BOOKS I FUCKING LOVE

The Dying Earth, by Jack Vance.  A series of interconnected stories set in Earth’s far future.  Although the stories are nominally science-fiction, they read like fantasy.  The events are set so far into the future, than the inhabitants of the world perceive science as magic.  Vance wrote these while at sea, serving as a merchant marine.  He developed a singular voice that is uniquely his own.   In subsequent years, Vance returned to the Dying Earth for a series of other adventures, some involving a memorable rogue called Cugel the Clever.  The adventures are beautiful, funny, and off-handedly horrifying.  Vance is a true “writer’s writer”.  Although he never reached the kind of acclaim that Asimov or Heinlein did, he ranks as one of my favorite writers of all time.  See the links section for a group of people so dedicated to Vance that the self-published a 44-volume set of his “integral” work.

The Book of the New Sun, by Gene Wolfe.  This is my favorite science-fiction novel.  But to simply call it sci-fi kind of denigrates it.  I would go so far as to say this is one of the best pieces of modern fiction written in ANY genre.  It was influenced by Vance’s Dying Earth books, clearly — as the action takes place on Urth, in the far, far future, when our sun is all but depleted.  Like the Dying Earth, the age of technology has collapsed and humanity now exists in an almost medieval state.  But there are remnants of the old technology, which the locals perceive as magic.

Having said that, the book is far more than a Dying Earth homage.  It is an epic novel that, at first, seems very picaresque — but turns out to be a densely plotted work of genius.  At first glance, it’s a classic bildungsroman.  The protagonist is a young man named Severian, who is an apprentice in the Torturer’s Guild.  He commits the worse sin imaginable — taking mercy on one of the Citadel’s charges and is forced into exile.  From that point, Severian explores the bizarre reaches of Urth, a haunting, mirror-like vision of our own world.  Eventually, Severian finds himself elevated to Urth’s ruler and Christ-like savior, but…

…even this summary hardly does the book justice.  I have read this book four or five times now, and every reading uncovers more treasures and deeper meanings.  There are paradoxes within paradoxes and many riddles embedded in the text.  For starters, I realized that Severian’s childhood home — known as the city of Nessus, is actually Buenos Aires.  Upon closer reading, you realize that countless other mind-fucks abound in the story.  Just consider the real identities of Dorcas and Father Inire.  (Once you read the book, your jaw will drop open.)

The New Sun has spawned a variety of scholarly texts concerning its deeper meanings — like Andre-Druissi’s Lexicon Urthus and Borski’s Solar Labyrinth.  It wasn’t until I read both of those analyses, then went back and re-read The Book of the New Sun, that I fully began to grasp what an incredible accomplishment Wolfe managed to pull off.  Wolfe has written many other novels — most of them wonderful.  But none have ever come close to this masterpiece.  If I were condemned to life in prison and could only take one book, it would be this one.   If you want to further whet your appetite, just Wikipedia the book and prepare to go down a rabbit hole.

Having said that, the book is far more than a Dying Earth homage.  It is an epic novel that, at first, seems very picaresque — but turns out to be a densely plotted work of genius.  At first glance, it’s a classic bildungsroman.  The protagonist is a young man named Severian, who is an apprentice in the Torturer’s Guild.  He commits the worse sin imaginable — taking mercy on one of the Citadel’s charges and is forced into exile.  From that point, Severian explores the bizarre reaches of Urth, a haunting, mirror-like vision of our own world.  Eventually, Severian finds himself elevated to Urth’s ruler and Christ-like savior, but…

FUP, by Jim Dodge.  My wife found this book in a second-hand store, fell in love with it, and gave it to me when we first started dating.  It is long out of print and a treasure.  A slim, delicate volume, almost magical-realism, about an old man who is befriended by a duck.  Sounds stupid, I know.  But so fucking beautiful that it made me cry.  If you can track down a copy, you will be rewarded.

The Last Good Kiss, by James Crumley.  The best Western/hardboiled book ever written.  Montana-noir.  Epic tough-guy prose.  Dark as fuck.  C.W. Sughrue is my favorite, alcoholic P.I. character, bar none.  What Chinatown did for screen-noir, this does for the novelistic medium.  Many people say this is the best detective novel ever written.  I think I agree with them.  Love his words:  “drinking the heart right out of a fine spring afternoon.”

A Short History of Nearly Everything, by Bill Bryson.  Bryson has a very accessible, style that I envy.  His books are hugely entertaining and very readable.  It took an enormous amount of confidence to attempt subject matter so vast — but that’s just what Bryson has done with this book.  Very successfully.  I learned more amazing facts about the world and its history in this book than, well, practically all of my high-school education.  Aside from making history engaging — he also manages to make it funny.  The book is full of amusing little anecdotes.  My particular favorites involve Isaac Newton, who sounds like a flat-out weirdo.  Bryson covers things like the Big Bang, gravity, particle physics, how life developed on Earth.  At first glance, you might think your eyes would glaze over.  But I’ve given out more copies of this book over the last few years than any other.  It is an utter delight.  To quote Bryson himself on the subject of scientific texts:

“It was as if [the textbook writer] wanted to keep the good stuff secret by making all of it soberly unfathomable.”
—Bryson, on the state of science books used within his school.

For the Time Being, by Annie Dillard.  A small, narrative nonfiction meditation on seemingly disparate subjects like China, how sand is created and dispersed, the nature of clouds, Israel, the nature of evil… and other subjects.  Dillard poetically weaves together all of these elements into a single, and incredibly profound treatise about life, death, and our fleeting moments here on Earth.

Ficciones, by Jorge Luis Borges.  Borges was an Argentine short-story writer who worked primarily in the 40s, 50s, and 60s.  By and large, his stories are quite short, but very dense.  They have an otherworldly, dreamlike — almost narcotic quality.  Very existentialist.  Chris Nolan and I bonded early on via our shared admiration for Borges and there are definite influences in Inception as well as my upcoming show, Da Vinci’s Demons.  Ficciones is probably his most well-known and comprehensive collection, but there are many and all of them contain gems.  Some of his most famous and influential stories include:  The Garden of Forking PathsThe Library of Babel, and Death and the Compass.  Among his other stories, I also love The ImmortalThe ZahirThe Mirror and The MaskThe Disc, and The Book of Sand.  His stories are filled with paradoxes and have a recursive aspect to them.  When you read them, you feel like you are falling down a rabbit hole, into an Escher-like world.  He went blind at a fairly young age — a kind of tragedy which, oddly enough, seemed to fit him.  As he once commented, God ironically granted him “books and blindness at one touch.”

A Good Man Is Hard To Find, by Flannery O’ Connor.  The title of my favorite short-story and also a collection of O’Connor’s best work.  O’Connor was one of the best Southern Gothic writers.  The titular short-story starts out very funny, but slowly veers into sheer horror.  Pretty well-known.  But if you’ve never read it — you will be fucking floored by the end.  Another gem in the collection is The Life You Save May Be Your Own.  O’Connor wrote about race, poverty, violence — and rural life.  Her characters burst from the pages and she has spawned scores of imitators.  O’Connor uses a lot of foreshadowing — you always have the sense that something ominous is about to happen on the next page — and it usually does.

The Moviegoer, by Walker Percy.  As indicated above, I’m a sucker for Southern fiction.  This is another existentialist work, but extremely poetic and very touching.  If you’ve ever felt misunderstood or dislocated, this book is for you.  I tend towards darker fiction — but the ending of this novel always makes me smile and want to celebrate life.  It’s also deeply romantic.  Percy’s father committed suicide, so he had his own, existential issues to grapple with.  One assumes this novel was an attempt to reconcile his feelings about that event.  Some people liken it to an American version of Camus’ The Stranger — but I find it much more readable and humanistic than that other “classic”.  It’s impossible not to read this book and reflect more deeply on your own experiences.

Codex Seraphinianus, by Luigi Serafini.  How the fuck do I describe this book?  Some people call it the world’s weirdest book.  It seems like one of the books you would read about in a Borges story — except that it actually exists.  I was first introduced to this book by Alex Proyas, back when we were writing Dark City together.  At the time, there were very few editions of it in existence and it took me a good 3 or 4 years to hunt one down through a specialty bookseller.  Since then, I found a few more copies.  I gave one to Guillermo del Toro and another to my friend and Walking Dead scribe, Scott Gimple.  The Codex is basically a densely illustrated encyclopedia for a world that doesn’t exist, featuring beautiful, colored-pencil drawings of bizarre plants, animals, and people practicing strange customs.  Oh, and it comes complete with various text entries that are written in a language that also doesn’t exist – one that Serafini completely made up and has defied linguistic analysis.  It’s definitely surreal.  Clearly, it was modeled after a legendary book known as the Voynich Manuscript.  Recently, Rizzoli issued a new edition — and while still quite expensive, at least this edition is somewhat more affordable.  If you are a bibliophile like me, this book is a must.

Pelicula

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