Maureen Corrigan

Of course, you're already a Gatsby fan if you choose this book, but the author’s skills are a revelation to me, despite listening to her book reviews forever on Fresh Air. She's a charming combination of a fangirl and an academic, and her analysis of her 100+ reads of the book seems spot on. There's a bit of a shuck on the total whiteness of the novel (except for some blatant racism and, also, contempt for women), but seeing as it was published in 1925, that's a given. What's less show more palatable is her disinterest in Zelda Fitzgerald, and especially in her respectable novel Save Me the Waltz. Corrigan's tracking down of source documents and reading of Fitzgerald's letters reveals his overwhelming desire to be critically and popularly acclaimed, which did not happen until after his death at 44. The book is a brilliant balance between the real Fitzgerald and the characters Gatsby and narrator Nick, and if she seems to conflate them at times, she's forgiven. There are remarkable insights into the language, structure, and characters, and Corrigan may yet convince you that this is the Great American Novel.

Quote from a Fitzgerald letter: "The whole burden of this novel is the loss of those illusions that give such color to the world, so that you don’t care whether things are true or false as long as they partake of the magical glory.” show less

Professor, NPR book critic, and bibliophile Maureen Corrigan discusses the books that have been important to her, dividing her choices into three categories: women's extreme-adventure stories, stories about work (including interesting considerations of detective novels), and Catholic martyr stories. Corrigan's discussions are fascinating and insightful, and she discusses how these books informed her life well. Recommended to anyone who enjoys books about books or the reading life.

A series of lectures about censorship that all start with a content warning disclaimer made me chuckle. The lecturer has serious credentials, as both a professor in literary criticism, and long time reviewer of books, including being a judge for the pulitzer prize in 2012. The content is split between a
historical backdrop and working its way toward the modern day, with a near-total US centric focus.

Once we get, roughly at midpoint, closer to the present era, the usual fault lines of this show more topic begin to emerge. As you would expect from a critic with a gig at NPR there is little second guessing when covering the impact of #MeToo cancellations - accusations is enough to warrant books being removed from publishing or shelves, under the neoliberal idea of "it's not censorship because we're allowed to determine what we stock or sell". However, in lectures about school boards "banning books" for content the ability to buy these banned books and read them isn't brought up as a counterpoint for why it's "not really censorship". The controversy over Critical Race Theory is given a lecture, and dismissed as the fevered imagining of conservatives, yet sprinkled throughout the critical theory (not CRT) assumptions about identity politics are assumed real and not critiqued at all. It's simply given as a fact.
Now to her credit, books being attacked from the left is actually brought up, such as in the context of banning Huck Finn for sensitivity reasons, or going after To Kill A Mockingbird. However, the defense of books turns toothless and pleading in this context, with a deference given to their positions, instead of a full throated defense of missing the whole point of said books. In other words, it's roughly what you'd expect.
The biggest omission from a book with this title though is the hard cases. Most of these controversies are kicking in open doors for book lovers. Al Quaeda propaganda, Mein Kampf, bomb making instructions, open access viral databases, there are a lot more book/information controversies with life and death stakes - worthy for inclusion next to comic books with gay sex scenes? show less

I enjoyed this book much more than a couple of other similarly titled books (So Many Books, So Little Time; and Ruined by Reading), which simply did not hold my interest and failed to deliver in regard to unearthing rare classics or more books to read. Corrigan's lists of books at the back of Leave Me Alone are a treasure trove for booklovers. I guess my only difficulty with her book was the inordinate amount of space give to the Bronte sisters and Jane Austen, whose books I've tried to show more read, but have never finished. After reading Corrigan's extrapolations of them as "extreme adventure" type stories for women, I've decided that it's probably not just me; it's a gender thing. The parts I probably enjoyed the most were her more autobiographical revelations, about her parents (a father who loved books and a mother who did not), and her friends growing up in Queens. She also let us into her adult life, telling of the ordeal she and her husband endured in trying repeatedly to have a child and then of the adventure of the successful adoption of their daughter in China. But I also loved the segments of stuff she read throughout her life. Odd to find out that a distinguished scholar and book critic like Corrigan loves mysteries and noir detective stories, and also enjoyed "series" books. Her descriptions of the Beany Malone books that Catholic girls apparently loved from the 40s through the 60s even sounded interesting. Made me think of a few similar books I remember reading somewhat guiltily many years ago, since they were thought to be "girls' books": Mr & Mrs Bojo Jones, and Seventeenth Summer. I was somewhat surprised that we share many "favorite" books. And although she never mentioned it, while reading this book I also thought often of Washington Post book critic Michael Dirda's wonderful memoir of his life-long love affair with books, An Open Book. I think I'll put the two books side-by-side on my to-read-again-someday bookshelf. This was a terrific book. From a confirmed fellow booklover, thanks, Maureen. show less