Hux
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Posts posted by Hux
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On 1/22/2023 at 12:01 PM, Hux said:
Looks like I've won.
Agreed.
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Started 'Thief's Journal' by Jean Genet.
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69 (1987) Ryu Murakami
This was a very enjoyable read about a young man's coming-of-age in 1969. He organises a protest with his friends which includes barricading the school, graffiti-ing slogans on the walls, and leaving a turd on a desk. In the right company, he talks about the crimes happening in Vietnam, Marxist ideology, and liberation from the conservative norms. But in reality, he simply wants to look cool so he can impress a girl. In many ways, the book is a metaphor for all the performative left-wingism of early youth. And it's funny with it.
I wouldn't describe the book as anything heavyweight, in fact, you'll read through it very quickly, but it still contains some fun ideas and language. There are, understandably, a lot of pop culture references regarding the era, everything from the Beatles to Zeppelin, and Camus to Alain Delon etc. Plus, the ongoing Americanisation of Japanese culture. Ultimately however, the book is about youth, friendships, first loves, and so on. And the writing is very fluid and easy to digest with short chapters and humorous dialogue.
I enjoyed it a lot but would ultimately class it as a very light read.7/10
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Started '69' by Ryu Murakami.
By the way, didn't we used to have a monthly 'Your Book Activity'?
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House of Leaves (2000) Mark Z. Danielewski
This is a book I'd heard a lot of very positive things about. So it was a disappointment to discover how utterly banal and tedious it actually was. That's a bit harsh as the two stories in the book (for the most part) kept my attention. But taken as a whole, it was just so thoroughly underwhelming. To be fair, this kind of L.A garbage isn't what I usually read as it's always so painfully predictable and obviously designed for a specific audience. In summary, if you like American Psycho and Fight Club (plus Stephen King and all his contemporary juvenile mimics), you'll probably like this.
The (first) book is by a man named Zampanò who writes about The Navidson record which is a documentary film about a family who move into a weird house in Virginia where there are endless corridors and a spiral staircase that goes on forever but also doesn't (ooh spooky, right?). Meanwhile, the book Zampanò has written has been found by a man named Johnny Truant who writes footnotes at the bottom of the page (this is the second narrative). The story about the Navidson family moving into a creepy house is mildly diverting and fun. They hire expert explorers to investigate who end up being lost in the changing corridors for days while the leader loses his mind. Meanwhile, the footnotes provided by Truant (where he details his own life and mental health difficulties) is a kind of poundshop Bukowski narrative where he takes drugs, gets laid, and lives his atomised L.A life. To begin with, this grabbed my attention more than the main story but gradually, he becomes a somewhat peripheral character with his own equally banal offerings (mummy issues).
Then we have all the other footnotes and endless slew of fictional academic citations and annotations at the bottom of the page which (I assure you), you can entirely ignore. They are utterly worthless. Then we have the chapters with pointless notes written backwards or upside down (ooh spooky) and then page after page where it's just one word or one sentence (ooh, it represents the disjointed nature of the story, you see). No, it doesn't - it represents your stupidity. Meanwhile, we're supposed to accept Johnny as some kind of basic L.A drifter type who's a normal person and not very literate (hence he repeatedly writes 'could of' instead of 'could have' and thinks 'alot' is one word.' Five minutes later, however, he's writing sentences like... "The immolating splash of brightness abruptly receding into a long gray thread climbing up to the ceiling before finally collapsing into invisible and untraceable corridors of chaos."
This book was such a staggering amount of nothing. It will appeal to people who don't read much beyond the standard horror/transgressive pulp. They'll think it's mind-blowing when in reality it's barely a leaf blower.4/10
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4 minutes ago, lunababymoonchild said:
That sounds like it could be very upsetting.
Well, it certainly doesn't end well.
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Auto Da Fe (1935) Elias Canetti
One of the most peculiar books I have ever read. And one which, despite its length, I couldn't put down. Each chapter pulled me further and further into this bizarre world and its abnormal characters.
There is a man named Peter Kien, a great academic, a sinologist, a man utterly obsessed with books. Never have you encountered a man more devoted to his books, never in literature have you met someone more fixated, to the point of lunacy, on his private library. They are more important than people, more important than life.
Peter is anti-social, perhaps autistic, to the extent that he isn't always fully present or cognizant of his surroundings; he is eternally living in his mind and cannot always grasp the nuance of life or those around him -- the real world is beyond him. He has a housemaid who has, unnoticed, served him for eight years but who, one day, ushers away a child that Peter had promised could see the library; this leads him to view her somewhat differently, perhaps as a kindred spirit. She is someone serious, someone who will look after his books and protect them as much as he does. What follows is a rash marriage and a spiral of events which lead to mental decline and uncertainty. She is a witch! She takes over his house, his books, she kicks him out! He is left to roam the streets, living in a hotel, manipulated and taken advantage of by almost everyone he meets. None more so than a dwarf named Fischerle who has ambitions of being a chess champion. Deeper and deeper goes Peter Kien, his mind collapsing about him, his capacity for control and sanity out of reach. His precious books escaping him. The world is a cold, nasty place occupied by vile, greedy insects!
I honestly can't remember reading anything quit like this; on the one hand, dark and depraved, a world of deformed characters and ignoble motivations, but on the other, comical and ludicrous, almost perverse in its unnatural behaviours and cynicism. The book was like a combination of 'The Man Without Qualities,' 'A Confederacy of Dunces,' and 'Don Quixote' all at once. Maybe even an element of the ghoulish yet heartwarming 'Geek Love' can be thrown in too. How a man under 30 could write this in 1935 is beyond me. It is a masterpiece of the human condition, and yet it is also a small story concerning trivial human frailties. I will lovingly place the book on my shelf and occasionally contemplate the life of Peter Kien; as well as the cost of loving books a little too much.
Give the man a Nobel prize. Oh wait, he already has one.9/10
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my father. It was rich and smooth, like warm syrup in summer, and it suddenly triggered a memory.
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I was about to speak, before impatiently asking 'well?'
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Started reading Auto Da Fe by Elias Canetti.
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I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2016) Iain Reid
I have to confess I read this AFTER watching the film. Almost certainly a mistake, but I enjoyed the film so much (the theme of an isolated man maintaining himself through the private narratives he creates) that I was curious to see how the book conveyed those same ideas. Sadly, it didn't. The majority of the book is a basic narrative of a couple in a car travelling to see his parents. She narrates and while there's some hint at oddness (more in an attempt to create suspense), it never really matched the surreal and curious atmosphere of the film. Hence seeing the film first spoiled the experience.
The book is very easy to read though. I zipped through it. Short chapters with very pithy and simple language. There is nothing of literary significance here but the the themes explored (at least in the twist ending) are very interesting, certainly to me. But again, where the film explored them in a more overt and fascinating way, the book simply uses them as a plot device twist ending. The question is: just how much of life do we live in our heads? Are lonely people living a dual existence of real life and internal life? Is everyone? The film really impressed me on these questions, especially as someone who has indeed spent a lot of his life living in his head (to the detriment of real life). But the book merely throws this at you at the end; another modern banal twist which I really didn't need. It's only saving grace is how easy it is to read, and the claustrophobic sense of isolation it generates (more books with couples driving for long periods in cars please).
I would definitely recommend the book; it breezes by. But it was a damp squib as far as the ideas he was endeavouring to play with were concerned. For that, I would recommend the film which goes a little deeper with them (and doesn't use them cheaply as a twist).7/10
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Goodbye to Berlin (1939) Christopher Isherwood
Having been interrupted halfway through by a scratched cornea, it took a while to get through this. I managed to finish with my one good eye and thus, have had plenty of time to digest it. Overall, I enjoyed Isherwood's writing, the stark, brisk quality of it which remains detached and objective. He simply tells us what he sees and documents 1930s Berlin with a series of vignettes and diaries as the Nazis begin to loom in the background. The book is presented as life-writing but clearly has flourishes of creative and narrative fiction.
The best part of the book without question is the chapter that focuses on Sally Bowles. Firstly, I have never seen the film 'Cabaret' so I can't comment on how similar the characters are or how much of the book was translated into the film, but I suspect very little given how horrendously unlikeable the woman is. If ever a woman embodied the decadence and decay of Weimer Germany, Sally Bowles is it. She is presented as a spoiled child, privileged and and ignorant, permissive and promiscuous, endlessly using the word 'darling' like some kind of caricature. She sleeps with everyone and inevitably gets pregnant then pops to the hospital for an abortion. She agrees to marry a 16-year-old boy purely because she thinks he has money. Suffice it to say, she is a rancid creature and profoundly awful. Which is presumably why she's so wonderfully entertaining to read about. I am genuinely amazed Jean Ross (who Sally Bowles is based on) agreed to let Isherwood portray her as such a mercurial, self-indulgent buffoon.
I liked Isherwood's writing a lot but felt the book was a little haphazard and thrown together, each section introducing new characters and moments that reminded me it was a true account of his time in Germany. I would be keen to read more of his work, however, preferably something which has more of a fictional narrative.8/10
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Bought 'Auto da Fé' by Elias Canetti and really looking forward to (eventually) reading it.
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43 minutes ago, lunababymoonchild said:
How are you getting on now, Hux?
It's getting there but taking forever. Doctor did tell me that once you damage the cornea (this is the second time), it's never the same again and takes much longer to heal.
Had five week off work. Finally back this week.
And I've almost finished 'Goodbye to Berlin' with my one good eye.
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Taking a while to heal. Apparently after you damage the cornea, it's never quite as strong again. And it takes longer to heal.
The pain is mostly gone but it's still a blur in the right eye so no reading.
I listened to some Sherlock Holmes books on Youtube but I like the process of reading.
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For the last few weeks I've been waking up with a feeling like there's a stone in my eye which eventually goes away. Then on Thursday the pain wouldn't leave and I finally saw the optician who told me that my right eyeball is so dry that it is scraping the cornea away.
Have been given some drops and some gel. Pain has finally subsided but I can't see a thing because of the gel.
No reading for me for a couple of weeks.
😢
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Who asked for this?
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An Inventory of Losses (2018) Judith Schalansky
There's a joke about writers finding a way to make their short stories connect so that they can pass them off as a novel. Well, that joke became a reality here. A series of chapters that are either short stories or short polemics which revolve around the wafer thin theme of loss and time and history and blah blah yawn.
I honestly haven't been bored by a book quite as badly as I was by this one. At first glance, the writing is very good (neat and tidy) and you feel as though there is meaningful content but as the novelty value of the book continues (sporadic looks at the past that have no real connection to one another) you begin to feel drained, as though the writer is somehow stealing all the love, energy, and optimism from your very soul. Even when the book has mildly interesting chapters (actual narratives as opposed to polemics and half-formed thoughts about the human condition), it still somehow manages to fail because as soon as that chapter is over, you are instantly asked to abandon it and embrace the next thoroughly tedious chapter which is bone dry and banal. At no point can you invest in anything, not even a character who runs, like a thread, through the book. It's all just idiotic nonsense that goes nowhere masquerading as something profound and beautiful. One chapter was essentially just the narrator describing foliage and trees and animals -- like I've never encountered any of that before.
I liked the idea of the book: an inventory of things that we have lost or forgotten over the centuries, but I just don't think Schalansky had the talent to turn that into something significant or worthwhile. I was genuinely bored. It honestly did feel like nothing more than a series of jumbled thoughts thrown together without any creativity or vision into a half-baked novel.
The only praise I can give the book is the physical book itself. A beautiful thing with a font of gold and chapters that are separated by a black page with a faded image within it. But that's it, though. That's all I can say as a positive.3/10
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Lady into Fox (1922) David Garnett
A very short novella about a woman who, without warning, transforms into a fox before her husband's very eyes. He asks his servants to leave their home and chooses to look after his vixen alone. She cannot speak, but, to begin with, she maintains various human-like qualities such as eating at the table, playing cards, and dressing in clothes. But as time goes on, she increasingly loses interest in these things and begins to exhibit a more animal-like behaviour. Eventually, she digs a hole to escape the garden and her husband, initially angry, agrees to let her leave. Months later she returns with a series of cubs and appears to have settled into her life as a fox.
Where to begin with this? It's very easy to read and agreeably short. The writing is very good and it goes along at a fine pace. There is a slow build which provides all the information you need including a somewhat vague moment of drunkeness where the husband admits he behaved inappropriately with the fox (but let's say no more about that). The only issue here is how to interpret the text overall. I'm sure there are many theories and ideas regarding the underlying themes, all of which probably work and make sense. For me, there are two possibilities.
One, it is an allegory for change within relationships, the way human beings (especially in long-tern relationships) will become different people as the years go by and how this will impact upon the other participant. In this case, her husband must come to terms with the fact he cannot continue forcing her to live with him. They may still care for each other but they have entirely different goals, dreams, desires, etc. The second is more complex. Throughout the text, he is understandably referred to as a madman; neighbours speak of his malaise and the fact that his wife has gone away. Is it possible that she literally left him for another man and, in his despair and anguish, he conjured up a delusional narrative which reduced her (the 'lady of the night' vixen) to that of a base animal? Who knows, but like I said, you can play with the hidden meanings of this book until the sun goes down.
And that's what makes it so great.8/10
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Austerlitz (2001) W.G. Sebald
An unnamed narrator tells us of a man named Austerlitz who he met in the 60s and who, having not seen each other for twenty years, comes back into his life in the 90s. Eventually the story becomes one told by Austerlitz to the narrator about his life growing up in Wales and his uncertain origins. He discovers, and relays to the narrator, that he was born in Czechoslovakia and was, on the arrival of the Nazis, sent away to Britain as a child. After this his memories of that early life become faded and he has no further recollection of his birth parents until he is informed of his real name -- Austerlitz. Gradually, with the help of the narrator, he details his search for his lost past and his lost identity.
The first half of this book, where the narrator meets Austerlitz and details their friendship was wonderful and I was fully engaged. It was reminiscent of the superb 'Rings of Saturn' which also made use of history and location, drenching the reader in well-crafted and fascinating insights (often accompanied by photographs) which took the narrative in various disparate and curious directions. The second half of the book, however, started to feel dense and repetitive, and I found the influence of Thomas Bernhard to be irksome. It is initially mild and only really noticeable in the lack of chapters throughout the book but there is a section towards the end which almost amplifies the Bernhard style with several pages of breathless stream-of-consciousness which go on and on with a singular determination but which, in my opinion, only serve to lessen the impact of what is actually being discussed. The more the book went on, and certainly into the final third, the more I found my interest waning quite significantly. Sebald's writing is always sublime, I just don't think he entirely mastered what is an obviously borrowed technique.
There was far too much Austerlitz said, Austerlitz continued, Austerlitz went on. And I could have done without the introduction from James Wood which only coloured the content in a manner which took my own ability to interpret the text away from me. I usually skip introductions but this one was not explicitly obvious as an introduction until halfway through it.
It's a well-written book but one which ultimately left me slightly underwhelmed. It never grabbed me quite the way Rings of Saturn did. Once the initial sections between the narrator and Austerlitz were discarded in favour of Austerlitz telling his story, I gradually checked out. But I would still recommend it.7/10
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