Posts tagged ‘The Shack’

December 31, 2014

As the dead year is clasped by a dead December

by ada

And the four* last books of 2014, all of which I enjoyed extremely. And, as we all know, that’s the only thing that matters.

In 2014 I read 53 books; 27 of them in Hungarian, 16 in German and 10 in English. The one I liked the best was Walter M. Miller Jr.’s Lobgesang auf Leibowitz (A Canticle for Leibowitz). The one that has filled me with rage against all things religion was Die Hütte (The Shack) by William Paul Young.

* plus the bonus book on the top of the pile, about baggers and stuff, courtesy of Milo

December readings

Unlike my whole life the past years, I have now an exact plan for 2015 regarding reading. These are the books I was keeping separate since years but somehow I’ve just never got to them. But now! I am determined to Read All The Things! Plus the additional mysteries and detective novels, haha.

2015 plans

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June 29, 2014

for the nights are short in June

by ada

For the very busy June I had, I consider four books as an extraordinary accomplishment. Let’s talk about them, because that’s something I’ve never done on this blog before.*

Ambrose Bierce: Lügengeschichten – a collection of short stories. I’ve read Bierce before but his seaman stories were new to me. I liked them.

William Paul Young: Die Hütte (The Shack) – Okaaay… So this book is the reason I’m actually writing this entry. It was recommended to me by a German female protestant prison pastor, five years ago***, in Taizé. I was armed prepared to like it. I wanted to like it. I really did. But I can’t help myself. I so hated this book I can’t even express my feelings about it properly. Because this book is just so. bad. Cheesy theology. Bad writing. Too much unnecessary emotions. Clichés with clichés all over the place. I mean, God as a big, good-natured black woman that sings religious songs? Jesus as a – surprise! – Jew with a – surprise!! – big nose? Is it just me or does this really hurt? Anyway. It is a bad, bad book and/or I’m a bad, bad person. I don’t want to talk about it anymore.

Arthur Schnitzler: Casanova hazatér (Casanova’s return to Venice) – I have a heart for everything (everybody) miserable, for broken things and for people who failed at life. Poor old Casanova, he was such a rat.

Pier Paolo Pasolini: Amado mio/Tisztátalan cselekedetek (Amado mio/Atti impuri) – The biggest part of this book I read while waiting at the dental emergency clinic, between 10 pm and 1 am. It definitely did not make those stressful hours of waiting for the inevitable pain any sweeter. Maybe I’m incorrectly influenced by the fact that I’ve never been a teenage boy with homoerotic feelings towards other, preteen boys, but I found the paedophilic aspects of this book deeply disturbing.

* I once had a literary blog to keep track of my readings (remember, those were times when I read 150 books a year. Now I’m proud if I get to 30). It had exactly two and a half followers and went down together with my Hungarian blog provider two years ago**

** never trust a Hungarian blog provider. Never trust anything Hungarian. Our biggest pride is still in our endless suffering about things that happened a thousand years ago

*** yes, that’s really the speed I’m accomplishing things with. I need five years to get to a book. You don’t want to know how late I’m with movies. Clue: I still haven’t seen Harry Potter 2 yet.

June readings

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