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1BeesleSR
So far this year I have read:
Talking Heads by Alan Bennett
Life Class by Pat Barker
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer
Talking Heads is a series of monologues written for Television by Alan Bennett (The History Boys, The Madness of King George) I have had the pleasure of listening to the BBC audio CD of some of these so while reading the scripts my imagination could contextualize without difficulty. Each artlessly narrated story (Alan Bennett describes his characters narrations as artless and so they are) begins with chords of normality into which unexpected and discordant notes sound surprisingly, disorientating ones sense of balance. As the story progresses the narrators handle on reality and your own perception of their experience weave in such a way that rather than laughter (and I did laugh) hollowness expands in the disparity between an unspoken need for fulfillment and the lonely emptiness of unheard needs.
‘Life Class’ is another well researched historical novel set at the start of World War I by Pat Barker. I loved her Regeneration trilogy set in the same period and was entertained by the developing relationship described under the stresses of the War in this novel.
Cormac McCarthy is new to me. I have seen his books on the shelves and I knew that he had won prizes. I picked up ‘No Country for Old Men’ because I thought it would be a fast paced thriller, a page turner with violence, something for a plane ride, riveting and exciting. I was not disappointed; I was also floored, ‘Gob-smacked’ in the dialect I grew up with. My Goodness is Anton Chigurh not one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse? There is myth to this man! A Fate incarnate, one of Deaths henchman sent to reestablish a grim order in a chaotic world of power and greed. What does it mean that members of the American Public are dispatched with a cattle stun Gun? With a flip of a coin (‘It’s the best I can offer’) Chigurh crystallizes the fate of two innocent characters caught up in the action. –Sometimes innocent people die- I was left depressed at the end of this book; Worn to the rough bedrock of existence and questioning the truth of the American Dream. This book is a killer.
Eoin Colfer saves the day! There is nothing like escapist adolescent novels to sooth the frayed edges of deep dark thought. Not one of his best but ‘The Supernaturalists’ was great fun.
Sunday I started Ngugi wa Thiong'o ‘Wizard of the Crow’ which has started in a very promising way, it is also 750 plus pages long so that should keep me busy till February.
Talking Heads by Alan Bennett
Life Class by Pat Barker
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer
Talking Heads is a series of monologues written for Television by Alan Bennett (The History Boys, The Madness of King George) I have had the pleasure of listening to the BBC audio CD of some of these so while reading the scripts my imagination could contextualize without difficulty. Each artlessly narrated story (Alan Bennett describes his characters narrations as artless and so they are) begins with chords of normality into which unexpected and discordant notes sound surprisingly, disorientating ones sense of balance. As the story progresses the narrators handle on reality and your own perception of their experience weave in such a way that rather than laughter (and I did laugh) hollowness expands in the disparity between an unspoken need for fulfillment and the lonely emptiness of unheard needs.
‘Life Class’ is another well researched historical novel set at the start of World War I by Pat Barker. I loved her Regeneration trilogy set in the same period and was entertained by the developing relationship described under the stresses of the War in this novel.
Cormac McCarthy is new to me. I have seen his books on the shelves and I knew that he had won prizes. I picked up ‘No Country for Old Men’ because I thought it would be a fast paced thriller, a page turner with violence, something for a plane ride, riveting and exciting. I was not disappointed; I was also floored, ‘Gob-smacked’ in the dialect I grew up with. My Goodness is Anton Chigurh not one of the Horsemen of the Apocalypse? There is myth to this man! A Fate incarnate, one of Deaths henchman sent to reestablish a grim order in a chaotic world of power and greed. What does it mean that members of the American Public are dispatched with a cattle stun Gun? With a flip of a coin (‘It’s the best I can offer’) Chigurh crystallizes the fate of two innocent characters caught up in the action. –Sometimes innocent people die- I was left depressed at the end of this book; Worn to the rough bedrock of existence and questioning the truth of the American Dream. This book is a killer.
Eoin Colfer saves the day! There is nothing like escapist adolescent novels to sooth the frayed edges of deep dark thought. Not one of his best but ‘The Supernaturalists’ was great fun.
Sunday I started Ngugi wa Thiong'o ‘Wizard of the Crow’ which has started in a very promising way, it is also 750 plus pages long so that should keep me busy till February.
2avaland
>I have "Life Class" somewhere in the TBR pile, so glad it will prove to be a good read when I get to it. I also have had Wizard of the Crow around for quite a long time, but as I told rebeccanyc, I'm holding off on the larger books until after my degree work is finished.
While I was not as enamored with The Road as most, I thought Cormac McCarthy might deserve a closer look some time, if for no other reason then to look at what he's doing with his neo-westerns (at least that is what I called The Road in a paper I wrote for a popular culture class). There is an interesting placement of cultural icons in The Road (i.e. the shopping cart, the gun, and the can of Coke). Ah, a discussion for another day perhaps.
btw, tiffin is the only other LTer I've heard use gob-smacked on LT:-)
While I was not as enamored with The Road as most, I thought Cormac McCarthy might deserve a closer look some time, if for no other reason then to look at what he's doing with his neo-westerns (at least that is what I called The Road in a paper I wrote for a popular culture class). There is an interesting placement of cultural icons in The Road (i.e. the shopping cart, the gun, and the can of Coke). Ah, a discussion for another day perhaps.
btw, tiffin is the only other LTer I've heard use gob-smacked on LT:-)
3BeesleSR
tiffin where art thou?
I am going to take a closer look at 'No Country for Old Men', It grabbed my attention unexpectedly and now I'm reading avalands comments on The Road and I am wondering what else might be hovering in NCfOM!
I am going to take a closer look at 'No Country for Old Men', It grabbed my attention unexpectedly and now I'm reading avalands comments on The Road and I am wondering what else might be hovering in NCfOM!
4BeesleSR
So far this year I have read:
Talking Heads by Alan Bennett
Life Class by Pat Barker
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer
Wizard Of The Crow by NGUGI wa THIONG'O
Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I commented on the first four books earlier in this thread. ‘Wizard of the Crow’ is a satire written with a fictitious African State dictatorship in mind which turns out to be based on Kenya of the early 1980’s. When I imagine this story I find I am visualizing theater, the dialogue plays all the facets of character relationships both political and social, personal and private, the scenes are usually discrete and the action moves back and forth in ‘acts’ from scene to scene. The plot unfolds, turns, twists, and develops often surprisingly and unpredictably but it never struck me as contrived. I wanted to continue with this story all the way through, and at 750 odd pages I did think this novel might be work but time flowed by effortlessly.
‘Half of a Yellow Sun’ is captivating. I have told myself that I need to read non-Caucasian female authors (as they are a group that seems to be singularly missing from my reading log); so I was easily sold on buying a copy of this book. (And if you check out the amazon.com page for this book you’ll see that it even has it’s own video for marketing). I was a very young child when the Biafran/Nigeria conflict was occurring and I only have distant and vague recollections of calls for aid to Biafra. This story will leave you in no doubt about the nature and cost of that conflict. It is disturbing and wonderfully affirming in measure, turn by turn.
I found the Englishman, Richard to be a some what flattish character cut to a complex design, but flat all the same, and in some places the dialogue had me thinking about grading High School Papers (good ones but…) so I wasn’t as enthralled as some people have appeared to be having read this novel. I do think it is a gripping story told extremely well and I would not hesitate to recommend it; the impact on me has been such that I have gone out of my way to learn more about that period in Nigerian/Biafran history and I don’t always follow up my reading with that sort of work!
Talking Heads by Alan Bennett
Life Class by Pat Barker
No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer
Wizard Of The Crow by NGUGI wa THIONG'O
Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie
I commented on the first four books earlier in this thread. ‘Wizard of the Crow’ is a satire written with a fictitious African State dictatorship in mind which turns out to be based on Kenya of the early 1980’s. When I imagine this story I find I am visualizing theater, the dialogue plays all the facets of character relationships both political and social, personal and private, the scenes are usually discrete and the action moves back and forth in ‘acts’ from scene to scene. The plot unfolds, turns, twists, and develops often surprisingly and unpredictably but it never struck me as contrived. I wanted to continue with this story all the way through, and at 750 odd pages I did think this novel might be work but time flowed by effortlessly.
‘Half of a Yellow Sun’ is captivating. I have told myself that I need to read non-Caucasian female authors (as they are a group that seems to be singularly missing from my reading log); so I was easily sold on buying a copy of this book. (And if you check out the amazon.com page for this book you’ll see that it even has it’s own video for marketing). I was a very young child when the Biafran/Nigeria conflict was occurring and I only have distant and vague recollections of calls for aid to Biafra. This story will leave you in no doubt about the nature and cost of that conflict. It is disturbing and wonderfully affirming in measure, turn by turn.
I found the Englishman, Richard to be a some what flattish character cut to a complex design, but flat all the same, and in some places the dialogue had me thinking about grading High School Papers (good ones but…) so I wasn’t as enthralled as some people have appeared to be having read this novel. I do think it is a gripping story told extremely well and I would not hesitate to recommend it; the impact on me has been such that I have gone out of my way to learn more about that period in Nigerian/Biafran history and I don’t always follow up my reading with that sort of work!
5avaland
Love Half of a Yellow Sun. May I recommend other African women writers?
Tsitsi Dangarembga. Zimbabwean author, playwright & filmmaker. I would recommend her only novel, a bildungsroman, Nervous Conditions. I believe this won the Commonwealth Prize when it was published.
Buchi Emecheta. Nigerian author in the generation before Adichie. It's bleak, but I recommend The Joys of Motherhood as a good starting point.
Doreen Baingana. Ugandan author. Tropical Fish: Tales from Entebbe is a collection of short fiction, related stories, set in the 1990s.
Nawal el Saadawi. Egyptian psychiatrist, political activist, and prolific author. I would recommend starting with Woman at Point Zero, a short novel based on a true story.
Assia Djebar. Algerian author and feminist. I think she is the most creative writer on this list which is evident especially in her short fiction. To start with, I would recommend an early novel, Children of the New World: A Novel of the Algerian War written when she was just 26.
I could go on, but I don't want to overwhelm you:-)
Tsitsi Dangarembga. Zimbabwean author, playwright & filmmaker. I would recommend her only novel, a bildungsroman, Nervous Conditions. I believe this won the Commonwealth Prize when it was published.
Buchi Emecheta. Nigerian author in the generation before Adichie. It's bleak, but I recommend The Joys of Motherhood as a good starting point.
Doreen Baingana. Ugandan author. Tropical Fish: Tales from Entebbe is a collection of short fiction, related stories, set in the 1990s.
Nawal el Saadawi. Egyptian psychiatrist, political activist, and prolific author. I would recommend starting with Woman at Point Zero, a short novel based on a true story.
Assia Djebar. Algerian author and feminist. I think she is the most creative writer on this list which is evident especially in her short fiction. To start with, I would recommend an early novel, Children of the New World: A Novel of the Algerian War written when she was just 26.
I could go on, but I don't want to overwhelm you:-)
6BeesleSR
Thanks Avaland! Not overwhelmed so much as extending my TBR horizon. I am taking note of your recommendations and the next time I can borrow or buy a copy I will. I have to say I felt ashamedly insular in my reading as I looked through your list, I have not only not heard of these women but I couldn't think of any others either. I have set some reading goals that are intended to change this state of affairs however so your support here is invaluable.
7avaland
>6 BeesleSR: Most of these authors are contemporaries and from an earlier generation of writers from Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie. Baingana is the most contemporary of the group above and she is undoubtly older than the very young Adichie.
There are many male authors, of course: - Ben Okri (Nigeria), Abdulrazak Gurnah (Zanzibar), Mia Couto (Mozambique), Ngugi wa Thiong'o (Kenya), Damon Galgut (South Africa), Soyinka & Achebe (Nigeria) to name just a few:-)
There are many male authors, of course: - Ben Okri (Nigeria), Abdulrazak Gurnah (Zanzibar), Mia Couto (Mozambique), Ngugi wa Thiong'o (Kenya), Damon Galgut (South Africa), Soyinka & Achebe (Nigeria) to name just a few:-)
8BeesleSR
Roddy Doyle takes a dive...
Oh, Play That Thing by Roddy Doyle
I commented on the first six books earlier in this thread. Roddy Doyle’s ‘Oh, Play That Thing’ is a sequel to a book I haven’t read (A Star Called Henry) and unwittingly I picked it out and began without knowing of the first in what is to be a trilogy. I soon realized that ‘Henry Smart’ had a history I was unaware of and pieced together the bones of that particular past (which is reflected upon during the novel) as I shoveled my way through the drifts of this particular part of Henry Smarts life. And drift it does. The character is aimless in ways that reminded me of ‘Thomas Pynchon’ with occasional shifts from realistic scenes into semi-mythical adventure of the ‘Boys Own’ variety. Now this style is not what I have been accustomed to with Roddy Doyle and I wasn’t enjoying the ride so the longer I stuck with it the more I wondered whether I should be reading it at all. Louis Armstrong appears as a fairly major character and I began to think that perhaps I’d be better off reading a biography of Mr. Armstrong; his life in Roddy Doyle’s manuscript intrigued me and had me asking if the real Louis had taken to burglary to supplement his income in the later twenties. By the time I finished I was done with Roddy Doyle too; I don’t think I’ll pick up another Roddy Doyle for a good few months and before I do I’ll double check on www.amazon.co.uk to see what the rest of the reading public think about it so I don’t follow disappointment with more of the same.
Oh, Play That Thing by Roddy Doyle
I commented on the first six books earlier in this thread. Roddy Doyle’s ‘Oh, Play That Thing’ is a sequel to a book I haven’t read (A Star Called Henry) and unwittingly I picked it out and began without knowing of the first in what is to be a trilogy. I soon realized that ‘Henry Smart’ had a history I was unaware of and pieced together the bones of that particular past (which is reflected upon during the novel) as I shoveled my way through the drifts of this particular part of Henry Smarts life. And drift it does. The character is aimless in ways that reminded me of ‘Thomas Pynchon’ with occasional shifts from realistic scenes into semi-mythical adventure of the ‘Boys Own’ variety. Now this style is not what I have been accustomed to with Roddy Doyle and I wasn’t enjoying the ride so the longer I stuck with it the more I wondered whether I should be reading it at all. Louis Armstrong appears as a fairly major character and I began to think that perhaps I’d be better off reading a biography of Mr. Armstrong; his life in Roddy Doyle’s manuscript intrigued me and had me asking if the real Louis had taken to burglary to supplement his income in the later twenties. By the time I finished I was done with Roddy Doyle too; I don’t think I’ll pick up another Roddy Doyle for a good few months and before I do I’ll double check on www.amazon.co.uk to see what the rest of the reading public think about it so I don’t follow disappointment with more of the same.
9BeesleSR
The Unbearable Lightness Of Being
by
Milan Kundera
If you are what you eat and you live in a consumer society then you’re anchored in materialism, commercialism, fast foods perhaps? Because of this ones emotional and spiritual experience may just be eddies in a Western harbor, but what if you wake one day and look into the mirror and begin to question life? What if you pause long enough to hear the silence around you? What if you then settle into your body and look for a deeper meaning? Milan Kundera explores being here on this planet with an exploration of the lives of three main characters who appear to be born in moments of authorial reflection; Milan Kundera frankly depicts the thoughts he has that led him to these characters but they are so real that I am going to believe them to be real. I understand that these people are lost emotionally, none of them have a solid family relationship (take that to mean what ever you wish, their families did not hear them and they left family alone). So here are people with little emotional weight to hold them firmly down to any metaphorical earth you care to imagine; they are in search for the idyll, Eden, love, and place of belonging. And adding degrees of poignancy that make it unbearable they exist in a Czechoslovakia that is invaded and occupied by the Russians, they lose the patriotic parent, they lose their country, their orientation is further confounded even to the point of street signs replaced with new names, Russian names. External uncertainty finally brings them to discover what is certain and true between themselves, they do find a place in which they are together. Milan Kundera does all this without ‘Kitsch’ (the denial that shit exists) but I cannot say more without telling you something that would fundamentally change you’re experience of the book.
by
Milan Kundera
If you are what you eat and you live in a consumer society then you’re anchored in materialism, commercialism, fast foods perhaps? Because of this ones emotional and spiritual experience may just be eddies in a Western harbor, but what if you wake one day and look into the mirror and begin to question life? What if you pause long enough to hear the silence around you? What if you then settle into your body and look for a deeper meaning? Milan Kundera explores being here on this planet with an exploration of the lives of three main characters who appear to be born in moments of authorial reflection; Milan Kundera frankly depicts the thoughts he has that led him to these characters but they are so real that I am going to believe them to be real. I understand that these people are lost emotionally, none of them have a solid family relationship (take that to mean what ever you wish, their families did not hear them and they left family alone). So here are people with little emotional weight to hold them firmly down to any metaphorical earth you care to imagine; they are in search for the idyll, Eden, love, and place of belonging. And adding degrees of poignancy that make it unbearable they exist in a Czechoslovakia that is invaded and occupied by the Russians, they lose the patriotic parent, they lose their country, their orientation is further confounded even to the point of street signs replaced with new names, Russian names. External uncertainty finally brings them to discover what is certain and true between themselves, they do find a place in which they are together. Milan Kundera does all this without ‘Kitsch’ (the denial that shit exists) but I cannot say more without telling you something that would fundamentally change you’re experience of the book.
10BeesleSR
My Beautiful Laundrette
by
Hanif Kureshi
This screenplay got Hanif Kureshi an Oscar Nomination back in oh..1985 I think it was. I read the 65 pages in two sittings and was thoroughly entertained. There was an abundance of phrases like "We are professional business men not professional Pakis" that startled and made me reassess my perspective on the immigrant experience. That's all I have to say; not because there is no more to say but because I am about to leave on a field trip to Kanbe village in the Delta and my mind is else where! (Oh it will be a good trip, not at all grim).
by
Hanif Kureshi
This screenplay got Hanif Kureshi an Oscar Nomination back in oh..1985 I think it was. I read the 65 pages in two sittings and was thoroughly entertained. There was an abundance of phrases like "We are professional business men not professional Pakis" that startled and made me reassess my perspective on the immigrant experience. That's all I have to say; not because there is no more to say but because I am about to leave on a field trip to Kanbe village in the Delta and my mind is else where! (Oh it will be a good trip, not at all grim).
11janeajones
#9 -- The Unbearable Lightness of Being is one of my all-time favorite novels -- and one of my favorite films (with Daniel Day-Lewis), for that matter. I turned 21 on the day that the USSR invaded Czechoslovakia after the Prague Spring -- the same year that MLK and Bobby Kennedy were assassinated. The novel so captures that strange, strange time in the late 60s of hope and despair and eroticism and death.....
13BeesleSR
Talking Heads by Alan Bennett 1/4/2009
Life Class by Pat Barker 1/7/2009
No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy 1/9/2009
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer 1/11/2009
Wizard Of The Crow by NGUGI wa THIONG'O 1/24/2009
Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 1/31/2009
Oh, Play That Thing by Roddy Doyle 2/5/2009
The Unbearable Lightness Of Being by Milan Kundera 2/10/2009
My Beautiful Laundrette by Hanif Kareshi 2/10/2009
Prime Obsession by John Derbyshire 2/21/2009
The Fall by Albert Camus 2/22/2009
Well that was thoroughly enjoyable; John Derbyshire’s ‘Prime Obsession’ recounts the story of the Riemann Hypothesis a piece of math that was brilliantly intuitive back in 1859 when Bernard Riemann first presented it and is still unproven despite being close to the heart of large swathes of Math and Physics. John Derbyshire kept warning me that the Math towards the end of the book would have to be taken on trust and sure enough in the last two chapters I was lost; however I did get a distinct flavor of the cooking and I felt that I knew not only something of the big picture but a great deal about the people behind the Math. There is plenty of character in this story and some excellent anecdotes, I would not hesitate to recommend it to anyone with solid High School Math but I suspect that the readership is self selecting and quite probably it is those with a firm math interest who will plum for this mathematically erudite (and simply erudite!) account of the prime of our mathematical lives.
After finishing ‘Prime Obsession’ I picked up “The Fall” by Albert Camus. I think I understood ‘Prime Obsession’ better than “The Fall”. The character labeled ‘Clamence’ whose ‘real’ identity is questionable has an ego the size of New York City but the style of a Parisian Hedonist. He pontificates with philosophical ruminations on the nature of good and evil and our relationship not so much with those two ‘qualities’ (good and…) but with the schema we have constructed within which to place these two labels. I think the character suggested that without criminals to prosecute, society’s moral framework would become a joke. (Because we are all guilty; it is just that with criminals being the objects upon which we project ‘the bad’ and the foil with which we construct our own innocence.) Albert Camus had me scratching my head and wishing I might sit in with a student seminar on French Literature of the fifties so that I could get a better handle on the meat of the book. At one point ‘Clamence’ becomes descriptive of the Paris around him and I relax and start to enjoy the prose when suddenly ‘Clamence’ catches himself being lyrical and castigates himself before getting back to what really matters. I guess I’d better go Google Camus.
Life Class by Pat Barker 1/7/2009
No Country For Old Men by Cormac McCarthy 1/9/2009
The Supernaturalists by Eoin Colfer 1/11/2009
Wizard Of The Crow by NGUGI wa THIONG'O 1/24/2009
Half Of A Yellow Sun by Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie 1/31/2009
Oh, Play That Thing by Roddy Doyle 2/5/2009
The Unbearable Lightness Of Being by Milan Kundera 2/10/2009
My Beautiful Laundrette by Hanif Kareshi 2/10/2009
Prime Obsession by John Derbyshire 2/21/2009
The Fall by Albert Camus 2/22/2009
Well that was thoroughly enjoyable; John Derbyshire’s ‘Prime Obsession’ recounts the story of the Riemann Hypothesis a piece of math that was brilliantly intuitive back in 1859 when Bernard Riemann first presented it and is still unproven despite being close to the heart of large swathes of Math and Physics. John Derbyshire kept warning me that the Math towards the end of the book would have to be taken on trust and sure enough in the last two chapters I was lost; however I did get a distinct flavor of the cooking and I felt that I knew not only something of the big picture but a great deal about the people behind the Math. There is plenty of character in this story and some excellent anecdotes, I would not hesitate to recommend it to anyone with solid High School Math but I suspect that the readership is self selecting and quite probably it is those with a firm math interest who will plum for this mathematically erudite (and simply erudite!) account of the prime of our mathematical lives.
After finishing ‘Prime Obsession’ I picked up “The Fall” by Albert Camus. I think I understood ‘Prime Obsession’ better than “The Fall”. The character labeled ‘Clamence’ whose ‘real’ identity is questionable has an ego the size of New York City but the style of a Parisian Hedonist. He pontificates with philosophical ruminations on the nature of good and evil and our relationship not so much with those two ‘qualities’ (good and…) but with the schema we have constructed within which to place these two labels. I think the character suggested that without criminals to prosecute, society’s moral framework would become a joke. (Because we are all guilty; it is just that with criminals being the objects upon which we project ‘the bad’ and the foil with which we construct our own innocence.) Albert Camus had me scratching my head and wishing I might sit in with a student seminar on French Literature of the fifties so that I could get a better handle on the meat of the book. At one point ‘Clamence’ becomes descriptive of the Paris around him and I relax and start to enjoy the prose when suddenly ‘Clamence’ catches himself being lyrical and castigates himself before getting back to what really matters. I guess I’d better go Google Camus.
15Fullmoonblue
Wonderful -- your comments about Unbearable Lightness make me want to pick it up again!
The other I really enjoyed by Kundera was Identity. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, on the other hand, was fine... but somewhat darker than the other two.
(And oh my goodness, re #11, yes, what a movie. Ever seen DDL in My Beautiful Laundrette...? Not bad either!!)
The other I really enjoyed by Kundera was Identity. The Book of Laughter and Forgetting, on the other hand, was fine... but somewhat darker than the other two.
(And oh my goodness, re #11, yes, what a movie. Ever seen DDL in My Beautiful Laundrette...? Not bad either!!)
16urania1
Murr is a big fan as well. Murr and I consider Camus one of the great comic geniuses of the 20th century. Why? Go ask Murr over on his/her thread. You might also ask him/her if his/her proctologist is still under the couch? Tell Murr urania sent you ;-)
17BeesleSR
well I missed that flurry of activity on my 'thread'. Now I need to go and find Murr... I think there's time before the staff meeting. Yes Fullmoonblue...thank you, I was wondering if Kundera had other novels that I might consider picking up and reading you're comment I think I'll add him to me TBR horizon.
18BeesleSR
"Murder Must Advertise" by Dorothy L Sayers
“It pays to advertise”: so wrote a 30 year old Dorothy L Sayers when employed as a copywriter in an Advertising agency at the start of the 1920’s. And “Murder Must Advertise” comes similarly from that time and that experience. Lord Wimsey takes disguise and employment at Pym’s Publicity and the plot unfolds; and it isn’t so much the mystery (which only surprised me in the earlier part of the book) as the wonderful evocation of the advertising world back in the twenties. I thoroughly enjoyed the dialogue sprinkled with ‘copy’ and the atmosphere of the office simply smokes off the page. If I pictured my ideal cozy spot in a wintry world I would be in an armchair by a fireside, snow falling beyond cottage windows, Tea on the side and ‘Murder Must Advertise” innocently entertaining my fancy with visions of a world before Climate Change and Global terror. Ahhh….nostalgia is my opiate.
“It pays to advertise”: so wrote a 30 year old Dorothy L Sayers when employed as a copywriter in an Advertising agency at the start of the 1920’s. And “Murder Must Advertise” comes similarly from that time and that experience. Lord Wimsey takes disguise and employment at Pym’s Publicity and the plot unfolds; and it isn’t so much the mystery (which only surprised me in the earlier part of the book) as the wonderful evocation of the advertising world back in the twenties. I thoroughly enjoyed the dialogue sprinkled with ‘copy’ and the atmosphere of the office simply smokes off the page. If I pictured my ideal cozy spot in a wintry world I would be in an armchair by a fireside, snow falling beyond cottage windows, Tea on the side and ‘Murder Must Advertise” innocently entertaining my fancy with visions of a world before Climate Change and Global terror. Ahhh….nostalgia is my opiate.
19TadAD
>18 BeesleSR:: Of the non-Harriet stories, this is among my favorites...The Nine Tailors is the only one that's also in contention. MMA is a bit more light-hearted in the story line and has the wonderful cricket scenes, TNT was a bit darker.
20BeesleSR
Yes the cricket scene was wonderful, DLS gives such detail but keeps up the pace of action and draws character portraits all as game develops. I have noted 'The Nine Tailors' tip and when next I am shopping the thrift stores I'll keep my eye open for a copy.
21TadAD
>20 BeesleSR:: Have you read the books with Harriet in them? If not, you should give them a try at some point. Gaudy Night is the culmination of Sayers in many opinions, including mine. However, unlike the non-Harriet books, which can be read in any order, the four with Harriet should be read: Strong Poison, Have His Carcase, Gaudy Night and Busman's Honeymoon.
22pamelad
BeesleSR, if you haven't read these Sayers books already, you are to be envied. Happy reading.
TadAD, I enjoyed the first three Harriet Vane books, but was annoyed by Busman's Honeymoon. Too much romance, not enough plot.
TadAD, I enjoyed the first three Harriet Vane books, but was annoyed by Busman's Honeymoon. Too much romance, not enough plot.
24TadAD
>22 pamelad:: pamelad, I was so smitten by that point that I didn't care. :-)
25QuentinTom
Did you ever see the Talking Heads monologues done for TV? Julie Waters did one, about the ageing porn star. Maggie Smith was another one, about the spinster who falls in love with an Indian waiter at her local curry house. I love the way Bennett played around with revealing and concealing information in those. They were very clever, and superbly acted.
26BeesleSR
I would love to watch the Televised 'Talking Heads' monologues. I will check with the Seattle Public Libraries to see if they have a copy on DVD (I can put it on hold for when I visit this summer), alternately I could keep my fingers crossed and see if I can't find a copy in Bangkok the next time I pass through. I love the casting choice for these monlogues, the audio version which I have listened to contains as much emotional information in the pauses as it does in the actual dialogue and that's without the visuals; or rather the pauses are so well framed with various dialogue that I felt the weight of what was being 'unsaid'.
27QuentinTom
Maybe they are using the same cast. I think Celia Imrie did one as well. This was 15 years ago, so my memory is kind of vague.
28BeesleSR
"The House Of The Spirits"
by
Isabel Allende
In a land of repression magic is a fantasy of release, and the past offers more scope for the imagination than the all too grim present; this story “The House Of The Spirits” is an historical fiction whose narrative present lies in Pinochet’s Chile (referred to as a fictional S. American Country), and so the magic is richest at the beginning of the epic tale when Clara’s Uncle fly’s away on a mechanical bird (built from a kit acquired on his travels). Then as the generations lead toward revolution and coup, it is reality that starkly depicts violence and political savagery. I think this is where the power of the book lies for me; a world full of spirit, vibrant living beings creatively expressing them selves eventually locking into the rigid grip of survival when Alba is detained and tortured. It is as if I have gone from a bucolic world through Dante’s circles to the deepest most frozen state, and then, with relief, back out to something more like a world I can recognize.
The House of the Title is the family home, it is also a metaphor that contains the artists, poets, and politicians of Chile. The patriarch has anger management problems and the matriarch has ‘magical’ (of the medium variety) powers. The bad are bad and the good are good. The black and white of the books characterizations was not absolute but like a good graphic novel sketched a bold story that was softened with understanding. The most heinous crimes of the ‘Patron’ were not evil, they were rather the actions of a lost and angry three year old throwing tantrums. This is the impression I formed and the feeling I finally left the book with was very much influenced by this impression. I left with a sense of hope and a feeling of mature nurturing love.
by
Isabel Allende
In a land of repression magic is a fantasy of release, and the past offers more scope for the imagination than the all too grim present; this story “The House Of The Spirits” is an historical fiction whose narrative present lies in Pinochet’s Chile (referred to as a fictional S. American Country), and so the magic is richest at the beginning of the epic tale when Clara’s Uncle fly’s away on a mechanical bird (built from a kit acquired on his travels). Then as the generations lead toward revolution and coup, it is reality that starkly depicts violence and political savagery. I think this is where the power of the book lies for me; a world full of spirit, vibrant living beings creatively expressing them selves eventually locking into the rigid grip of survival when Alba is detained and tortured. It is as if I have gone from a bucolic world through Dante’s circles to the deepest most frozen state, and then, with relief, back out to something more like a world I can recognize.
The House of the Title is the family home, it is also a metaphor that contains the artists, poets, and politicians of Chile. The patriarch has anger management problems and the matriarch has ‘magical’ (of the medium variety) powers. The bad are bad and the good are good. The black and white of the books characterizations was not absolute but like a good graphic novel sketched a bold story that was softened with understanding. The most heinous crimes of the ‘Patron’ were not evil, they were rather the actions of a lost and angry three year old throwing tantrums. This is the impression I formed and the feeling I finally left the book with was very much influenced by this impression. I left with a sense of hope and a feeling of mature nurturing love.
29BeesleSR
The Crucible
By
Arthur Miller
After reading the second act one evening last week I took a nap only to wake with a dark shudderess nightmare hanging from the ceiling above me. I should have known better and mixed my Puritans with a little Walt Disney before closing my conscious mind down; as it was the horror of a witch hunt in 1692 Salem had free rein to scare the dickens out of me.
Since then I have followed John Procter’s path through to the end of the play and as pretty much every High School Student knows, there is no happy ending.
When the New York Times Reviewer Brooks Atkinson first watched The Crucible in 1953 he found it good but not as good as Miller’s ‘Death Of A Salesman’. Interestingly one of Mr. Atkinson’s personal quotes by which he is remembered is: “People everywhere enjoy believing things that they know are not true. It spares them the ordeal of thinking for themselves and taking responsibility for what they know.” In light of what I have just encountered reading ‘The Crucible’ I don’t wonder if it made more of an impression on Brooks Atkinson than he realized.
By
Arthur Miller
After reading the second act one evening last week I took a nap only to wake with a dark shudderess nightmare hanging from the ceiling above me. I should have known better and mixed my Puritans with a little Walt Disney before closing my conscious mind down; as it was the horror of a witch hunt in 1692 Salem had free rein to scare the dickens out of me.
Since then I have followed John Procter’s path through to the end of the play and as pretty much every High School Student knows, there is no happy ending.
When the New York Times Reviewer Brooks Atkinson first watched The Crucible in 1953 he found it good but not as good as Miller’s ‘Death Of A Salesman’. Interestingly one of Mr. Atkinson’s personal quotes by which he is remembered is: “People everywhere enjoy believing things that they know are not true. It spares them the ordeal of thinking for themselves and taking responsibility for what they know.” In light of what I have just encountered reading ‘The Crucible’ I don’t wonder if it made more of an impression on Brooks Atkinson than he realized.
30QuentinTom
Thanks for those two reviews. I have always avoided Allende (I don't know why, I have a thing against South American magical realism), but your review tempted me to try it, when I finish my Russian exile, of course.
The Crucible is a modern masterpiece. Every production I have ever seen -high school, Taiwanese students, Michael Gambon in London- has always knocked me for six.
The Crucible is a modern masterpiece. Every production I have ever seen -high school, Taiwanese students, Michael Gambon in London- has always knocked me for six.
31Fullmoonblue
Good reviews. After reading The House of the Spirits (for school, had to) I went on to read another of Allende's novels, Of Love and Shadows, and her autobiographical/memoirish piece Paula. Both were pretty good, and I think I may have enjoyed them even more than Spirits, actually.
32BeesleSR
The House Of Mirth
By
Edith Wharton
This is my first Edith Wharton novel and a choice made randomly using Pi and the ‘1001 books to read before you die’ list. The style was reminiscent of Henry James, in part I think because the period was turn of the century (1900) and the people were East Coast aristocracy. Within the society of the wealthy unwritten rules form a structure that is both personally malleable and rigidly wielded by people playing the ‘game’. The more money you have the more power you possess and with wit that power allows one to construct a suitable perspective, to in fact construct the new reality. The followers of one’s social circle adapt to the new reality and if they wish to maintain their own position they unquestioningly adhere to the unwritten directions of the societal matriarch.
Lily Bart is the lead character, a tragic heroine, or rather a tragic non-heroine. She has great intelligence, tremendous beauty (a currency all its own), but no family wealth to speak of (funds are limited). However, because of her family name she is in the circle and very capable of acquiring power through marriage. The cost of playing this game is hideously unreasonable from my position as the reader looking on; but Lily Bart rationalizes her motives, assesses her situation financially, knows what life beyond the pale would be like materially, and manipulates the men with money either openly or covertly. But when it comes to the crunch she cannot live with the loss of integrity such an alliance would bring, neither can she stomach the disgust with which she experiences ‘intimacy’ with any of the prospective partners. Without power she is vulnerable. She is also very much alone and the longer she plays the role she has chosen the further from true emotionally intimacy she gets.
Inexorably the story leads incrementally to a moment when Lily Bart is closed out of society. Her vulnerability is utilized by those with power to their own ends and the motif of death played out both metaphorically, symbolically, and dramatically.
Gender issues abound in this novel and being a man is a far easier ride than being a woman so I imagine the feminists of the early 21st century might well be shaking their fists at the injustice that compacts Lily Bart’s choices to zero, ironically the male lead ‘Lawrence Seldon’ is the one who is left to feel the greatest loss in the comfort of his upper middle class existence he will never be with his soul mate, he too is bereft of emotional intimacy.
By
Edith Wharton
This is my first Edith Wharton novel and a choice made randomly using Pi and the ‘1001 books to read before you die’ list. The style was reminiscent of Henry James, in part I think because the period was turn of the century (1900) and the people were East Coast aristocracy. Within the society of the wealthy unwritten rules form a structure that is both personally malleable and rigidly wielded by people playing the ‘game’. The more money you have the more power you possess and with wit that power allows one to construct a suitable perspective, to in fact construct the new reality. The followers of one’s social circle adapt to the new reality and if they wish to maintain their own position they unquestioningly adhere to the unwritten directions of the societal matriarch.
Lily Bart is the lead character, a tragic heroine, or rather a tragic non-heroine. She has great intelligence, tremendous beauty (a currency all its own), but no family wealth to speak of (funds are limited). However, because of her family name she is in the circle and very capable of acquiring power through marriage. The cost of playing this game is hideously unreasonable from my position as the reader looking on; but Lily Bart rationalizes her motives, assesses her situation financially, knows what life beyond the pale would be like materially, and manipulates the men with money either openly or covertly. But when it comes to the crunch she cannot live with the loss of integrity such an alliance would bring, neither can she stomach the disgust with which she experiences ‘intimacy’ with any of the prospective partners. Without power she is vulnerable. She is also very much alone and the longer she plays the role she has chosen the further from true emotionally intimacy she gets.
Inexorably the story leads incrementally to a moment when Lily Bart is closed out of society. Her vulnerability is utilized by those with power to their own ends and the motif of death played out both metaphorically, symbolically, and dramatically.
Gender issues abound in this novel and being a man is a far easier ride than being a woman so I imagine the feminists of the early 21st century might well be shaking their fists at the injustice that compacts Lily Bart’s choices to zero, ironically the male lead ‘Lawrence Seldon’ is the one who is left to feel the greatest loss in the comfort of his upper middle class existence he will never be with his soul mate, he too is bereft of emotional intimacy.
33BeesleSR
>30 QuentinTom: and >31 Fullmoonblue: Thanks for the feedback. I have always avoided Allende as well. I never liked the book cover and suspected it was a 'chick flick'; a good 'chick flick' perhaps but... So I presumed I'd never get round to picking it up. But I was inspired by the 888 group (now the 999 group) to invent 8 categories and read 8 books in each of those categories. (The other 8 is because this was supposed to happen in 2008). One of my categories is 'Books randomly chosen from the 1001 books to read before you die list' category. I generated some random 3 digit numbers and Isabel Allende's 'The House of the Spirits' popped up 2nd. Oddly Edith Wharton's 'The House Of Mirth' was the third book I randomly picked. The whole idea of randomly picking books was to make myself read novels I might otherwise never consciously choose. Right now I am very glad to have maintained my commitment and actually started through the list! Another category is 'Books my wife recommends', perennially her recommendation has been the kiss of death, any book I believe I am expected to read I shut down to. But I have read one from her list and am now putting off the second so there's improvement.
34QuentinTom
Felicitous choices then! Looking forward to seeing what comes up next in the numbers game!
35BeesleSR
Jeeve’s In The Offing
By
P.G. Wodehouse
A little light relief to polish up the old brass of a long w. end. Indefatigable spirits pepped up, tonic administered most invigoratingly don’t you know.
I could try and go on in the same vein but that might prove tiresome; Jeeve’s and Wooster provide one with the most entertaining and creative similes I know of anywhere. Barrel loads of original comparisons, its one delightful sentence after another.
I used to watch ‘Black Adder’ in part because the insults were brilliant and prolonged, a king of gaudy vocal art that balanced high performance with eloquent crudity. Then there was ‘Red Dwarf’ with the unforgettable ‘Smeg-Head’ but before all “Televisual Feasts” (Name the British Comedy from the 70’s) of this kind there was Jeeve’s and Wooster. I am sure P.G. Wodehouse did for the Twenties Readership what Rowan Atkinson and Company did for the Sitters and watchers of Eighties TV. I do know that my Mother-In-Law will appreciate Jeeve’s but find ‘Black Adder’ tediously unpleasant so some things have definitely changed.
Tally Ho!
By
P.G. Wodehouse
A little light relief to polish up the old brass of a long w. end. Indefatigable spirits pepped up, tonic administered most invigoratingly don’t you know.
I could try and go on in the same vein but that might prove tiresome; Jeeve’s and Wooster provide one with the most entertaining and creative similes I know of anywhere. Barrel loads of original comparisons, its one delightful sentence after another.
I used to watch ‘Black Adder’ in part because the insults were brilliant and prolonged, a king of gaudy vocal art that balanced high performance with eloquent crudity. Then there was ‘Red Dwarf’ with the unforgettable ‘Smeg-Head’ but before all “Televisual Feasts” (Name the British Comedy from the 70’s) of this kind there was Jeeve’s and Wooster. I am sure P.G. Wodehouse did for the Twenties Readership what Rowan Atkinson and Company did for the Sitters and watchers of Eighties TV. I do know that my Mother-In-Law will appreciate Jeeve’s but find ‘Black Adder’ tediously unpleasant so some things have definitely changed.
Tally Ho!
36BeesleSR
The Great Gatsby
By
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Believe it or not I have never read ‘The Great Gatsby’. Since the time I moved to America in 1989 I have heard surprise regarding this omission in my reading log more frequently than any other. I have not read ‘War and Peace’ but this (usually) does not even invoke a shrug; but the Great Gatsby! Conversation stops. So over Christmas I bought a Penguin Edition printed on 100% recycled paper and put it in my ‘carry-on’ to bring back to Yangon. After finishing Jeeve’s this weekend I lay next to the pool at the American Club, ordered a Lime and Soda and started in on the Long Island Scene. Need I say more? The writing is fluid, unassuming and utterly brilliant, the description of the party scene’s unforgettable, and the mystery is dark and luscious, the wealth sparkling. This foil to an emotional poverty evokes a poignant irony that plays out tragically.
It was only last week that I was reading ‘The House Of Mirth’ and clearly moving on twenty years has changed the social landscape on the west coast, the Nouveau rich are here in Gatsby in abundance, Gatsby himself needs ‘connections’ more than he requires a family name. Still the unwritten rules underlie the fabric of relationships here just as they had in Edith Whartons portrayal from 1905 it is just that people spend more time getting drunk and having a really fun time and you know what that can do to formality. (I am clearly brain popping thoughts as they occur to me here and this spontaneous reflection should in no way be read as careful analysis!)
In both ‘The House Of Mirth’ and ‘The Great Gatsby’ death closes the scene with surviving characters left to ponder their sense of loss. Personally I think ‘The House Of Mirth’ is more courageous but ‘The Great Gatsby’ has the better writing.
Well I started on ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ on Sunday afternoon so you won’t be hearing from me for a week or two. Isn’t Fyodor Pavlovich a proper bastard? The sooner he meets his demise the better. I was thinking about this Russian adventure; here I am in Yangon in Burma, how would I travel (in a timely appropriate fashion) Petersburg way? Clearly I can’t climb aboard a Troika until I have entered Russia. Perhaps I might begin with J.H. Williams and travel by Elephant across into Assam, but then what?
By
F. Scott Fitzgerald
Believe it or not I have never read ‘The Great Gatsby’. Since the time I moved to America in 1989 I have heard surprise regarding this omission in my reading log more frequently than any other. I have not read ‘War and Peace’ but this (usually) does not even invoke a shrug; but the Great Gatsby! Conversation stops. So over Christmas I bought a Penguin Edition printed on 100% recycled paper and put it in my ‘carry-on’ to bring back to Yangon. After finishing Jeeve’s this weekend I lay next to the pool at the American Club, ordered a Lime and Soda and started in on the Long Island Scene. Need I say more? The writing is fluid, unassuming and utterly brilliant, the description of the party scene’s unforgettable, and the mystery is dark and luscious, the wealth sparkling. This foil to an emotional poverty evokes a poignant irony that plays out tragically.
It was only last week that I was reading ‘The House Of Mirth’ and clearly moving on twenty years has changed the social landscape on the west coast, the Nouveau rich are here in Gatsby in abundance, Gatsby himself needs ‘connections’ more than he requires a family name. Still the unwritten rules underlie the fabric of relationships here just as they had in Edith Whartons portrayal from 1905 it is just that people spend more time getting drunk and having a really fun time and you know what that can do to formality. (I am clearly brain popping thoughts as they occur to me here and this spontaneous reflection should in no way be read as careful analysis!)
In both ‘The House Of Mirth’ and ‘The Great Gatsby’ death closes the scene with surviving characters left to ponder their sense of loss. Personally I think ‘The House Of Mirth’ is more courageous but ‘The Great Gatsby’ has the better writing.
Well I started on ‘The Brothers Karamazov’ on Sunday afternoon so you won’t be hearing from me for a week or two. Isn’t Fyodor Pavlovich a proper bastard? The sooner he meets his demise the better. I was thinking about this Russian adventure; here I am in Yangon in Burma, how would I travel (in a timely appropriate fashion) Petersburg way? Clearly I can’t climb aboard a Troika until I have entered Russia. Perhaps I might begin with J.H. Williams and travel by Elephant across into Assam, but then what?
37avaland
>32 BeesleSR: nice writeup of The House of Mirth, Sean. I don't think I could bear to read it again, so this is a nice revisit.
38QuentinTom
nice comparison Sean. And good on you for owning up to canonical literature that you haven't yet read. I'm sure many of us would have quite a few skeletons in our closets.
Me, for example, I have also never read Gatsby, although I have read other Fitzgerald (and War and Peace -twice, which I completely recommend).
Now let me see how can we get you out of Burma and into Russia. mmmm how about once you in Assam, try some Empson, that will get you to China, from China, it's an easy leap (pick any old communist) to Russia. Bingo!
I'll have a troika waiting for you at the border.
Me, for example, I have also never read Gatsby, although I have read other Fitzgerald (and War and Peace -twice, which I completely recommend).
Now let me see how can we get you out of Burma and into Russia. mmmm how about once you in Assam, try some Empson, that will get you to China, from China, it's an easy leap (pick any old communist) to Russia. Bingo!
I'll have a troika waiting for you at the border.
41QuentinTom
Columbia?
42BeesleSR
Now hang on a minute, let us get our bearings here. I am in Rangoon in Burma and I would rather avoid sea travel as my constitution is a little delicate when subjected to cyclic undulation of the marine variety. This leaves me with a sojourn via the hills and valleys, mountains and plateaus of (I believe) India, or China, The Middle East, and Southern Russia, or a combination of various nations within those general regions. Central Europe could be quite stimulating, I will definitely make that a consideration.
I think I would appreciate an ascetic that excluded the more modern transportation alternatives, trains are quite fast enough and I do believe that taking a journey on anything exceeding sixty mile per hour is really quite bad for ones health.
Right I am breaking out a map and flicking through my reference booklet to see who I might contact. This Empson fellow? Is he the sort one might want to travel with?
I think I would appreciate an ascetic that excluded the more modern transportation alternatives, trains are quite fast enough and I do believe that taking a journey on anything exceeding sixty mile per hour is really quite bad for ones health.
Right I am breaking out a map and flicking through my reference booklet to see who I might contact. This Empson fellow? Is he the sort one might want to travel with?
44BeesleSR
So after ten days of virtually no internet there is now a trickle of connectivity in the mornings. Hopefully this will be fixed this weekend when the submarine cable to Singapore is repaired. I am making my literary travels towards St. Petersburg but am still stuck in Assam trying to link up with an author heading west, but in the meanwhile I have immersed myself in The Brothers Karamazov. So to date this is my experience:
Reading The Brothers Karamazov (So Far)
by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Not so long ago I watched a ‘Scientific American’ show called “Animal Einstein’s” which was hosted by Alan Alda. In one segment of the program Alan Alda traveled across to a small Island with some behavioral researchers to observe Rhesus monkeys. The Scientists set up a small screen and back drop (just a foot high); they attracted the attention of a monkey then placed first one apple slice followed by another behind the screen as the monkey watched. Then the screen was lifted and abracadabra only one slice can be seen. The monkey stares and stares; in close up you can pretty much see the brain in top gear. I now know what that sensation is like, I empathize with Mr. Rhesus. Dostoyevsky constructs a scene and I clearly see what is going on, he then lifts the ‘screen’ and all is not as it appeared, two apples are really only one. After staring at the page for a while I reread to look for clues to the transformation and sure enough it all works, I find the screen and change my reader’s perspective. But for a few moments there I was back on the Island with the monkeys. (Incidentally the ‘staring test’ is a well established indicator of cognitive recognition; it has been used in examining developmental stages in human babies.)
The other surprising turn of events in reading TBK is that Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov. (the Father) is not the utter bastard I took him to be. In fact he has more sincerity than many of the characters. It is the hypocrisy of others that he is massively sensitive to and cannot adequately respond to. He is like a large house of mirrors with the hypocrisy flexing his reflective surface and making the images he throws back at people more and more contorted. When he is with his son Alyosha the mirror calms to the still sanity of unassuming love. I think it is this mirroring effect that Dostoyevsky plays with to produce the counter intuitive moments I experience as I follow the story.
Towards the middle section of the book there is a long account of the life of the Monk Zosima. While reading through this biographical feature I began to recollect ‘Moby Dick’ in the middle of which Herman Melville starts in on an account of the varieties of Whales that the sailors encountered. I couldn’t help my self; I began to regard the descriptions of life as a monk and the various types of monk that Zosima encounters as Russian Whales of the spiritual seas Dostoyevsky is sailing. (Herman Melville was published in 1851; I wonder if Dostoyevsky read Moby Dick?)
Reading The Brothers Karamazov (So Far)
by Fyodor Dostoyevsky
Not so long ago I watched a ‘Scientific American’ show called “Animal Einstein’s” which was hosted by Alan Alda. In one segment of the program Alan Alda traveled across to a small Island with some behavioral researchers to observe Rhesus monkeys. The Scientists set up a small screen and back drop (just a foot high); they attracted the attention of a monkey then placed first one apple slice followed by another behind the screen as the monkey watched. Then the screen was lifted and abracadabra only one slice can be seen. The monkey stares and stares; in close up you can pretty much see the brain in top gear. I now know what that sensation is like, I empathize with Mr. Rhesus. Dostoyevsky constructs a scene and I clearly see what is going on, he then lifts the ‘screen’ and all is not as it appeared, two apples are really only one. After staring at the page for a while I reread to look for clues to the transformation and sure enough it all works, I find the screen and change my reader’s perspective. But for a few moments there I was back on the Island with the monkeys. (Incidentally the ‘staring test’ is a well established indicator of cognitive recognition; it has been used in examining developmental stages in human babies.)
The other surprising turn of events in reading TBK is that Fyodor Pavlovich Karamazov. (the Father) is not the utter bastard I took him to be. In fact he has more sincerity than many of the characters. It is the hypocrisy of others that he is massively sensitive to and cannot adequately respond to. He is like a large house of mirrors with the hypocrisy flexing his reflective surface and making the images he throws back at people more and more contorted. When he is with his son Alyosha the mirror calms to the still sanity of unassuming love. I think it is this mirroring effect that Dostoyevsky plays with to produce the counter intuitive moments I experience as I follow the story.
Towards the middle section of the book there is a long account of the life of the Monk Zosima. While reading through this biographical feature I began to recollect ‘Moby Dick’ in the middle of which Herman Melville starts in on an account of the varieties of Whales that the sailors encountered. I couldn’t help my self; I began to regard the descriptions of life as a monk and the various types of monk that Zosima encounters as Russian Whales of the spiritual seas Dostoyevsky is sailing. (Herman Melville was published in 1851; I wonder if Dostoyevsky read Moby Dick?)
45urania1
BeesleSR,
I enjoyed your review of The House of Mirth immensely. Of all Wharton's novels, I find this one the most wrenching. In fact, it is the only Wharton novel I have not read in its entirety (although I know what happens). I have to stop reading when Lily's degradation approaches its apex. I simply skip to the end and weep. You should read Wharton's Custom of the Country, a novel in which a social-climbing gold digger does play her cards well. The metaphors of markets and currency run strongly through this novel as well as through The House of Mirth.
I enjoyed your review of The House of Mirth immensely. Of all Wharton's novels, I find this one the most wrenching. In fact, it is the only Wharton novel I have not read in its entirety (although I know what happens). I have to stop reading when Lily's degradation approaches its apex. I simply skip to the end and weep. You should read Wharton's Custom of the Country, a novel in which a social-climbing gold digger does play her cards well. The metaphors of markets and currency run strongly through this novel as well as through The House of Mirth.
46arubabookwoman
An interesting Wharton I read last year, and had not previously heard much about is The Children. I kept thinking of Lolita and Humbert Humbert although the sense of The Children is of a much earlier time period. It also highlights the common sense of the children vis a vis their elders.
47janemarieprice
I enjoyed your comparison of Gatsby and House of Mirth. It has gotten me on a new project. I want to look back at things I have read by when they were written. I am always amazed by how different books feel in modernity (or lack thereof) when they were written with a few years of on another.
I had not realized how much a part of the U.S. canon Gatsby was, but I suppose it makes sense. I certainly had it assigned in high school as did most people I know.
I had not realized how much a part of the U.S. canon Gatsby was, but I suppose it makes sense. I certainly had it assigned in high school as did most people I know.
48QuentinTom
Where are you? Are you lost in the Himalaya? Do you need a rescue party?
49BeesleSR
Well not so much the Himalaya as a week on the beach and three weeks of tumultuous weather on the seas of ISY. I am back without a rescue party (thank you for the offer tomcatMurr) but it was touch and go for a while in there. It took me over two weeks to read Lawrence Durrell's 'Clea'; enough said about my concentration.
50BeesleSR
The Alexandria Quartet
By
Lawrence Durrell
I spent my April break reading the first three books that make up the Alexandria Quartet and then spent the following two weeks immersed in School ‘work’ (the details are a painful mix of politics and emotional upheaval; let’s just say the Director unexpectedly fired the Upper School Principal and had him escorted by guards off of campus on a Monday Morning) and “Clea” the fourth book was experienced in five and ten page snatches.
Some friends had raved about this series of books, in fact two of them had once taken a job in Alexandria because they loved the book (the job was a disaster and they left) so I did some research as I read through “Clea”. Lawrence Durrell had four wives and I imagine his experience of love in relation to these four women must have colored his work strongly. When I finished the first book “Justine” I began the second “Balthazar” only to immediately discover that I had in fact not finished “Justine”. True I had read the book but to read the book is not to finish the novel; this is because my whole experience shifted as my perspective changed when I had the new information provided through Balthazar’s notes in the second book. This stimulating disorientation occurred once more when I started in on the third book “Mountolive” and finally the story played out with a sense of completion as the fourth book unfolded the lives of the characters. Lawrence Durrell has said that the four books are intended to mirror Einstein’s Theory of Relativity in that the first three represent the spatial dimensions and the fourth the dimension of time. I find this a fair way to think about the series as ones perspective changes as you move into a new dimension and ones movement as a reader relative to the written page produces an expansion (or dilation) in what it is you are observing. Quite a canny trick.
The visual quality of the images conjured by Lawrence Durrell’s prose reminded me of a watercolor painting, the boundaries were softened and colors mixed at many of the edges. The whole was a potent evocation of the city of Alexandria and the surrounding desert; the environment has as strong a presence as the people who inhabit it, and their movement through it becomes electrifying as all the dimensions ripple poetically upon the mind. This is the kind of book that does strange things when you start to fall asleep as you read it; the dream and the story resonating and adding overtones you would never get if you were totally conscious.
Finally I am not sure that I enjoyed these books as much as I might. I think I missed elements of the story in Justine and felt from then on as though I didn’t really understand the relationship between Darley and Justine. Of course given what I have read since ‘Justine’ perhaps I wasn’t supposed to fully understand the relationship, clearly it wasn’t what it appeared to be. If I ever get back to reading this quartet again I shall be looking for clues in a Sherlockian manner.
By
Lawrence Durrell
I spent my April break reading the first three books that make up the Alexandria Quartet and then spent the following two weeks immersed in School ‘work’ (the details are a painful mix of politics and emotional upheaval; let’s just say the Director unexpectedly fired the Upper School Principal and had him escorted by guards off of campus on a Monday Morning) and “Clea” the fourth book was experienced in five and ten page snatches.
Some friends had raved about this series of books, in fact two of them had once taken a job in Alexandria because they loved the book (the job was a disaster and they left) so I did some research as I read through “Clea”. Lawrence Durrell had four wives and I imagine his experience of love in relation to these four women must have colored his work strongly. When I finished the first book “Justine” I began the second “Balthazar” only to immediately discover that I had in fact not finished “Justine”. True I had read the book but to read the book is not to finish the novel; this is because my whole experience shifted as my perspective changed when I had the new information provided through Balthazar’s notes in the second book. This stimulating disorientation occurred once more when I started in on the third book “Mountolive” and finally the story played out with a sense of completion as the fourth book unfolded the lives of the characters. Lawrence Durrell has said that the four books are intended to mirror Einstein’s Theory of Relativity in that the first three represent the spatial dimensions and the fourth the dimension of time. I find this a fair way to think about the series as ones perspective changes as you move into a new dimension and ones movement as a reader relative to the written page produces an expansion (or dilation) in what it is you are observing. Quite a canny trick.
The visual quality of the images conjured by Lawrence Durrell’s prose reminded me of a watercolor painting, the boundaries were softened and colors mixed at many of the edges. The whole was a potent evocation of the city of Alexandria and the surrounding desert; the environment has as strong a presence as the people who inhabit it, and their movement through it becomes electrifying as all the dimensions ripple poetically upon the mind. This is the kind of book that does strange things when you start to fall asleep as you read it; the dream and the story resonating and adding overtones you would never get if you were totally conscious.
Finally I am not sure that I enjoyed these books as much as I might. I think I missed elements of the story in Justine and felt from then on as though I didn’t really understand the relationship between Darley and Justine. Of course given what I have read since ‘Justine’ perhaps I wasn’t supposed to fully understand the relationship, clearly it wasn’t what it appeared to be. If I ever get back to reading this quartet again I shall be looking for clues in a Sherlockian manner.
51BeesleSR
The Alexandria Quartet
By
Lawrence Durrell
I spent my April break reading the first three books that make up the Alexandria Quartet and then spent the following two weeks immersed in School ‘work’ (the details are a painful mix of politics and emotional upheaval; let’s just say the Director unexpectedly fired the Upper School Principal and had him escorted by guards off of campus on a Monday Morning) and “Clea” the fourth book was experienced in five and ten page snatches.
Some friends had raved about this series of books, in fact two of them had once taken a job in Alexandria because they loved the book (the job was a disaster and they left) so I did some research as I read through “Clea”. Lawrence Durrell had four wives and I imagine his experience of love in relation to these four women must have colored his work strongly. When I finished the first book “Justine” I began the second “Balthazar” only to immediately discover that I had in fact not finished “Justine”. True I had read the book but to read the book is not to finish the novel; this is because my whole experience shifted as my perspective changed when I had the new information provided through Balthazar’s notes in the second book. This stimulating disorientation occurred once more when I started in on the third book “Mountolive” and finally the story played out with a sense of completion as the fourth book unfolded the lives of the characters. Lawrence Durrell has said that the four books are intended to mirror Einstein’s Theory of Relativity in that the first three represent the spatial dimensions and the fourth the dimension of time. I find this a fair way to think about the series as ones perspective changes as you move into a new dimension and ones movement as a reader relative to the written page produces an expansion (or dilation) in what it is you are observing. Quite a canny trick.
The visual quality of the images conjured by Lawrence Durrell’s prose reminded me of a watercolor painting, the boundaries were softened and colors mixed at many of the edges. The whole was a potent evocation of the city of Alexandria and the surrounding desert; the environment has as strong a presence as the people who inhabit it, and their movement through it becomes electrifying as all the dimensions ripple poetically upon the mind. This is the kind of book that does strange things when you start to fall asleep as you read it; the dream and the story resonating and adding overtones you would never get if you were totally conscious.
Finally I am not sure that I enjoyed these books as much as I might. I think I missed elements of the story in Justine and felt from then on as though I didn’t really understand the relationship between Darley and Justine. Of course given what I have read since ‘Justine’ perhaps I wasn’t supposed to fully understand the relationship, clearly it wasn’t what it appeared to be. If I ever get back to reading this quartet again I shall be looking for clues in a Sherlockian manner.
By
Lawrence Durrell
I spent my April break reading the first three books that make up the Alexandria Quartet and then spent the following two weeks immersed in School ‘work’ (the details are a painful mix of politics and emotional upheaval; let’s just say the Director unexpectedly fired the Upper School Principal and had him escorted by guards off of campus on a Monday Morning) and “Clea” the fourth book was experienced in five and ten page snatches.
Some friends had raved about this series of books, in fact two of them had once taken a job in Alexandria because they loved the book (the job was a disaster and they left) so I did some research as I read through “Clea”. Lawrence Durrell had four wives and I imagine his experience of love in relation to these four women must have colored his work strongly. When I finished the first book “Justine” I began the second “Balthazar” only to immediately discover that I had in fact not finished “Justine”. True I had read the book but to read the book is not to finish the novel; this is because my whole experience shifted as my perspective changed when I had the new information provided through Balthazar’s notes in the second book. This stimulating disorientation occurred once more when I started in on the third book “Mountolive” and finally the story played out with a sense of completion as the fourth book unfolded the lives of the characters. Lawrence Durrell has said that the four books are intended to mirror Einstein’s Theory of Relativity in that the first three represent the spatial dimensions and the fourth the dimension of time. I find this a fair way to think about the series as ones perspective changes as you move into a new dimension and ones movement as a reader relative to the written page produces an expansion (or dilation) in what it is you are observing. Quite a canny trick.
The visual quality of the images conjured by Lawrence Durrell’s prose reminded me of a watercolor painting, the boundaries were softened and colors mixed at many of the edges. The whole was a potent evocation of the city of Alexandria and the surrounding desert; the environment has as strong a presence as the people who inhabit it, and their movement through it becomes electrifying as all the dimensions ripple poetically upon the mind. This is the kind of book that does strange things when you start to fall asleep as you read it; the dream and the story resonating and adding overtones you would never get if you were totally conscious.
Finally I am not sure that I enjoyed these books as much as I might. I think I missed elements of the story in Justine and felt from then on as though I didn’t really understand the relationship between Darley and Justine. Of course given what I have read since ‘Justine’ perhaps I wasn’t supposed to fully understand the relationship, clearly it wasn’t what it appeared to be. If I ever get back to reading this quartet again I shall be looking for clues in a Sherlockian manner.
52BeesleSR
Coasting
By
Jonathan Raban
Skirting more like. Jonathan Raban skirts his relationship with his Father, the Falkland War of 1982, his relationship with Britain, and of course Britain itself as he ambles from port to port. It is a brilliant, brilliant outing capturing everything I remember of living in Britain as a young man at this time. Whether the impression Jonathan made upon me was heightened because I too (at the time) had removed myself from the main stream (I had taken off into the mountains of the Lake District, camping out on the Fells for a couple of weeks) and first dumbfounded learned of War with Argentina when hitching a ride South on the M6 and having the Lorry driver lean forward towards his Cabs radio enthusiastically wonder how the war was going as he turned the dial, (‘War’!? ‘What war?’)
Or whether Jonathan Raban simply nails the mood of the time with the tabloid headlines that sicken me even now recalling them from this reading, I don’t quite know, but his writing is effective in serving up time and place.
I feel oddly associated with this man I’ve never met. He left Britain and moved to Seattle (where he still resides) and I too left Britain in 1989 to move to Seattle where I was living up until last July. He clearly liked to step out of the daily trundling routine and leave the suburban paperweight that anchors ones progress; I hanker for uncertainty in the course I generally make. I also suspect that it is peculiarly British to ‘skirt’ the emotional, and I think ‘Coasting’ is an exploration of that experience as much as it is anything else.
I will definitely be buying more Jonathan Raban this summer.
By
Jonathan Raban
Skirting more like. Jonathan Raban skirts his relationship with his Father, the Falkland War of 1982, his relationship with Britain, and of course Britain itself as he ambles from port to port. It is a brilliant, brilliant outing capturing everything I remember of living in Britain as a young man at this time. Whether the impression Jonathan made upon me was heightened because I too (at the time) had removed myself from the main stream (I had taken off into the mountains of the Lake District, camping out on the Fells for a couple of weeks) and first dumbfounded learned of War with Argentina when hitching a ride South on the M6 and having the Lorry driver lean forward towards his Cabs radio enthusiastically wonder how the war was going as he turned the dial, (‘War’!? ‘What war?’)
Or whether Jonathan Raban simply nails the mood of the time with the tabloid headlines that sicken me even now recalling them from this reading, I don’t quite know, but his writing is effective in serving up time and place.
I feel oddly associated with this man I’ve never met. He left Britain and moved to Seattle (where he still resides) and I too left Britain in 1989 to move to Seattle where I was living up until last July. He clearly liked to step out of the daily trundling routine and leave the suburban paperweight that anchors ones progress; I hanker for uncertainty in the course I generally make. I also suspect that it is peculiarly British to ‘skirt’ the emotional, and I think ‘Coasting’ is an exploration of that experience as much as it is anything else.
I will definitely be buying more Jonathan Raban this summer.
53BeesleSR
A Short Walk In The Hindu Kush
By
Eric Newby
After reading Jonathan Raban’s book I was still very much in the mood for travel writing. Over Christmas I had picked up this book of Eric Newby’s in a charity shop in Boston, Lincolnshire because his ‘The Last Grain Race” had held me captivated for days and I yearned for more adventure. ASWITHK served up the goods. It begins in London with Eric telegraphing his friend Hugh to inquire as to whether he is up for a trip to the Hindu Kush (an expedition they had discussed along time previously), from this almost casual ‘why don’t we…’ the adventure grows, first with the two explorers taking a four day climbing class in North Wales and then with the obvious amateur technique of packing everything ‘just in case we need it’. Actually the whole stumbling progression in a car across Europe and the Middle East is a ‘duct tape and make do’ operation, I can only think that both Eric and Hugh were in fact highly talented individuals who could manage on a whim and a pray because they were quietly brilliant and very determined. The pair arrives in Afghanistan hire three horses and three local men and head off towards the mountain ‘Mir Samir’. Once again I am convinced that they must surely kill themselves in attempting this climb but of course I know that they don’t; as it turns out in reading Eric’s account of their attempt on this 20,000 foot mountain I am convinced that they were extraordinarily lucky not to meet a cold and gruesome end in tackling the gullies on this mountain in particular. I was as relieved as anyone when the pair finally stagger back into the civilized world, I felt like I had been holding my breath for much of the book. This is one expedition I would not have been signing up for but the reading of it made for the best armchair masochism I have experienced in quite some time.
By
Eric Newby
After reading Jonathan Raban’s book I was still very much in the mood for travel writing. Over Christmas I had picked up this book of Eric Newby’s in a charity shop in Boston, Lincolnshire because his ‘The Last Grain Race” had held me captivated for days and I yearned for more adventure. ASWITHK served up the goods. It begins in London with Eric telegraphing his friend Hugh to inquire as to whether he is up for a trip to the Hindu Kush (an expedition they had discussed along time previously), from this almost casual ‘why don’t we…’ the adventure grows, first with the two explorers taking a four day climbing class in North Wales and then with the obvious amateur technique of packing everything ‘just in case we need it’. Actually the whole stumbling progression in a car across Europe and the Middle East is a ‘duct tape and make do’ operation, I can only think that both Eric and Hugh were in fact highly talented individuals who could manage on a whim and a pray because they were quietly brilliant and very determined. The pair arrives in Afghanistan hire three horses and three local men and head off towards the mountain ‘Mir Samir’. Once again I am convinced that they must surely kill themselves in attempting this climb but of course I know that they don’t; as it turns out in reading Eric’s account of their attempt on this 20,000 foot mountain I am convinced that they were extraordinarily lucky not to meet a cold and gruesome end in tackling the gullies on this mountain in particular. I was as relieved as anyone when the pair finally stagger back into the civilized world, I felt like I had been holding my breath for much of the book. This is one expedition I would not have been signing up for but the reading of it made for the best armchair masochism I have experienced in quite some time.
54pamelad
BeesleSR,
In '86 a friend and I had our tickets booked to England, but Maggie invaded the Falklands so we flew into Amsterdam instead. I doubt that she noticed.
As another Jonathan Raban fan, I can recommend Hunting Mr Heartbreak in which Raban drifts around America, settling in out of the way places and making friends with his neighbours. I enjoyed Bad Land even more - the hard times of the small farmers who settled Montana and the Dakotas. Raban has sympathy for ordinary people.
Your school sounds far too interesting.
In '86 a friend and I had our tickets booked to England, but Maggie invaded the Falklands so we flew into Amsterdam instead. I doubt that she noticed.
As another Jonathan Raban fan, I can recommend Hunting Mr Heartbreak in which Raban drifts around America, settling in out of the way places and making friends with his neighbours. I enjoyed Bad Land even more - the hard times of the small farmers who settled Montana and the Dakotas. Raban has sympathy for ordinary people.
Your school sounds far too interesting.
55BeesleSR
Pamelad you would not believe how interesting our School is (for so many reasons) and this last semester is fit for a novelist. I am definitely going to buy more Jonathan Raban when I get back to Seattle this summer, in fact I shall see if he is doing any 'author talks' in the region while I'm there I'd love to hear what he has to say in person.
OK I think I'll go drink some Tea and see if the School Director has resigned yet.
OK I think I'll go drink some Tea and see if the School Director has resigned yet.
56BeesleSR
Knot’s and Crosses
By
Ian Rankin
This is a cracking good read. I was listening to one of numerous pod casts in the not so distant past and Ian Rankin caught my attention and never really lost it, the interviewer spoke of his enjoyment of the Inspector Rebus novels and the next thing I know I bump into ‘Knot’s and Crosses’ (the first in the Rebus series) on a sale pile and ‘Bobs your Uncle’ I have a new adventure a waiting me. Well on Sunday evening I began my first Ian Rankin novel, continued at breakfast, spent lunch in his company, slipped away before dinner for a quick session, and stayed up late for the finish. All in all a very satisfying read. The Inspector Rebus novels are as you know, or have guessed, of the crime writing genre, they are set in modern day Edinburgh (where Ian Rankin lives) and are peopled with a gritty mix of characters that partake of the whiskey and live the antithesis of the American dream. In this the first in the series the plot was well structured and the characters well developed, I found the dénouement believable because I was more than willing to suspend belief in the theatrical sense and I loved the clues. If you want to dabble in a little crime I think this is the best read you could get away with!
By
Ian Rankin
This is a cracking good read. I was listening to one of numerous pod casts in the not so distant past and Ian Rankin caught my attention and never really lost it, the interviewer spoke of his enjoyment of the Inspector Rebus novels and the next thing I know I bump into ‘Knot’s and Crosses’ (the first in the Rebus series) on a sale pile and ‘Bobs your Uncle’ I have a new adventure a waiting me. Well on Sunday evening I began my first Ian Rankin novel, continued at breakfast, spent lunch in his company, slipped away before dinner for a quick session, and stayed up late for the finish. All in all a very satisfying read. The Inspector Rebus novels are as you know, or have guessed, of the crime writing genre, they are set in modern day Edinburgh (where Ian Rankin lives) and are peopled with a gritty mix of characters that partake of the whiskey and live the antithesis of the American dream. In this the first in the series the plot was well structured and the characters well developed, I found the dénouement believable because I was more than willing to suspend belief in the theatrical sense and I loved the clues. If you want to dabble in a little crime I think this is the best read you could get away with!
57Jargoneer
>50 BeesleSR: - although he lives in Edinburgh, he wrote the first few novels in France. He said that he found it too difficult to live and work in the city, that the environment constrained him as a writer. When Rankin wrote Knots and Crosses he didn't see himself writing a crime novel but an exploration of evil - he was influenced by Muriel Spark, who he was writing his PhD dissertation on. (The second one is influenced of Stevenson's Jekyll and Hyde).
58rebeccanyc
I was interested to read your review of The Alexandria Quartet because I read it decades ago and loved it, but I think it is probably the kind of work that I should read again now that I'm older and have different perspectives on lots of things.
I also read some Eric Newby many years ago and enjoyed his books, particularly Love and War in the Appenines, which I bought in the English-language bookstore in Florence when I was visiting Italy, and On the Shores of the Mediterranean.
I also read some Eric Newby many years ago and enjoyed his books, particularly Love and War in the Appenines, which I bought in the English-language bookstore in Florence when I was visiting Italy, and On the Shores of the Mediterranean.
59avaland
>56 BeesleSR: I can testify to the addictiveness of Rankin's Rebus. I am a bit envious as you are at the beginning of your Rebus journey, because sadly, Rebus has retired now. I suspect Rebus would not have had such a long career if he were not a fictional character;-) I have been watching all the television adaptations also and it seems one included an interview with Rankin who said much of what Turner has mentioned in #57.
60BeesleSR
Right that's it. I am definitely seizing this 'addictive' opportunity. Heck I think I am going to get on Amazon.com and order the next in the Rebus series now so that it is waiting for me when I arrive. No TV adaptations until I have finished with the books though. I will also look for "Love and war In The Appenines" in the city thrift stores. (Rubbing hands with anticipation). What does this all say about me? I mean right now I am reading Flann O'Brien's 'The Poor Mouth' and I'm into it but what I really want to do is read Ian Rankin. It's a Rankin mood that is upon me.
61BeesleSR
The Poor Mouth
By
Flann O’Brien
As the introductory blurb says this is all potatoes, downpours, and fatalistic acceptance, a riotous parody on a way of describing ones life colloquially known as using ‘The Poor Mouth’, which means that you extenuate the poverty of your condition in order to seek economic advantage or sympathy. The story reminded me of the on going cultural joke that I grew up with where by some one would put on a ‘Yorkshire’ accent and exclaim ‘In my day… I had t’walk ten miles tut School and it were up hill both ways’. (A joke that would pop up when ever anyone was over emphasizing a hardship and always began with the words ‘In my day…’). Cultural victimization is pocked fun of throughout the story.
This parody is set in Ireland in what I imagine must be the thirties or earlier, the fictional village never sees the sun and it is always raining, the main character, Bonaparte O’Coonassa lives upon potatoes and milk and on acquiring a great deal of money is unable to imagine how it could conceivably improve his existence (and argues convincingly in support of that vision). In the back of his existence is the oppressive hand of what I took to be the British; a running conceit is that all the male characters answer to the name ‘Jams O’Donnell’, a name appointed at School as an initiation and obvious ‘brainwashing’ ruse to reestablish identity. Now upon reflection and rereading I notice that the School master has an Irish accent and the name anointed is Irish, the institutionalized naming ritual then suggests that the Irish have now taken over from the British and yet are still acting out the oppressor role. I suspect that here we encounter a case of post colonial trauma first hand in the essential struggle to answer the question “Who am I?”
When I was growing up in Coventry in the Seventies there was a horrible pub bombing the responsibility for which was claimed by the IRA. Several Irishman were arrested, placed on trial, and convicted. It is only recently that their innocence has been made clear and what is more and shamefully so, that the British authorities needed to prosecute some Irishmen for the crime and politically utilized these innocent men knowing that the evidence was not at all convincing (If I remember correctly the Irishmen were tortured and then made to sign confessions written by the Police). In ‘The Poor Mouth’ Bonaparte like his Father is wrongfully sentenced to 29 years in prison by the authorities in a cycle of victimization that continues even with the British gone (the trial proceeds in English which Bonaparte does not understand and so has no voice in) and eerily still carries resonance with me today.
Language, Identity, Ideology, Politics, and People, this short book covers a huge amount of ground in a very entertaining and highly creative manner.
By
Flann O’Brien
As the introductory blurb says this is all potatoes, downpours, and fatalistic acceptance, a riotous parody on a way of describing ones life colloquially known as using ‘The Poor Mouth’, which means that you extenuate the poverty of your condition in order to seek economic advantage or sympathy. The story reminded me of the on going cultural joke that I grew up with where by some one would put on a ‘Yorkshire’ accent and exclaim ‘In my day… I had t’walk ten miles tut School and it were up hill both ways’. (A joke that would pop up when ever anyone was over emphasizing a hardship and always began with the words ‘In my day…’). Cultural victimization is pocked fun of throughout the story.
This parody is set in Ireland in what I imagine must be the thirties or earlier, the fictional village never sees the sun and it is always raining, the main character, Bonaparte O’Coonassa lives upon potatoes and milk and on acquiring a great deal of money is unable to imagine how it could conceivably improve his existence (and argues convincingly in support of that vision). In the back of his existence is the oppressive hand of what I took to be the British; a running conceit is that all the male characters answer to the name ‘Jams O’Donnell’, a name appointed at School as an initiation and obvious ‘brainwashing’ ruse to reestablish identity. Now upon reflection and rereading I notice that the School master has an Irish accent and the name anointed is Irish, the institutionalized naming ritual then suggests that the Irish have now taken over from the British and yet are still acting out the oppressor role. I suspect that here we encounter a case of post colonial trauma first hand in the essential struggle to answer the question “Who am I?”
When I was growing up in Coventry in the Seventies there was a horrible pub bombing the responsibility for which was claimed by the IRA. Several Irishman were arrested, placed on trial, and convicted. It is only recently that their innocence has been made clear and what is more and shamefully so, that the British authorities needed to prosecute some Irishmen for the crime and politically utilized these innocent men knowing that the evidence was not at all convincing (If I remember correctly the Irishmen were tortured and then made to sign confessions written by the Police). In ‘The Poor Mouth’ Bonaparte like his Father is wrongfully sentenced to 29 years in prison by the authorities in a cycle of victimization that continues even with the British gone (the trial proceeds in English which Bonaparte does not understand and so has no voice in) and eerily still carries resonance with me today.
Language, Identity, Ideology, Politics, and People, this short book covers a huge amount of ground in a very entertaining and highly creative manner.
62avaland
>61 BeesleSR: The book sounds interesting, Sean. Love the anecdote about walking to school, we have a strangely similar story... (although the variant is being found in a shoebox on the side of the road).
63Jargoneer
>61 BeesleSR: - O'Brien is brilliant writer; very sharp and very funny. A few notes about The Pour Mouth - in Ireland it wasn't published under O'Brien (only the translation into English was) but under his comic newspaper identity of Myles na gCopaleen (although with slightly altered spelling). Under gCopaleen O'Nolan (his real name) satirised Irish culture for over 25 years. The Pour Mouth is a parody of Irish memoirs (prison, rural, etc) of the early part of the 20th century, satirising the Irishness of Irish culture - from all accounts it is savagely accurate.
I love this quote from his newspaper articles -
If you get the chance, try The Third Policeman - a brilliant combination of crime and bicycles, with the best footnotes in literature.
I love this quote from his newspaper articles -
In Donegal there are native speakers who know so many million words that it is a matter of pride with them never to use the same word twice in a life-time.
If you get the chance, try The Third Policeman - a brilliant combination of crime and bicycles, with the best footnotes in literature.
64QuentinTom
Sean,
I've been offline and busy with overground life for a while and have only just had time to catch up with your thread. Some really interesting reading! I enjoyed your review of Durrell very much. The Quartet was one of my favourite books as a young man, and it still has a special place in my affections. It does contain some marvelous writing, the arial attack on the harbour in 'Clea' being one of the highlights in my memory. I know there are many on LT who Poopooh Durrell, but I think he's great despite the obvious weirdness of some of his views.
The Last Grain Race has been on by wishlist for years. My mother raves about it.
I'm interested in the Flann O Brien. He wrote The Dalkey Archives, after which the independent press is named, as I'm sure you all know. I'll have to try the Third Policeman after jargoneer's recommendation.
Incidentally, there is a very good, very harrowing movie about the Guildford four, the Irish men and women who were locked up by the British for supposedly bombing a pub: In the name of the Father, starring Daniel Day Lewis. if you get the chance to see it, it's brilliant. A real punch in the face for the British and their famous justice system.
I've been offline and busy with overground life for a while and have only just had time to catch up with your thread. Some really interesting reading! I enjoyed your review of Durrell very much. The Quartet was one of my favourite books as a young man, and it still has a special place in my affections. It does contain some marvelous writing, the arial attack on the harbour in 'Clea' being one of the highlights in my memory. I know there are many on LT who Poopooh Durrell, but I think he's great despite the obvious weirdness of some of his views.
The Last Grain Race has been on by wishlist for years. My mother raves about it.
I'm interested in the Flann O Brien. He wrote The Dalkey Archives, after which the independent press is named, as I'm sure you all know. I'll have to try the Third Policeman after jargoneer's recommendation.
Incidentally, there is a very good, very harrowing movie about the Guildford four, the Irish men and women who were locked up by the British for supposedly bombing a pub: In the name of the Father, starring Daniel Day Lewis. if you get the chance to see it, it's brilliant. A real punch in the face for the British and their famous justice system.
65KimB
Just been reading and enjoying your reviews.
I read your reviews of two on my Mount TBR, House of Spirits and The Unbearable lightness of Being, with trepidation. I needn't have. Thank you for those wonderful reviews, they have only increased my anticipation.
I read your reviews of two on my Mount TBR, House of Spirits and The Unbearable lightness of Being, with trepidation. I needn't have. Thank you for those wonderful reviews, they have only increased my anticipation.
