Book #18: Walk On: The Spiritual Journey of U2

I knew I wouldn't be able to avoid including a U2 book on this list, as I've got a shelf's worth of U2-related literature in my room. This selection was more out of curiosity than anything. As an unauthorized quasi-autobiography of the band, I should have taken caution before reading. However, I figured I'd give it a shot; I have no regrets.

Author Steve Stockman takes a look at the progression of the band from early days until circa 2001 (pre-9/11, which is important for a couple of reasons which I will explain shortly), and more specifically, their blatant lack of representation from any particular denomination. Early on, U2 were involved in a religious group; indeed, their second album, "October", is packed with quite religious sentiment (which doesn't even include "40", based on Psalm 40 in the Bible, or really any number of other spiritual references). While Stockman doesn't have any access to the band, his work is filled with quotes from magazine exposes and articles, as well as thoughtful analysis of U2's catalog of lyrics.

The spirituality of course isn't without some sort of controversy, namely the contention that rock stars would dare to make bold, religious statements. It is unfortunate that organized religions have 1) worked to claim U2 as their own, 2) disowned them after being spurned, and 3) ignored the questions that the band has asked in their work. The questions of spirituality and existentialism are found all over the band's collective work, and I feel as though it is these questions which endear U2 to many fans, myself included.

The band has claimed in the past that faith is not the same as religion, a sentiment that can make the idea of God much more accessible and pragmatic; adhering to His word is much more basic than following the rules of religion, which are often self-serving. In fact, the pushback from religions wanting to have an up-and-coming (and later, a well-established) musical act serving as mouthpieces for their intended work. However, the band's progression taught them to speak for themselves only, rather than represent something they may not entirely agree with.

Even so, the questioning and establishment of a relationship with God enables U2 to connect with people who have those same questions, without alienating those who do not. There's a similarity between love and faith, and so songs like "With or Without You" can be perceived as both a love song and a song representing a crisis of faith. It is in that flexibility that the broad appeal of the band gets its legs; a song that means something to one person can have drastically different significance to someone else.

The use of 2000's "All That You Can't Leave Behind" is minimal, as the book was sent to review and publication shortly thereafter. However, as the events of 9-11 unfolded, the search for answers to heavy questions (most notably, "Why?") and understanding really lent itself to the tracks found within the album. As a group whose heart had been worn on its collective sleeve for years, U2's ability to identify indirectly with those in mourning was brought into the light. If able, try to imagine "Walk On" in a pre- versus post-9/11 context. Ultimately, it's the latter that tugs at you more. The words- and the song by association- means more. Even "New York" takes on a personality that is proud of its identity and united in its assertion that it is a great place, indeed. And when in a position to question or curse someone, hasn't anger been directed above? It is in this vein that U2 takes on deeper meaning, and has all along.

I enjoyed the book quite a bit. While it didn't give much to me in terms of new information about the band or its prior work, it did connect the religious/spiritual implications and connections, as well as shed some light on the issues that the band has had with institutions of faith. As is the case with most matters of religion- to my mind at least- taking full credit for something on behalf of a higher institution or power an be prickly; I'd rather let each user/reader/listener use their own discretion, and let it take on whatever meaning they see fit. After all, personal relationships are more rewarding when they are personal, rather than uniform.

Book #17: The Great Gatsby

F. Scott Fitzgerald's "The Great Gatsby"

Fitzgerald's classic 1925 novel brings back memories of high school English classes, for better and worse. Really, the only downside to reading such a book in class was the focus on what became maybe the most lingering example of symbolism I can remember: the watchful eyes on the side of the garage of George Wilson. It is ultimately these sorts of inane details that bored me in an English classroom that was almost never actually boring. Far more interesting, in my mind, was the explanation of the wistfulness that enhances- and at the same time curses- the human condition. Before I pontificate, the quick synopsis of another book I read on the Asia trip...

Nick Carraway, the story's narrator, moves to Long Island in an attempt to make it in the bond market of New York. His cousin- Daisy Buchanan- helps to incorporate him into the local social scene, though it is ultimately a rager at his neighbor's mansion that draws his attention. His mysterious neighbor (Gatsby) spends time throwing these lavish parties despite not taking part in them. As we come to learn, this is done as a means of conveying to Daisy that he is a successful, rich man who is capable of taking care of her. Meanwhile, Tom's affair with Myrtle Wilson appears to be common knowledge, though nothing is really done about it, since security goes a long way in the matter of substituting for happiness. As things come into the open, the true sorrow of the book is exposed. If for whatever reason you haven't read The Great Gatsby, stop reading this and pick it up. A spoiler alert is coming, and I wouldn't want to ruin this great piece of work for anyone.


Alright? Good. Now, the tragedy of Gatsby is that.......................................

SPOILER ALERT





..........................he is left as defeated as any man has ever been before he meets his demise. Gatsby- like anyone who has ever felt the feeling- is driven by love, and in the course of that pursuit, of course he engages in less-than-reputable things (bootlegging, in this case, and associating with disreputable characters). The saddest- and most identifiable- part of all of this is that, for those of us who have ever been there, been on the short end of unrequited love, the rest of what you do can seem hollow. The notion that Gatsby would not take part in the downright epic revelry that becomes associated with his parties seems mystifying, but is explained soon enough over the course of the story.

See, Gatsby's love for Daisy Buchanan had started long before her current marriage to her husband, Tom. Over the course of a war and time apart, however, things change. The pursuit to rebuild something that has faded (rather than been broken. Big difference...) is ultimately fruitless, as the comfort of the known and the security that it provides causes Daisy to ultimately stay with Tom. It is THIS concept- not symbolism- that is the most striking aspect of what is ultimately a very enjoyable read, worthy of study and mandated reading, if with just a twist.

Book #16: On the Road

Jack Kerouac's "On the Road"

In the final days of my time in Chile, I was granted access to the bookshelf of a good friend, Aashish, whose own stint in South America was winding down. He gave me Jack Kerouac's "On the Road", which I had been eager to read, as both a travel enthusiast and as a young man whose life bears little semblance to a certain direction. Over the course of time, the book became lost (and found again), and so it wasn't until my trip to Asia in the spring that I took the time to get through it. I must say I was disappointed. Now whether this is a result of not caring for the book or recognizing the haphazard nature in my own life within the pages of the story is unclear. In any event, I felt as though neither Sal Paradise nor Dean Moriarty were very much likable (in fact, Dean comes off in my mind as barely tolerable).

"On the Road" focuses on Sal's trips across the post-WWII United States. A large amount of "stuff" happens within the larger search for whatever life has to offer. It is in THIS regard that the book hit close to home. I like to think, however, that my life has a little more aim than the group of reckless people in the story. In any event, the story comes in a series of parts, each of which starts with Sal Paradise (the main character, based on Kerouac himself) and his restlessness with where his life has taken him. He's as uncertain as the day is long, but longs for something else; certainly this is the height of personalization. And so starts the disembarkation across the great American terrain. This is before Eisenhower's Interstate System, mind you, and so the landscape carries much more flavor and personality than the endless fields and landscapes.

The more I think about it, the more I feel as though my own "itch" to explore the unexplored on a whim SHOULD have me enjoying this story more. And yet, I don't. It all seems very haphazard and ultimately, the ending made me even angrier, as it just ends. Hear me out: the ending is sort of a wistful look back at all that's gone on and seems to end on a shaking head, like, "I can't believe all of the shit we got up to." The problem is Sal never explains what he's done since. The idea of doing all that they got up to and having nothing to show for it infuriated me. I love to travel. I've done extensive time abroad, and have something to show for it....or will.... or propose to. I plan on teaching for my career. Whether I do that here or abroad, it is the driving force behind the majority of my travels. I want to be well-versed, informed, connected to something bigger. THAT is what bothers me about the characters in this book, and ultimately, the book itself. It's not that they lack direction. It's that they don't profess to want a direction. Had Kerouac simply said "I did it because it was there", it wouldn't be as bad because, really, some things have to happen for that reason. But there's none of that. It's as though he splattered out everything he wanted to say and said "okay, you make sense of this." Shirker.

In any event, there are some gems of quotes in the story, and there are endearing moments that hit quite close to home, as I had previously stated. Overall, however, "On the Road" left me a little cold. Oh well. I suppose sometimes you do (and read) things just because they're there, and just to say you did/read them.

Book #15: Cat's Cradle by Kurt Vonnegut

Kurt Vonnegut's "Cat's Cradle"

On the trip to Asia, travel was fast and furious. Hours of waiting in airports and on planes themselves meant there had to be something to do other than sleep. I had tucked 6 or 7 paperbacks into my backpack, in addition to the kindle lent to me by my cousin Kristine. By the last couple of days of the tour, however, I had plowed through all of them, and so I borrowed one of my buddy Dan's books. Dan is a relentless reader whose bookshelf I not-so-secretly envy. In any case, he gave me "Cat's Cradle", assuring me that it was a quick- albeit strange- read.

It was my first venture into the literature of Vonnegut, and while I was entertained and certainly amused by his writing, I can't say I was altogether very stricken by any feeling that Vonnegut had cracked the code with regards to any otherworldly insight. The story- following the narrator's journey to follow a lead to aid him in writing a book. He goes to a fictional island in the Caribbean, and encounters a variety of slightly-off characters as his life is taken by strange storm, all in pursuit of a lead.

Vonnegut deserves credit for incorporating so many big ideas into this tale of twists and turns (like, of course, a game of cat's cradle). Whether it's religion (Bokononism, a cynic's response to Shintoism) and the denouncement of other religions throughout history; science (ice-nine plays a prominent role in the climactic action of the story) and its ability to spiral beyond control of those who experiment with the "unnatural"; or politics (the dictatorship of the fictional San Lorenzo eventually is bestowed upon John, the narrator) and its fickle nature, particularly given the often-shaky premise upon which a political structure is built. Through an absurd lens, the author makes his mark in a sardonic sort of way with regards to weighty issues. It is Vonnegut's strong writing (it really is an effortless read, if strange) that gives this story its wings.

I am very much interested in reading more from the man, as he came and continues to come highly recommended. All in all, Cat's Cradle ranks somewhere in the middle of the pack among books I've read for this list so far.