Prehistory: The Winnowing, The Books

Due to prohibitive shipping costs and less space once I arrive in Switzerland, I can't take all my books with me.

A month ago I had one small bookcase hidden behind stacks of books and another larger bookcase dripping with even more. I donated two large boxes full of books I could think of no reason, whatsoever to own. Books that had been left at my house or on my desk. Economic

textbooks from college that survived five moves. Trashy books (like 'Twilight'...) people had bought me or loaned me before they (or I) moved away.

In a rushed moment, before I thought to much, I dropped them at a donation trailer behind Stop 'n Shop, but even that was painful. Afterwards I suffered pangs of guilt and regret.

I still have a tall bookcase full of books I 'care' about. I've limited myself to one box of "things" which will include not only books, but also DVDs, cookware and blankets. It's not the biggest box so I still need to dispose of a majority of these books.

To distract from the agony of relinquishing books I care about I decided to create a tournament of sorts. Each day I'll pit two books next to each other. One, I'll return to the shelf to fight another day, the other goes into the donation box.

If anyone is reading please feel free to object to my decision or, if you want the book I discard, just tell me. We can figure out some way to get it to you and I'll even write a note in it or something.

First Matchup

Rick Moody's "The Diviners" vs. John Wray's "The Right Hand of Sleep"

The Diviners

I bought this book because my local bookstore, Newtonville Books, scheduled a reading with Moody. I had never read anything by him, barely heard of him, but wanted to attend the reading and figured I needed something for him to sign.

For those unfamiliar with Moody he, I guess, is best known as the author of The Ice Storm, made into a movie by Ang Lee and for this notorious takedown of Moody's memoir by Dale Peck.

His writing is self-important, but not bad. The opening of The Diviners follows the journey of light, which might sound lame, but Moody's writing makes it work. Supposedly the last chapter serves as Moody's revenge on Peck (for the review mentioned above) which is all interesting if a bit petty. Overall, however, the interweaving plot line fail to go anywhere or say anything. I finished the book wondering why I had read it.

It is signed with Moody's looping, whole-page signature. He actually ripped the page while he was signing and wrote a confession for the rip on the page.

The Right Hand of Sleep

Few people have heard of John Wray and if they have, it's for his most recent book, Lowboy, which his publisher actually promoted.

Sleep is his first book that he supposedly wrote while living in a box in an abandoned warehouse in Brooklyn. I'm wary of such book 'myths' and even more wary of writing that emerges from Brooklyn these days (Lethem what happened to you? Spending too much time with Foer?), but this book is amazing. From start to finish the prose is simply beautiful.

It's set in Austria during the rise of Nazism and the rumblings of World War II. If you're at all like me such a description equals greatest generation snooze-fest but Wray, whose mother is Austrian, somehow sheds a new (modern?) light on a beaten to death topic.

There are certain passages I read, or even copy out sometimes, to jumpstart my own meager writing.

Back on the Shelf: The Right Hand of Sleep

Of course, if you really want the book I want to keep make your case and I'll think about it.