Tree of Smoke

While Dennis Johnson's novel about Vietnam is my least favorite of his works that I've read so far (though that's just Jesus' Son and Already Dead) it was still compellingly written and kinda interesting.  Halfway through I realized that while I've seen many films about Vietnam, I can't recall reading another novel set there.  The benefits of dealing with the subject in a novel are obvious -- there are lots more unrelated characters here, spread out over a much longer time span, and hence encompassing more dimensions of the sprawling mess that gave birth to the Boomers.  As one might expect though, the message ends up being rather similar to everything else we've heard about Vietnam.  That war destroyed the American soul in a unique way.  Every trip to Vietnam was a trip into the heart of darkness.  

The Buddha Before Buddhism

Having read a little bit about the subject of "early Buddhism" (mostly from Leigh Brasington) I've long wanted to read Gil Fronsdal's translation of "The Book of Eights".  This short collection may be the oldest stuff in the Pali Cannon, and hence the closest to what the Buddha himself taught in his lifetime.  While Fronsdal's introduction and afterword review the multiple strands of evidence for this chronological position, it remains speculative.  And he suggests that, in the end, it may not be all that important.  What's clear is that this text is different in both tone and teaching from the other parts of the Pali Cannon that I've encountered.  For one, it's all in short verses, instead of long stories (though there is still a question posed to the Buddha that frames many of the chapters).  Perhaps because of this, it relies much more on paradox and aporia than other suttas.  The teaching is mostly about what not to do -- chase after sex, hold onto and quarrel over particular views -- and not about the traditional Buddhist lists of characteristics and factors.  

While I've found those lists incredibly helpful devices, it's refreshing to find the message here pared down to what I take to be its essence -- don't hold onto anything, even Buddhist doctrine.  Holding fast to any belief will eventually cause us to suffer; the path to peace and freedom lies in moving through life without needing these supports.  In short, the message is very Mahayana, and if these poems indeed represent the undiluted and uncodified teachings of the master, then it's much easier to understand why Nagarjuna felt the need to renew the tradition beyond all the Theravadan apparatus.  This is not to suggest that anything here contradicts the Theravadan interpretation.  In fact, we get pretty clear statements of dependent origination and not-self and the noble truths.  But we hear these doctrines before they have been formalized, at a point where they feel less like truths to be taught and memorized than experiences to be encountered along the road to peace.  

James

I'm likely the last human alive to read Percival Everett's re-writing of Twain's masterpiece.  Fortunately, everything I heard about it is true.  The novel is smart, funny, deep, and just plain great entertainment, regardless of whether you remember the original very well or not.  

Part one of the novel (roughly 2/3rds) is roughly what I would have expected upon hearing the premise.  It sticks relatively closely to Twain's plot, but tells the same story from Jim's perspective.  It's a clever enough trope, but the real delight is in Everett's masterful execution of it.  Here, Jim is not only human being from the outset (something he can only grow into in Twain's telling) but he's sardonically literate to the point of being erudite.  Twain's thick negro dialect is recast as a put-on invented by slaves to keep white people imaging they're simple fools.  The titular 'adventures' of Huckleberry Finn that occupy the bulk of Twain's lazily floating novel are immediately converted into the terrors of Escaped-slave Jim, who now finally gets to tell his own story, rather than being forced to entrust it to a well meaning white man.  

I won't spoil parts 2 and 3 by giving away Everett's twist, except to say that his ending has all the power of Twain's, and is a good deal less open to misinterpretation. Go read it.