Parrot and Olivier or Why Top 10 Lists Stink

I've abandoned a book. That alone isn't terribly unusual--I ditch bad books all the time--but I was really trying this time. I ended 2010 ashamed by my new reading habits (or lack thereof) and worried that I was no longer capable of reading "difficult" books. I thought that embracing harder books would be an easy New Year's resolution. But like most resolutions made in hopeful and possibly inebriated states, this one has fallen by the wayside in the first few weeks of the first month of a new year.

Parrot and Olivier in America is a "comic" retelling of Alexis de Tocqueville's visit in 1831 to write his famous Democracy in America. Okay, I'll admit, that's not the most promising selling point to the general reading public, but it would certainly be meaty. And it was a finalist for the National Book Award! And by Peter Carey! two-time winner of the Booker Prize (although, that in and of itself should have set off warning bells--those are almost always weird and difficult and/or depressing books).

The titular Olivier is a French aristocrat post-revolution, at loose ends in a country that is still hiccuping its way toward some kind of democracy. Parrot is an English journeyman's son, trained as an engraver and naturally a mimic of languages and accents. Both are in trouble with the law or family and are brought together by a mysterious one-armed Marquis who sends them to America, bound together by fate and, as it turns out, fortune. One cannot act without the other and yet they dislike one another. Oooh, an old-fashioned buddy movie.

Or not.

I don't mind the two voices--clearly announced by helpful chapter headings, but I do mind very much that both characters saw fit to occasionally refer to themselves in the third person. Oh, thanks very much, Peter Carey. I quite liked Parrot's sections, most of the time, but the story just seemed unnecessarily difficult to follow and to read. Not the basic plot--I got that--but the writing was complicated. At first I thought Carey was doing that on purpose for Olivier's character (he is, after all, a well-educated French aristocrat), but ALL the characters were like this. Here's an example of a section that I had to read more than once: Compared to my own cramped malodorous accommodation, the deserted main cabin was a site of healthfulness, smelling of nothing worse than salt and tar. It was here I was seated when I felt the swell preceding the first big wave, that long dreadful quiver running through the timbers of the ship, not stilled or contained by the copper sheathing of its hull but rather amplified so that a deadly vibration ran through every human bone aboard the Havre, and when that shiver had been doused, snuffed, drowned, and the little barque had tumbled off the edge, then I felt the first big wave break and I saw the great wash of beef and brandy erupt from the dreadful Parrot's gorge, and as the entire craft was hurled like a lobster into a kettle, I was very pleased to note that I was not afraid.
Ugh.They're on a ship and Parrot throws up. It's all like this. It's exhausting to read, though I understand some feel their pulse quicken to such lyrical description and can think of nothing better than to curl up with just such a book. Well, have at it, but it turns out that it's not for me.

I persisted for awhile still because that was my resolution: to not abandon difficult books just because they were "hard to read" but then I realized I wasn't having any fun and really, what's the point of reading if you're not having fun and don't want to pick up the book. I made an effort and now I guess I'll have to admit that I just need to read formulaic and/or YA novels for the rest of my life. Maybe just movie adaptations.

Which brings me--sort of--to top 10 lists.
I didn't make one for 2010, though it's in my head. I did read a lot of lists, though, and found that I didn't want to read any of the books on them. Jonathan Franzen was on all of them, but I just don't like him or his writing. I don't care how brilliant some of it may (or may not) be, it's too didactic in places and I'm not a big fan of dysfunction. I never really understood Strong Motion (which is the only one of his books I've read--years ago-- and no one has read that, and, no, I don't recommend it). Parrot and Olivier was also on most, if not all, of these lists and well, obviously, that didn't work out either.

The fact is, I get to make a list of books from only those I chose to read in the first place, whereas a lot of writers and magazine and newspaper staff make lists of books they had to read. For work. Uh, well, yeah, I could do that and it would be a very short list of books I had to read with kids who struggle to read. Just think how constrained that would be.

Next up for me? True Grit. Oh wait, that hasn't been on any lists, has it?