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Books on Tape

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I've found that Librivox.org is a fantastic site for audiobooks. First, it's free, which is always nice. Second, while some of the readers suck, some are remarkably good.

Brian-M earlier mentioned an audiobook of "Huckleberry Finn" available via Gutenberg but I would strongly recommend the work of the main Librivox reader of the works of Mark Twain - John Greenman. To my ears, he is Mark Twain.

It's only since I began to read for Librivox myself that I have listened to audiobooks and podcasts and now I don't drop off to sleep without listening to a couple of chapters of something (though listening to Greenman reading Twain just keeps me awake, shrieking with laughter).
 
The whole of the Aubrey/Maturin series read by Patrick Tull.
The Baroque Trilogy read by Simon Prebble.
Any Dick Francis novel read by Simon Prebble.
Any Nevil Shute novel, various narrators.
 
_Talk Talk_ by T.C. Boyle

The reader (T.C. Boyle himself) is good, and this is vivid when read aloud.

Fiction can make you understand what it's like to experience something -- in this case, what it's like to be deaf. That's the good point.

However, I wish my CD player had a fast-forward control. I'm having to skip some sections, but I wonder what I'm missing.

T.C. Boyle -- like Chuck Palahniuk -- seems to delight in skewering contemporary consumerist life. They both do this with -- to me -- agonizing or disgusting descriptions of food. (All descriptions of food, if made too explicit, disgust me.) You know: "He was having the seared Mahi-Mahi with the crust of peppercorns on a bed of risotto." Or whatever. Yechh. And descriptions of products. Less disgusting, more tedious.

It's startling when the point-of-view switches to the identity thief. That's a bit nasty, but very effective.

I'm not sure I want to be there for the whole ride, though. Fortunately, my CD player does have a button that takes you to the next track.

from a reader's review:

It’s evident [the identity thief is] numbing the pain of having lost the restaurant he operated and other failures by satiating this void with more material objects than his home can hold. Boyle doesn’t waste time illuminating the issues that plague Peck. He explains that Peck is the kind of guy who lives in his own fantasy world where preparing gourmet meals for his girlfriend and wearing Armani are tangible in his mind.

http://www.bookslut.com/fiction/2006_08_009663.php

Being immersed in a mind like that is a little too uncomfortable for me. When heard aloud, it's harder to ignore than when read on the page.
 
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I get them from the library. We can also borrow them by downloading them. Can't think of which ones were good, off the top of my head, but the reader makes such a difference.
 
Surely you're joking Mr Feynman by Richard Feynman is a great audio book. As are his lecture series tapes. Mind boggling!
 
However, I wish my CD player had a fast-forward control. I'm having to skip some sections, but I wonder what I'm missing.

That's one advantage of an MP3 player. On mine, if I hold down the skip-forward or skip-back buttons instead of just pressing and releasing them, they act like fast-forward and reverse buttons.

I've been using it to listen to downloaded podcasts of The Atheist Experience recently, and I've discovered a flaw in the design. There's no hold switch, so it's easy to accidentally press one of these buttons by accident while handling it, and then have to spend the next five minutes trying to find the bit you were listening to when it skipped.

(It's just a cheap player I got from Dick-Smith years ago and rarely used until recently. The menu is extremely awkward and clumsy to use, the screen is almost unreadable, and it's presumably obsolete because I can't find that model in the Dick-Smith catalog anymore. But it works, is compact, stores 4Gb of audio, and plugs directly into a USB port with no cables or connectors required, so that's OK by me.)
 
As others have mentioned, check with your local library and they will likely have a free downloading service.

Once there, don't overlook the Young Adult Fiction section. For professional reasons this is my wife's playground, and we often listen to books on long trips. I have always found them enjoyable, but if you don't like them you can just delete and move on to something else.
 
I remembered some ones I can suggest. Malla Nunn's "Emmanuel Cooper" stories. One was called "A Beautiful Place to Die". He's a cop in south africa during apartheid. I can't remember the reader's name, but he was good.
 
I rather enjoyed Edward Hermann's reading of Atlas Shrugged. He does great character voices, and also, the book is heavily abridged. It's only around 11.5 hours, and ISTR the unabridged version is over 40.
 
Been having long drives at work, so introduced a friend to the BBC Radio1 version of Batman: Knightfall. (Do full cast recordings count?)
 
There are two I cannot recommend highly enough: "Zombie Spaceship Wasteland" by Patton Oswalt, and "Grumpy Old Rockstar: by Rick Wakeman. Also for consideration is "Frankenstein" narrated by David Rintoul. All are outstanding, especially Patton's book.

Michael
 
The whole of the Aubrey/Maturin series read by Patrick Tull.


I got the first three on CD. I tried listening to Master and Commander while driving, but found that it distracted me, so I had to quit. I sold the other two on eBay because they were unopened. Still have M&C around here somewhere. I need to get back to reading the series; hopefully I'll be able to this summer.

I am planning to start acquiring the Sherlock Holmes stories read by Edward Hardwicke; I'll be listening to them before I go to sleep, rather than in the car.
 
My wife played me a recording of T.C. Boyle (the author of the book _Talk Talk_ that I mentioned upthread) reading this hilarious short story by Donald Barthelme. It's called The School. T.C. Boyle can read fast, and his pleasant voice somehow makes unreliable narrators even more compelling.





I'm putting it in spoilers:

Well, we had all these children out planting trees, see, because we figured that ... that was part of their education, to see how, you know, the root systems ... and also the sense of responsibility, taking care of things, being individually responsible. You know what I mean. And the trees all died. They were orange trees. I don’t know why they died, they just died. Something wrong with the soil possibly or maybe the stuff we got from the nursery wasn’t the best. We complained about it. So we’ve got thirty kids there, each kid had his or her own little tree to plant and we’ve got these thirty dead trees. All these kids looking at these little brown sticks, it was depressing.
It wouldn’t have been so bad except that just a couple of weeks before the thing with the trees, the snakes all died. But I think that the snakes – well, the reason that the snakes kicked off was that ... you remember, the boiler was shut off for four days because of the strike, and that was explicable. It was something you could explain to the kids because of the strike. I mean, none of their parents would let them cross the picket line and they knew there was a strike going on and what it meant. So when things got started up again and we found the snakes they weren’t too disturbed.
With the herb gardens it was probably a case of overwatering, and at least now they know not to overwater. The children were very conscientious with the herb gardens and some of them probably ... you know, slipped them a little extra water when we weren’t looking. Or maybe ... well, I don’t like to think about sabotage, although it did occur to us. I mean, it was something that crossed our minds. We were thinking that way probably because before that the gerbils had died, and the white mice had died, and the salamander ... well, now they know not to carry them around in plastic bags.
Of course we expected the tropical fish to die, that was no surprise. Those numbers, you look at them crooked and they’re belly-up on the surface. But the lesson plan called for a tropical fish input at that point, there was nothing we could do, it happens every year, you just have to hurry past it.
We weren’t even supposed to have a puppy.
We weren’t even supposed to have one, it was just a puppy the Murdoch girl found under a Gristede’s truck one day and she was afraid the truck would run over it when the driver had finished making his delivery, so she stuck it in her knapsack and brought it to the school with her. So we had this puppy. As soon as I saw the puppy I thought, Oh Christ, I bet it will live for about two weeks and then... And that’s what it did. It wasn’t supposed to be in the classroom at all, there’s some kind of regulation about it, but you can’t tell them they can’t have a puppy when the puppy is already there, right in front of them, running around on the floor and yap yap yapping. They named it Edgar – that is, they named it after me. They had a lot of fun running after it and yelling, “Here, Edgar! Nice Edgar!” Then they’d laugh like hell. They enjoyed the ambiguity. I enjoyed it myself. I don’t mind being kidded. They made a little house for it in the supply closet and all that. I don’t know what it died of. Distemper, I guess. It probably hadn’t had any shots. I got it out of there before the kids got to school. I checked the supply closet each morning, routinely, because I knew what was going to happen. I gave it to the custodian.
And then there was this Korean orphan that the class adopted through the Help the Children program, all the kids brought in a quarter a month, that was the idea. It was an unfortunate thing, the kid’s name was Kim and maybe we adopted him too late or something. The cause of death was not stated in the letter we got, they suggested we adopt another child instead and sent us some interesting case histories, but we didn’t have the heart. The class took it pretty hard, they began (I think, nobody ever said anything to me directly) to feel that maybe there was something wrong with the school. But I don’t think there’s anything wrong with the school, particularly, I’ve seen better and I’ve seen worse. It was just a run of bad luck. We had an extraordinary number of parents passing away, for instance. There were I think two heart attacks and two suicides, one drowning, and four killed together in a car accident. One stroke. And we had the usual heavy mortality rate among the grandparents, or maybe it was heavier this year, it seemed so. And finally the tragedy.
The tragedy occurred when Matthew Wein and Tony Mavrogordo were playing over where they’re excavating for the new federal office building. There were all these big wooden beams stacked, you know, at the edge of the excavation. There’s a court case coming out of that, the parents are claiming that the beams were poorly stacked. I don’t know what’s true and what’s not. It’s been a strange year.
I forgot to mention Billy Brandt’s father who was knifed fatally when he grappled with a masked intruder in his home.
One day, we had a discussion in class. They asked me, where did they go? The trees, the salamander, the tropical fish, Edgar, the poppas and mommas, Matthew and Tony, where did they go? And I said, I don’t know, I don’t know. And they said, who knows? and I said, nobody knows. And they said, is death that which gives meaning to life? And I said no, life is that which gives meaning to life. Then they said, but isn’t death, considered as a fundamental datum, the means by which the taken-for-granted mundanity of the everyday may be transcended in the direction of –
I said, yes, maybe.
They said, we don’t like it.
I said, that’s sound.
They said, it’s a bloody shame!
I said, it is.
They said, will you make love now with Helen (our teaching assistant) so that we can see how it is done? We know you like Helen.
I do like Helen but I said that I would not.
We’ve heard so much about it, they said, but we’ve never seen it.
I said I would be fired and that it was never, or almost never, done as a demonstration. Helen looked out the window.
They said, please, please make love with Helen, we require an assertion of value, we are frightened.
I said that they shouldn’t be frightened (although I am often frightened) and that there was value everywhere. Helen came and embraced me. I kissed her a few times on the brow. We held each other. The children were excited. Then there was a knock on the door, I opened the door, and the new gerbil walked in. The children cheered wildly.


One way this is more effective when read aloud is that the listener can't scan forward. I skim very, very fast, and will have already gleaned a little of where something is going even before I start.

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Also, there's a little Op Ed by T.M. Luhrmann about audio books in today's NYT Sunday Review. Called 'Audiobooks and the Return of Storytelling'.

Spoilers again. This is available on the web, but I'm not sure if it's because I have a subscription.

STANFORD, Calif. — THE ferns under my oak trees evoke moments from “The Great Gatsby” for me. I read the book many years ago, but I listened to it last summer while planting 50 polypodium californicas and 50 festuca idahoensis in the dappled light beneath my oaks. Now, when I look at them, I think about that last awful accident, the yellow Rolls-Royce screaming past the repair shop, and what F. Scott Fitzgerald’s narrator called Gatsby’s extraordinary gift for hope.

The sale of audiobooks has skyrocketed in recent years. In 2012, total industry sales in the book business fell just under 1 percent over all, but those of downloadable audiobooks rose by more than 20 percent. That year, 13,255 titles came out as audiobooks, compared with 4,602 in 2009. Publishers seem to be paying more attention to their production. When Simon and Schuster published Colm Toibin’s “Testament of Mary” last autumn, the narrator was Meryl Streep.

We tend to regard reading with our eyes as more serious, more highbrow, than hearing a book read out loud. Listening to a written text harkens back to childhood, when we couldn’t read it ourselves, or a time when our parents left off reading the chapter out loud in the middle, a nudge that we’d use our school-taught skills to finish it off by ourselves.

The great linguist Ferdinand de Saussure thought we treated writing as more important than speaking because writing is visual. Speech is ephemeral — you hear a word, and then it is gone. The word written down remains, and so we attach more significance to it. Saussure wrote that when we imagined text as more important than speech, it was as if we thought we would learn more about someone from his photograph than from his face.

But so it is. The ability to read has always been invested with more importance than mere speech. When only a small priestly elite could read, books were sacred mysteries. When more people could read, literacy became a means to move forward in the world. These days, the ability to read is a prerequisite for full participation in the social order.

But for most of human history literature has been spoken out loud. The Iliad and the Odyssey were sung. We think that the Homeric singers of those tales mastered the prodigious mnemonic task presented by those thousands upon thousands of lines of text through an intricate combination of common phrases — rosy-fingered dawn, the wine-dark sea — and nested plots that could be expanded or shortened as the occasion demanded.

Even after narratives were written down, they were more often heard than read. The Roman elites could read, but gatherings at which people recited their poetry were common. And before the modern era, when printing made books widely available and literacy became widespread, reading was an oral act. People read aloud not only to others but also to themselves, and books, as the historian William Graham puts it in “Beyond the Written Word,” were meant for the ears as much, or more so, than for the eyes.

In the early 17th century the Jesuit missionary to China Matteo Ricci captured the orality of writing in this letter to a Peking publisher: “The whole point of writing something down is that your voice will then carry for thousands of miles, whereas in direct conversation it fades at a hundred paces.” Mr. Graham writes that in Europe, silent private reading became widespread only in the second half of the 19th century.




What happens when you hear a text rather than read it? The obvious thing is that you can do something else with your eyes. That is why I can listen to books when I garden. My hands and eyes can work. And so listening to a book is a different sensory experience than reading it. The inner imagining of the story becomes commingled with the outer senses — my hands on the trowel, the scent of tansy in the breeze. The creation of this sensory richness was in fact an explicit goal of the oral reading of the Bible in the medieval European cloister, so that daily tasks would be infused with Scripture, and Scripture would be remembered through ordinary tasks.

I find that when I listen to a story, instead of reading it on a page, my memory of the book does change. I remember more of the action and less of the language, although sometimes when I listen a sentence will drop into my mind and shock me into attention in a way that is less common when I read. (Mind you, it helps to have a good reader.) You don’t check back on previous paragraphs or read the last page first when you listen. You move forward, and what you carry with you is person and event.

I listen the way I read books as a child, as if I were there watching. The author becomes more transparent, the characters more real. Listening to “Bring Up the Bodies,” I don’t think, what is the author, Hilary Mantel, up to? I feel the threat of death damp on my skin. And when I have listened to a book in a particular place — the ferns beneath the oak trees — I remember the book when I come back to that place, as if my hands in the soil were digging up the words.
 
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_The Dain Curse _ by Dashiell Hammett, read by Richard Ferrone

Perfect. And Richard Ferrone has just the right sort of tough-guy voice, without going too far.

_The Black Swan_ by Nassim Nicholas Taleb.

The basic gist is all there in the introduction, and from there on it's pure bloviation. The problem with an audio book is that once the endless reminiscence starts, you have no way of knowing where or when it will stop. You're stuck in the trackless wastelands of Taleb's egotistical memory. Some might enjoy that kind of thing.

I think the man has enough ideas to fill exactly one slim volume.


====================

One thing that I find distracting -- and would be interested to hear others' views on -- is when an English-speaking reader or narrator pronounces a foreign word with an accent fully faithful to that foreign language.

So, an American speaker is reading the word "tortilla" and pronounces it in all its Spanish glory. (Torr--TEEE--ah.)

NPR reporters are especially fond of doing this.

There was a host of SNL who talked about this in a skit a long time ago, but I can't remember his name.

Maybe all that can be said on the subject is that I'm an Anglo-Americano-centric bigot, too enamored of his own complacency and smug privileges.

Or maybe it just sounds silly to interrupt the flow of language to suddenly lapse into a vivid foreign accent.
 
_The Dain Curse _ by Dashiell Hammett, read by Richard Ferrone

Perfect. And Richard Ferrone has just the right sort of tough-guy voice, without going too far.

_The Black Swan_ by Nassim Nicholas Taleb.

The basic gist is all there in the introduction, and from there on it's pure bloviation. The problem with an audio book is that once the endless reminiscence starts, you have no way of knowing where or when it will stop. You're stuck in the trackless wastelands of Taleb's egotistical memory. Some might enjoy that kind of thing.

I think the man has enough ideas to fill exactly one slim volume.


====================

One thing that I find distracting -- and would be interested to hear others' views on -- is when an English-speaking reader or narrator pronounces a foreign word with an accent fully faithful to that foreign language.

So, an American speaker is reading the word "tortilla" and pronounces it in all its Spanish glory. (Torr--TEEE--ah.)

NPR reporters are especially fond of doing this.

There was a host of SNL who talked about this in a skit a long time ago, but I can't remember his name.

Maybe all that can be said on the subject is that I'm an Anglo-Americano-centric bigot, too enamored of his own complacency and smug privileges.

Or maybe it just sounds silly to interrupt the flow of language to suddenly lapse into a vivid foreign accent.
I read (or at least skimmed) The Black Swan, and noticed much the same thing. My Brother in Law has a copy of Fooled by Randomness, and it's much the same there too. Taleb has good ideas, and a fairly novel approach, worth looking at, but it's pretty much covered in an essay. All the rest is examples and recapitulations.

These are good books to borrow and then give back.
 
Elliot Gould read Poodle Springs, the Philip Marlowe novel begun by Raymond Chandler and finished by Robert Parker. Dreadful version--Gould mispronounces names and words, stumbles, gives weird emphasis to words. Very distracting, and I don't know why they didn't clean it up in editing.
 
The K sent on a road trip a few yarns ago, the vehicle had satellite radio, the book channel is to die for.
 

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