John’s Comments (group member since Jan 01, 2024)

John’s comments from the Appendix N group.

Does reading an abridged version of a book still count as reading the book?

We've all encountered those hefty classics with pages that seem to multiply when we're not looking. The question is, can we claim to have conquered the literary Everest if we've taken the shortcut of an abridged edition?

Now, there's a certain charm to reading a book in its unadulterated form. The purists among us argue that every word, every sentence, is a carefully crafted piece of the author's vision. Abridging, they say, is like viewing a masterpiece through a foggy window—it obscures the details and dilutes the essence. The richness of language, the subtle nuances, and the intricate plot developments may be casualties of the abridgment process.
For those who relish the complete literary experience, the thought of missing out on any part of the original work is sacrilege.

On the flip side, let's consider the pragmatists who advocate for the benefits of abridged versions. Not everyone has the luxury of time (or patience) to read War and Peace or Anna Karenina. Life's demands sometimes make it challenging to dedicate weeks to a single tome.

Abridged editions provide a bridge for those who want a taste of the story but may not be ready for the full banquet. It opens the door for readers who might otherwise shy away from dense classics, making literature more accessible to a broader audience.

So, is reading an abridged version a shortcut or a sensible compromise for the time-strapped bibliophile?

Don't even get me started on whether of not listening to an audio-book counts as "reading."

What do you think?

I just finished The Invisible Man by H.G. Wells and am in the middle of Robinson Crusoe by Daniel Defoe. After that, I am looking at The Once and Future King by T.H. White.

I am currently reading the The Complete Fiction of H.P. Lovecraft (2016, Link) and am intrigued by how frequently Lovecraft relies on the reader to fill in some of the blanks when it comes to how monsters, creatures, or other horrors might look.

He spends a lot of time building a narrative on how unspeakable something is or how horrible it is, or how otherworldly, but with few exceptions, the way his eldritch horrors appear are completely up to us.

From Dagon "Perhaps I should not hope to convey in mere words the unutterable hideousness that can dwell in absolute silence and barren immensity."

From Beyond the Wall of Sleep "...and checked only by a deadly enemy, who seemed to be a being of visible, yet ethereal structure, and and who did not appear to be of human shape, since Slater never referred to it as a man, or as aught save a thing."

From The Statement of Randolph Carter "I do not try, gentlemen, to account for that thing - that voice - nor can I venture to describe it in detail... Shall I say that the voice was deep; hollow; gelatinous; remote; unearthly; inhuman; disembodied?"

I suppose this is partially the point, right? If Lovecraft described an alien god with precise language, it might not seem as horrible, or we might not agree with his description of what makes a thing fearsome, awesome or unbearable to contemplate.

I wanted to take a moment to address a topic that has become increasingly relevant in our literary explorations— the complexities surrounding the personal beliefs and actions of authors.

It's no secret that many writers from the sci-fi and fantasy genres, both past and present, held views or engaged in actions that may be considered unsavory by today's standards. As we approach our discussion, I encourage us to engage in a thoughtful conversation about separating the art from the artist and appreciating the literary work for what it is.

There are many examples of captivating literature that has sparked our imaginations and provided us with a platform for engaging discussions. The imaginative world-building, intricate plots, and thought-provoking themes are aspects of these books that we can critically examine and appreciate as readers. However, it's important to acknowledge the potential dissonance between the brilliance of the work and the questionable beliefs or actions of its creator.

In our discussion, let's strive to maintain an open-minded and respectful atmosphere. We can explore how the author's personal views may have influenced the narrative, characters, or world-building, but also emphasize the autonomy of the literary work itself. By doing so, we can learn to appreciate the value of the art without necessarily endorsing the views of the artist.

It's essential to recognize that each reader brings their own perspectives, values, and sensitivities to the table. Our book club is a space for diverse voices and opinions, and it's through these conversations that we can gain a deeper understanding of both the literature and the world around us.

I encourage everyone to share their thoughts on how they approach the connection (or lack thereof) between the author and the work. Do you find it challenging to separate the two, or are you able to appreciate the literary merits independently? Let's engage in a constructive dialogue that allows us to explore these nuances and foster a greater appreciation for the diverse range of voices within our chosen genre.