Hux

Stream of consciousness is very hit and miss with me. But when I do enjoy it, I tend to be completely immersed. The first 15 pages of Herta Müller's 'Land of the Green Plums' was frustrating but gradually I adored it.

Never cried. I was moved by 'The Book of Disquiet.'

Nightwood (1936) Djuna Barnes I was expecting a lot from this but found only meandering writing and a nothing plot. The prose is thick and clingy and tries desperately to be poetic and meaningful but is so tediously unreadable (with a few exceptions). I really struggled to enjoy the writing and found it cloying and unnatural to the extent that it never feels like you're reading a person's real thoughts or hearing any real dialogue. The prose is more about presenting you with meaning than conveying any particular information. Some might be tempted to apologise for this obvious flaw by suggesting it's a book that you need to read more than once because it's demanding but that's nonsense. Other writers manage to write demanding and meaningful works without making me groan every time I turn a page to discover that the chapter hasn't ended yet.So why do people make a fuss about it? Well, because it was published in 1936 and predominantly (and openly) details a lesbian love affair (Plus, it throws in a cross dresser for good measure). The plot itself is a straight-forward story about a woman named Robin Vote who marries Felix, has a child with him, realises she doesn't want to be a mother, runs off, starts an affair with a woman named Nora, then leaves her for another woman called Jenny. Pretty much all of the characters are unlikeable (not always a bad thing), and they all seem to come from a background of privilege and comfort (they swan about Europe and the world despite never seemingly working for a living). Suffice it to say, it was difficult to care about any of them.The bottom line here is this: if you're going to enjoy this book then you're only going to enjoy it based on the style of writing and the thick, gloopy prose which Barnes offers.I didn't.Not to say that the book is bad or anything, just that it's not my thing. Had this been a story about bricklayers going to the park for a picnic, I doubt anyone would be talking about it today. But because it explores a lesbian affair it seems to have acquired a more noteworthy status. Definitely worth a look (especially if you like that style of writing) but not for me.Thank goodness it was short. 5/10

There was a small puppy from Spain A dachshund with a curious name

Community 2013 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9AGED8z9qgI

Man's Fate (1933) André Malraux I read this purely because it was number 5 in Le Monde's 100 Books of the Century. I was slightly disappointed to discover it's a rather formulaic action adventure story regarding a group of Chinese communists in 1927. Truth be told, I found reading it a bit of a slog. Malraux is very articulate and writes sweeping sentences that contain a million ideas and thoughts. But as a style, it's not always compelling to read and while I might condemn the translator more than the writer for that, I think that would be too simplistic. Malraux clearly meanders a great deal and produces a swamp of words that don't really go anywhere or give any meaningful information to the reader. And he dwells on political or economic concepts that might successfully explain the story's background a little but which are definitely not fun to read.The plot predominantly follows Ch'en and Kyo but there's quite a few other characters too. These two individuals are part of the communist insurrection and endeavour to acquire arms or recruit men. Ch'en takes it upon himself to try and assassinate Chaing Kai-Shek. At times, the narrative was interesting but just when it became so, Malraux would go back to filling the pages with dense paragraphs that never really went anywhere and soon, I was losing focus again.I've certainly read worse but the book just never grabbed me. Truth be told, as I get older, I've become less and less interested in plot driven narratives. I'd prefer to hear something more personal where one person's worldview is explored. Plots tend to bore me a little.Slightly bewildered as to why this book is (seemingly) so popular in France. Maybe it's no more complicated than the romanticisation of communism. Glad I read it but I doubt I'll be reading any more of his work. 5/10

In the last few years, I've read three books purely because they were nominated for this prize. All three were tedious and forgettable. I'm out.

Those people all seem very... jolly. Probably not for me. 'Better Than Food' is occasionally worth a watch. And G.C McKay.

Chip and Chuck were an adventurous pair Chuck's hair was green, while Chip had no hair... When the two ventured forth And went farther north They encountered a barber with talent to spare There once was a sailor named Barnie

The book is set in France in the year 2022 where, with the help of the socialists, a Muslim political party is elected into government. This is the premise of Houellebecq's controversial novel. The book follows an academic called Francois who teaches literature at a university and specializes in the work of Huysmans. Before long, only Muslims can teach at the University and he loses his job. Meanwhile, education is altered and women are taken out of the workforce.Francois struggles with his place in the world and seeks answers. Like in most of Houellebecqs books, he finds none, and only acknowledges the futility of western civilisation. And that's what the book is about: the west's slow march into irrelevance. Some have accused Houellebecq of stoking the fires (the book was published the day of the Charlie Hebdo massacre) but that's too simplistic. As I said, this is far less a criticism of Islam and far more a criticism of the West and its atomised and directionless culture. Not to mention its apparent willingness to sleepwalk into obscurity.I must say I didn't find the transformation of French society from secular to Muslim very convincing and Houellebecq doesn't spend much time justifying that. Most speculative novels of this nature would have involved a slow build up of some kind but since it was published in 2015, Houellebecq clearly isn't very interested in doing that. For him, this is clearly a satire where the sci-fi nature of the plot is somewhat irrelevant. He wants to play around with themes rather than give you a convincing dystopian narrative.Truth be told, this was one of the most readable books I've ever come across. I fizzed through it. The story isn't that compelling and never really goes anywhere in terms of plot but the writing is wonderful and fluid, with short chapters that fly by as Francois explores art and religion and love and the death of Europe. The bottom line is: if you kill your own culture, don't start moaning when something fills the void. So many books lack the beauty and the balls of Houellebecq. 8/10

Submission (2015) Michel Houellebecq The book is set in France in the year 2022 where, with the help of the socialists, a Muslim political party is elected into government. This is the premise of Houellebecq's controversial novel. The book follows an academic called Francois who teaches literature at a university and specializes in the work of Huysmans. Before long, only Muslims can teach at the University and he loses his job. Meanwhile, education is altered and women are taken out of the workforce.Francois struggles with his place in the world and seeks answers. Like in most of Houellebecqs books, he finds none, and only acknowledges the futility of western civilisation. And that's what the book is about: the west's slow march into irrelevance. Some have accused Houellebecq of stoking the fires (the book was published the day of the Charlie Hebdo massacre) but that's too simplistic. As I said, this is far less a criticism of Islam and far more a criticism of the West and its atomised and directionless culture. Not to mention its apparent willingness to sleepwalk into obscurity.I must say I didn't find the transformation of French society from secular to Muslim very convincing and Houellebecq doesn't spend much time justifying that. Most speculative novels of this nature would have involved a slow build up of some kind but since it was published in 2015, Houellebecq clearly isn't very interested in doing that. For him, this is clearly a satire where the sci-fi nature of the plot is somewhat irrelevant. He wants to play around with themes rather than give you a convincing dystopian narrative.Truth be told, this was one of the most readable books I've ever come across. I fizzed through it. The story isn't that compelling and never really goes anywhere in terms of plot but the writing is wonderful and fluid, with short chapters that fly by as Francois explores art and religion and love and the death of Europe. The bottom line is: if you kill your own culture, don't start moaning when something fills the void. So many books lack the beauty and the balls of Houellebecq. 8/10

Kafka on the Shore (2002) Haruki Murakami After enjoying Norwegian Wood I thought I'd give this a go. And while I enjoyed the reading experience once more, I wasn't exactly convinced by the writing. There were things that only mildly bothered me in Norwegian Wood but which I dismissed because I saw them as one-off issues for that particular book. Kafka on the Shore, however, demonstrated that they're part of Murakami's entire style. The endless descriptions of what every character is eating or drinking at all times (I know how food works, thanks), and the fact that everyone seems to express even the most basic degree of fondness for one another through some kind of sexual contact ('hi, you seem nice, would you like a hand-job?'). In Norwegian Wood this stuff seemed (tangentially) to make a certain amount of sense given the context but here, it becomes clear that this is just Murakami's thing. It doesn't spoil the book in any way, it's simply a little tedious.Then we have the actual story. It's all rather vague and metaphorical, a story about alternate dimensions, parts of your soul being lost, and so on. That's fine but I tend to view that kind of thing as more of a gimmick than anything else; one which is masking the fact that the book doesn't actually have anything meaningful to say about the human condition. Dazai's 'No Longer Human' has a great deal to say about the complexities of human existence but at no point does he rely on KFC's Colonel Sanders turning up as a character to get you a good blow job from a sex worker (that actually happens). I can imagine that if you're someone who doesn't read much then this might seem so whacky and weird that it's an example of mind-bending literary genius. When, in truth, it's simply a story about a magic stone and a man who can communicate with cats.That all being said, I really did enjoy reading it. Murakami writes in a thoroughly fluid and page turning manner that is hard to knock. But that's the least I'd expect from genre fiction. And that's what this is: genre fiction. Something to read on the beach when you're on holiday.I'd definitely recommend it as a piece of entertainment but generally speaking it's not my cup of tea. I will probably delve into more of Murakami's work at a later date but I'm in no rush. I think I've got the gist of what he's about. Fun to read but of little literary significance. 7/10

Kafka on the Shore (2002) Haruki Murakami After enjoying Norwegian Wood I thought I'd give this a go. And while I enjoyed the reading experience once more, I wasn't exactly convinced by the writing. There were things that only mildly bothered me in Norwegian Wood but which I dismissed because I saw them as one-off issues for that particular book. Kafka on the Shore, however, demonstrated that they're part of Murakami's entire style. The endless descriptions of what every character is eating or drinking at all times (I know how food works, thanks), and the fact that everyone seems to express even the most basic degree of fondness for one another through some kind of sexual contact ('hi, you seem nice, would you like a hand-job?'). In Norwegian Wood this stuff seemed (tangentially) to make a certain amount of sense given the context but here, it becomes clear that this is just Murakami's thing. It doesn't spoil the book in any way, it's simply a little tedious.Then we have the actual story. It's all rather vague and metaphorical, a story about alternate dimensions, parts of your soul being lost, and so on. That's fine but I tend to view that kind of thing as more of a gimmick than anything else; one which is masking the fact that the book doesn't actually have anything meaningful to say about the human condition. Dazai's 'No Longer Human' has a great deal to say about the complexities of human existence but at no point does he rely on KFC's Colonel Sanders turning up as a character to get you a good blow job from a sex worker (that actually happens). I can imagine that if you're someone who doesn't read much then this might seem so whacky and weird that it's an example of mind-bending literary genius. When, in truth, it's simply a story about a magic stone and a man who can communicate with cats.That all being said, I really did enjoy reading it. Murakami writes in a thoroughly fluid and page turning manner that is hard to knock. But that's the least I'd expect from genre fiction. And that's what this is: genre fiction. Something to read on the beach when you're on holiday.I'd definitely recommend it as a piece of entertainment but generally speaking it's not my cup of tea. I will probably delve into more of Murakami's work at a later date but I'm in no rush. I think I've got the gist of what he's about. Fun to read but of little literary significance. 7/10

Italy deserved it. Hopefully, Southgate will learn to be less conservative in his approach. And above all other things, always avoid penalties.

Nice little article about my favourite contemporary writer Michel Houeloebecq. https://thecritic.co.uk/issues/july-2021/laughing-laureate-of-western-decline/

We're in a final for the first time since 66. FINAL Sunday 11th July ITALY Vs ENGLAND

Something simply isn't right, she said A dung beetle's climbed in my bed It rolled up my sock It didn't even knock And now it sits quietly on my head There once was a singer from Egypt

Nice! And now the semi finals. Italy V Spain Denmark V England

ENG-GER-LAND!!!

This book took me by surprise. It's stunningly original, especially given that it was published in 1890. I kept having to check that particular date because it felt so contemporary and modern. I'm genuinely curious to know if this book might qualify as the first truly 'modernist' novel. There might be other candidates out there but this is certainly a contender. There is no plot (a marker for many modernist novels), and the book is a first person narration filled with inner dialogue and occasional stream of consciousness writing. Hamsun also has a curious habit of switching tenses (which I don't ever recall seeing before). He starts a sentence in past tense then concludes it in present tense and so on -- and it all works rather beautifully. There's also a rather blunt expression of sexual thoughts and images which most 19th century literature wouldn't touch and which, again, seems very modern. In fact, the two earlier translations both removed them (the translation by Sverre Lyngstad is the one you want).The basic plot is a young writer struggling to find work, food, and somewhere to sleep in Oslo. On one occasion, he sleeps in the woods, on another he volunteers to spend the night in the local prison as his only option. He's so hungry that he picks up a handful of wood chippings and eats them across the course of the day. And when he finally has some food, his body has become so accustomed to not having any that he vomits. All this is occurring as he is desperately tries to come up with articles which he might sell to the newspaper and his mind is slowly crumbling.There are times when he speaks to himself, when the internal monologue is vocalised, and there are moments when he seems unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy. As the book goes along, he appears to be falling apart and gradually losing his mind. And there is a woman named Ylajali whom he fixates on and eventually has a rendezvous with which quickly escalates into something sexually aggressive and confused. Again, this is not something I'd expect to see in a 19th century novel. This is a book about poverty and hunger at a time when it wasn't uncommon for most people to experience those things.This was such a superb read. Magnificent. 9/10

Hunger (1890) Knut Hamsun This book took me by surprise. It's stunningly original, especially given that it was published in 1890. I kept having to check that particular date because it felt so contemporary and modern. I'm genuinely curious to know if this book might qualify as the first truly 'modernist' novel. There might be other candidates out there but this is certainly a contender. There is no plot (a marker for many modernist novels), and the book is a first person narration filled with inner dialogue and occasional stream of consciousness writing. Hamsun also has a curious habit of switching tenses (which I don't ever recall seeing before). He starts a sentence in past tense then concludes it in present tense and so on -- and it all works rather beautifully. There's also a rather blunt expression of sexual thoughts and images which most 19th century literature wouldn't touch and which, again, seems very modern. In fact, the two earlier translations both removed them (the translation by Sverre Lyngstad is the one you want).The basic plot is a young writer struggling to find work, food, and somewhere to sleep in Oslo. On one occasion, he sleeps in the woods, on another he volunteers to spend the night in the local prison as his only option. He's so hungry that he picks up a handful of wood chippings and eats them across the course of the day. And when he finally has some food, his body has become so accustomed to not having any that he vomits. All this is occurring as he is desperately tries to come up with articles which he might sell to the newspaper and his mind is slowly crumbling.There are times when he speaks to himself, when the internal monologue is vocalised, and there are moments when he seems unable to distinguish between reality and fantasy. As the book goes along, he appears to be falling apart and gradually losing his mind. And there is a woman named Ylajali whom he fixates on and eventually has a rendezvous with which quickly escalates into something sexually aggressive and confused. Again, this is not something I'd expect to see in a 19th century novel. This is a book about poverty and hunger at a time when it wasn't uncommon for most people to experience those things.This was such a superb read. Magnificent. 9/10

The Invention of Morel (1940) Adolfo Bioy Casares This was a fun read. I won't go into too many details regarding the plot because the book is very much dependent upon its plot as it moves along. Suffice it to say a man (a fugitive) on the run from the Venezuelan authorities hears of an isolated island in the Pacific that has a reputation for being a place that is uninhabitable for people and he chooses to hide there. On the abandoned island there is a large dilapidated building (referred to as a museum), a Chapel, a swimming pool and a small mill, and the man lives in the museum alone. That is until, one day, a group of strangers suddenly arrive on the island.The fugitive runs away from the museum and hides from the newcomers in the marshlands but becomes obsessed with a woman among their group named Faustine who sits in the same spot each day to read and watch the sunsets. He then notices that there are two suns and two moons. He listens to the conversations these people have and they seem odd and disconnected. Then, finally, he reveals himself to Faustine but she doesn't appear to acknowledge him.Anyway, that's where the plot thickens.This book is an old school mystery adventure yarn, the likes of which you see rarely these days. In fact, it was pretty rare even when it was published (1940). It's short and perfectly plotted, and all the clues laid out for the reader as they go along. Jorge Luis Borges said that the book's plot was perfection and I'd have to agree. But the book's shortness is the very thing which allows for such concise and neat storytelling.Anyway, I'm gonna go watch 'Lost.' 8/10

When butter goes rancid these days.... Beneath hot beams of summer sun rays The puddles of oil Really do spoil

When butter goes rancid these days.... Beneath hot beams of summer sun rays

There once was a man called Ben Siller Whose movie career was a thriller