What I’m Reading: The Book Edition
Classic Storytelling in Collected Poe & Modern Storytelling in Undocumented
In the first issue of my book edition reading recommendations, I have a bundle of classic words in an 800-pager called “Complete Stories and Poems of Edgar Allan Poe,” a book that’s been patiently waiting on my attention ever since I read a few selected works for two university seminars years ago.
I pair this example of classic storytelling with a modern counterpart: John Moore’s “Undocumented.”
Both bring their audience a healthy dose of drama — in their own way.
Both I’d happily recommend. Read on for more observations and thoughts from my reading experiences.
Poe: The Master of the Fantastic, the Mysterious, the Adventurous
A confession up front: I have yet to finish the collected Poe stories. It’s a good-old tome. 800 pages of hardcover goodness. Small print. Mot much in the way of margins to make it easier on the eyes.
I go through it one story at a time, except for the train ride from Prague to Essen, where I managed more than 50 pages, despite the side-business of photography along the way.
Time constraints have also made it difficult to set aside quality time (for a true appreciation of the writing). I’d rather make slow, quality progress than speed-read through it and miss half the education on writing and storytelling Poe offers any writer — contemporary for the author or us.
Still, rather than waiting till I’ve finished, I wanted to write about the book now. Including every single story in such a piece wouldn’t make sense anyway.
So, today, I’ll mention a few observations about the good and the more challenging material I’ve crossed paths with so far. That should hopefully awaken the bookworm in you enough to consider giving Poe a try (or a second look) yourself.
Let’s begin with the Poe challenges. The story “William Wilson” is an illustrative example.
When, shortly after plowing through this doppelgänger-themed short, the German crime show “Tatort” (Crime Scene) opened an episode (where the doppelgänger motif played a role and the lead character is known for some creative storytelling) with a subtle reference to William Wilson, I anticipated a complicated and confusing mess of a story in the 90-minutes ahead.
It wasn’t that bad. And neither was William Wilson. I was still, however, confused about the latter. Asking myself what the heck this was, what I was supposed to do with it.
The storyline is quickly told. A character who goes by the name William Wilson, after a somewhat long introductory monologue that sets the stage for the story (a staple technique of Poe’s, by the way), tells of his childhood and how another boy came to his school — same name, appearance, birthday.
After a few skirmishes between the two, the protagonist leaves the school. The doppelgänger follows. The doppelgänger haunts Wilson in the years after, leading eventually to a string of mischievous behavior (like cheating at card games). The doppelgänger seems to be always at hand to end the misdoings, making his life even more miserable.
Until one day, he confronts the other Wilson and kills him in the ensuing brawl. With his dying breath, the other Wilson has one final message for the protagonist. I shall leave those words for you to discover on your own.
But it’s safe to say the idea of an identity that’s being threatened by a look-a-like finds its punch line.
It’s a confusing (or shall we say mystic?) little story. It needs an engaged reader. If you decide to go along for the journey and be an active recipient, you will sort it out. Whether you find it a mere convoluted mess or a brilliant little story about being unique, being human, and the fear of being replaceable is for every reader to decide.
I was on the former end of the spectrum at first. But with sufficient time to let the story sink in, I swung to the latter end.
For some easier to digest and still signature-Poe adventure and fantastic mystery, look no further than “A Descent into the Maelström.”
Being one of the stories I had read years ago already, I happily re-acquainted myself with it now.
The pages-long introductory monologue that leads many Poe stories sets the tone of mystery and adventure. They trigger the reader’s imagination and curiosity by leaving out essential parts of the events in question.
You’ll learn there’s a boatsman. He’s been in a terrible storm. And he’s the sole survivor. There are teasers of action, drama, and a resolution. The retelling of the main event then fills those gaps with life.
I loved this story back in the day, and I still love it today. It makes me feel like I’m right there, seeing the storm, the waves, the whirlwind, and the ship that’s spiraling down it, with my own eyes.
There are many more stories to discover. The Dupin stories — three in number: “The Murders in the Rue Morgue,” “The Mystery of Marie Rogêt,” and “The Purloined Letter” — are masterpieces of the detective story genre. And certain similarities to the famous Sherlock Holmes stories by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, which appeared in print for the first time some 40 years later, can’t be ignored. If you like detective stories, if you enjoy a good Holmes, you’re right at home with the character that laid the groundwork.
There’s also “Ligeia” or “Berenice” — mysteries with a good dose of romance. Or “The Black Cat” and “The Tell-Tale Heart,” two mystic horror stories, where the protagonist gets into murderous acts, buries his victims and ends up being very mysteriously driven to a confession.
And that’s only the fantastic/mysterious/detective section of Poe’s work. There’s also humor, satire, and poems. I’m not much of a poem connoisseur, but Poe’s “The Raven,” for example, has been a favorite of mine ever since reading it years ago and writing a paper on it. I’m anxiously awaiting its re-read when I reach the end of the book.
Edgar Allan Poe is an author of the Romanticism era who’s certainly still got a place in today’s literary world.
Undocumented: A Photo Book That’s Beautiful & Alarming
From the fictional drama of the Poe stories to non-fictional drama, and from a master of the written word to a master of writing with light (aka photography). I’m referring to John Moore and his book “Undocumented.”
Remember one of the pictures that defined 2018? A young girl crying while looking at her mother being padded down by U.S. border agents at the American-Mexican border?
“Undocumented” is about that very same border — an issue Moore has been documenting for years.
I love this book. Just as a good photo book should be, “Undocumented” is a coffee-table book; that is, it’s something you’d want to display and have handy for flip-throughs.
It’s a photo book I would call complete. By complete, I mean it’s pictures and more. There’s writing that adds further structure, context, connection. Chapters guide us through the border issue and the stories Moore discovered in his reporting. From the origins (one of the essential pieces of the immigration puzzle) to the travels, the border region itself, and the situation beyond the border.
It’s precisely this going deeper, this looking at the border beyond its physical manifestation, the extension of its concept to include the geographical areas at the start and the end of a migration journey, which are tied to any border but often forgotten, that makes this book such a valuable contribution to the public debate and the historical record of the issue.
I won’t write too much about the pictures, can’t really show them anyway, and want to leave these wonderful creations for you to discover on your own.
But I love the variety, the depth Moore’s pictures include. From the picture where a man leans on a border fence and looks into California (pages 8–9) and an aerial-view made from a helicopter that both introduce us to the borderland (pages 10–11) to a series of studio portraits, insights into the work of the border agents, and looks into the homes of the immigrants, “Undocumented” offers a multi-faceted look at the border. It’s a book that can be discovered many times over, offering layer after layer of information.
The writing details essential context the pictures can’t communicate. But it also gives insights into the reporting routine.
It’s a book that can inspire the public debate as much as one’s own project ideas.
If that’s not sufficient to spark your curiosity, there’s also stunning cartography used, the use of dual language for the writing shows thought and care for details, and the print quality is excellent.
What could draw readers away is the fact that there are some graphical/sad pictures included; quite necessary, though. Or the large size and hefty weight and price tag that matches — all normal for quality photo books (and I’ve managed to travel with it twice already!).
So much for my first two cents on the books I’m reading. There might be a successor post at one point. But next are another regular What I’m Reading and a visual post.
