s The Brothers Karamazov, which I’ve been meaning to read for a while.  I was thinking perhaps War and Peace, but then I also thought about the inherent cliches of telling somebody ‘I’m reading War and Peace’.  I promise you all I will do a post ‘On Reading War and Peace’ while I’m reading War and Peace just to enlighten you about these worries.

So if you had to go on a long trip, what would you take?  Old favourites?  New and exciting novels?  A kindle, perhaps?

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P.S. here is a picture of my Japan bookshelf.

(from left to right: lonely planet guide to Japan, Parry – ‘People Who Eat Darkness’, Mishima – ‘Death in Midsummer and Other Stories‘, Kerr – ‘Dogs and Demons, the Fall of Modern Japan’, Mitchell – ‘The Thousand Autumns of Jacob de Zoet’, Murakami – ‘Kafka on the Shore’, two dictionaries of Japanese grammar, Brown – ‘Rendezvous at Kamakura Inn’, Mitchell – ‘Number9Dream’, Mitchell – ‘Ghostwritten’, Mishima – ‘The Temple of the Golden Pavilion’, lonely planet Tokyo, Murakami – ‘Norwegian Wood’, Takami – ‘Battle Royale‘, Penguin Parallel Texts – Short Stories Japanese-English, Murakami – ‘1Q84’, Mishima – ‘The Sailor Who Fell from Grace with the Sea’)

~leo tolstoy~ anna karenina

AKRead it in: around two months

My first Tolstoy!  I’m so proud.  Of course, probably like many others, I was inspired to read this by the film that came out at the start of this year.  A lot of people are saying “oh yes, Keira Knightley, could do better, blah blah”, but really, to me that film was a masterpiece.  And it had Aaron Taylor-Johnson in it, which is is one tall, dark and very handsome reason to see it.

I also felt quite attracted to Tolstoy’s way of thinking.  I was really into simplistic living, in the sense that working hard and living only on what was needed was the way to achieve happiness.  Hence I was very interested in the portion of the book focusing on Levin, who was supposed to be a mirror for Tolstoy himself.

Anyway, so I’m not sure there’s much point detailing the plot, but I will anyway.  Just the bare bones.  Anna has a nice life with her husband, who is a very important statesman in Russia.  Then she falls in love unexpectedly with this handsome young thing, Vronsky.  Their affair shocks the nation completely and drives all three of them – husband, wife and lover – to despair.  Meanwhile, there is the story of Levin who lives in the countryside managing his land and falling hopelessly in love with young, pretty ladies named Kitty.  One story has a happy ending, the other doesn’t.  Ten points for whoever can guess which one.

So, I’m a sucker for descriptions, and Tolstoy gave it to me.  I mean, Levin farming his land during the spring, that’s bound to have a nice description or two… or twenty.  It was great.  Here’s one (not of the farming):

It was already quite dark, and in the south, where he was looking, there were no clouds.  The clouds stood on the opposite side.  From there came flashes of lightning and the roll of distant thunder.  Levin listened to the drops monotonously dripping from the lindens in the garden and looked at the familiar triangle of stars and the branching Milky Way passing through it.  At each flash of lightning, not only the Milky Way but the bright stars also disappeared, but as soon as the lightning died out they reappeared in the same places, as if thrown by some unerring hand (page 815).

And then, the other thing I love, the degradation of the human soul.  Plenty of that too.  Just look at this fantastic sentence describing Karenin (Anna’s husband):

He felt that he could not maintain himself against the general pressure of contempt and callousness that he saw clearly in the face of this assistance, and of Kornei, and of everyone without exception that he had met in those two days.  He felt that he could not divert people’s hatred from himself, because the reason for that hatred was not that he was bad (then he could have tried to be better), but that he was shamefully and repulsively unhappy.  For that … they would be merciless towards him; people would destroy him, as dogs kill a wounded dog howling with pain (page 506).

It was long, very long (800 pages), which is why it took me around two months to finish, but I did enjoy it immensely.  Like many long books, reading it was a journey, and finishing it was like being outcast from an entire world.  I missed the busy streets of Moscow and the beauty of the countryside, I missed Russia even though I’d never been there.

Read it if you: want to go to Russia, are interested in the society of the time and the way that it works, like tales of a person’s social standing being completely destroyed, are interested in reading Tolstoy.

While reading, listen to: Piano Concerto No. 2 Rachmaninoff (yes, that’s right, the whole thing, right to the end), The Golden Spinning Wheel Antonin Dvorak

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