Hux

And they're more fun to write.

Insane (1983) Rainald Goetz An incoherent mess with some mildly interesting ideas about psychiatry wrapped up within a great deal of middle-class performativity. Part one (Away) is a jumble of nonsense vignettes narrated in first and third person so that you don't really understand what the hell is going on. I assumed it was a collection of individuals at the asylum (mostly patients) but it's hard to tell and you never get anything close to resembling a narrative. It was at this point that I strongly considered quitting the book. Then part two (Inside) which, thankfully, endeavours to give the reader an actual narrative that can be understood. We follow the new (and seemingly idealistic) psychiatric doctor, Raspe, as he is shown the ropes by other more experienced doctors (notably Bögl) and introduced to patients (potentially the patients who were rambling incoherently in part one but I'm not entirely sure). Here the book is vastly more readable and finally starts exploring an interesting subject matter. Raspe is somewhat brought down to earth with a bang by what he encounters. He begins to see how ineffective and arbitrary most treatments are, how medication is predominantly created to make patients docile rather than better, and how psychiatry is a profoundly flawed profession dealing with as much scientific certainty as medium's who communicate with the dead. They're essentially making it up as they go and hoping for the best. As someone who used to work in mental health, I immediately related to the whole concept of one step forward, two steps back. Raspe, of course, notes the fact that doctors and patients are often in their roles by sheer convenience and luck. And while this section of the book is undeniably the only part worth reading, it's still not exactly what I would call entertaining or good. Then comes part three (Order) which is presumably an ironic title given that this contains the most incoherent gibberish of the entire book. Here we get more random garbage and more disassociated narration from both Raspe and Goetz himself. I'm sure it's all very artistic and brilliant but it's also extremely banal and tedious. Throughout the book (published in 1983), there is an ongoing sense coming from Goetz that punk was highly influential on him. This book is clearly his contribution to that rather forgettable scene. But given that punk was all about working-class kids picking up guitars and doing it for themselves (later to be bastardised by middle-class kids onto new wave and new romantics), there is something phoney about the whole thing. Goetz is a very well-educated privileged man masquerading as an outsider. He is a poser. A fake. And his book is frankly awful. So that's it, that's the book. If you're a painfully tedious hipster who's never had a momentary struggle in his entire life but thinks being performatively left-wing qualifies you as an outsider, then you should read this. You'll love it... by which I mean you'll pretend to love it. 3/10

January Review posted on January 2 - Insane (Rainald Goetz) 3/10 Review posted on January 3 - The Fire Within (Pierre Drieu La Rochelle) 6/10 Review posted on January 6 - The Sheltering Sky (Paul Bowles) 9/10 Review posted on January 15 - On Heroes and Tombs (Ernesto Sabato) 7/10 Review posted on January 18 - Pigtales (Marie Darrueussecq) 6/10 Review posted on January 19 - Closely Watched Trains (Bohumil Hrabal) 7/10 Review posted on January 27 - Shuggie Bain (Douglas Stuart) 7/10 February Review posted on February 3 - Hard Rain Falling (Don Carpenter) 9/10 Review posted on February 8 - Ice (Anna Kavan) 3/10 Review posted on February 15 - Babbitt (Sinclair Lewis) 8/10 Review posted on February 17 - Freshwater (Akwaeke Emezi) 7/10 Review posted on February 24 - Gog (Andrew Sinclair) 7/10 Review posted on February 25 - The Limit (Rosalind Belben) 5/10 March Review posted on March 1 - For Two Thousand Years (Mihail Sebastian) 6/10 Review posted on March 3 - Monday Morning (Patrick Hamilton) 8/10 Review posted on March 8 - Asylum (Patrick McGrath) 8/10 Review posted on March 12 - Two Serious Ladies (Jane Bowles) 6/10 Review posted on March 14 - The Recognitions (William Gaddis) 4/10 Review posted on March 17 - The Green Face (Gustav Meyrink) 7/10 Review posted on March 22 - Paris Trout (Pete Dexter) 7/10 Review posted on March 28 - Zorba The Greek (Nikos Kazantzakis) 7/10 Review posted on March 30 - The Snow Was Dirty (Georges Simenon) 10/10 April Review posted on April 5 - Journey by Moonlight (Antal Szerb) 7/10 Review posted on April 8 - The Magic Mountain (Thomas Mann) 5/10 Review posted on April 11 - Platform (Michel Houellebecq) 8/10 Review posted on April 13 - The Strangers in the House (Georges Simenon) 7/10 Review posted on April 19 - Three Trapped Tigers (G. Cabrera Infante) 4/10 Review posted on April 25 - Night Train to Lisbon (Pascal Mercier) 6/10

Of Human Bondage (1915) W. Somerset Maugham I've always had a soft spot for a good bildungsroman and this one is magnificent. The story of Philip Carey, a boy born with a club foot which in many ways defines him. After his parents both die, he is taken in by his uncle and wife and given a good education. As he gets older, he lives in Germany for a year then returns and works briefly as an accountant before following his dreams of being an artist and moving to Paris. After realising he doesn't truly have the talent for this, he finally settles on training as a doctor. He meets and falls in love with a girl called Mildred (what a character), and acquires and loses friends along the way, all while searching for a meaning to his existence. I adored every page of this book. Somerset Maugham has a wonderful style that is evocative of the era but also demonstrates a touch of the modern. So many books and writers came to mind as I read this, such as Hamsun and Celine but most of all Patrick Hamilton. The section of the book where Philip meets the awful Mildred was so reminiscent of Hamilton's writing. I find it impossible to believe that Hamilton wasn't massively influenced by the book and that relationship in particular. She treats Philip appallingly and you want to scream at him to dump her but I suppose the point Maugham is making is that love makes us delirious and destroys reason. She admits she's seeing other men, then, after he accepts this, she leaves him for a married man who impregnates her. He takes her back (again) and helps her with the baby only to have her leave him again, this time for his best friend Griffiths (Philip even pays for them to go away together because he thinks she'll eventually come back to him once it's over). Maugham really lays it on thick and reiterates (more than once) that love is an aberration that cannot be made sense of. He actually convinced me in the end. One of you will ALWAYS be more in love than the other. Throughout all his journeys and experiences, Philip wrestles with the question of religion and life's purpose. He loses faith in God and comes to the conclusion that life is ultimately meaningless ("a river arising from no spring and flowing endlessly to no sea"). He is shunted from moment of joy to moment of disappointment, and so often that he feels compelled to see life for what it really is. At it's worst, when he had to give up medicine and endure poverty, he concludes that each generation merely repeats itself 'impressing upon him the futility of human existence.' One of the characters that really stood out to me (despite her very brief presence in the book and seemingly inconsequential impact on Philip) was Fanny Price, a woman of singular fortitude who had a somewhat misguided opinion of her artistic abilities. I was surprised Philip didn't contemplate her more often as he went through life. But in the end, she seemed to represent nothing more than another human tragedy among many. Even the ending is bittersweet because while Philip finds solace in the arms of Sally he admits that he does not love her (his heart still, annoyingly, pining for Mildred), but he simply recognises that she is the best option for a life that might, relatively speaking, be worth living. Because all lives are worthless in the end and there are no answers to be found. She is a safe bet. And who can argue with that? When all is said and done, a large breasted 18-year-old girl who adores you and craves the role of wife and mother is not to be sniffed at. Perhaps this is why men today are more unhappy than ever. Because even that small mercy has been take away from us. Now both men and women are equally miserable and condemned to their own lifetime of bondage. The book is a classic of the bildungsroman genre and for excellent reasons. You'll entirely forget that it was set at the turn of the century and was published in 1915. Everything feels modern and relatable, everything rings true. A wonderful early example of the nihilistic sentiment that would come to define the last century. 10/10

Started 'Of Human Bondage' by W. Somerset Maughan.

Melancholy I - II (1995) Jon Fosse The fictionalised account of a real person's life, Lars Hertervig (1830 - 1902), a Norwegian painter who experienced mental health issues in his life and was placed in an asylum for many years. The book begins in 1853 with Lars living in Dusseldorf as a painter and he is enamoured with his landlady's daughter, Helene. He is told he must pack his bags and leave. Then we jump to 1856 and his time at the asylum. Then we jump to 1991 and follow a character called Vidme. Then part II concludes in 1902 with his elderly sister reminiscing about Lars not long after his death. The only interesting part of the book was the stuff focusing on Lars himself and listening to his first person narration as he descended deeper into mania and madness was curious to say the least. The other chapters didn't really offer me much especially the contemporary one though I did enjoy some aspects of the ending with his elderly sister as she repeatedly shat herself (always a good metaphor for life). The book is a good exploration of mental decline and paranoia. But the method used isn't entirely without its flaws. The style of writing Fosse uses to convey this mental breakdown is effective but it's also somewhat tedious to read. And while he can justify it as an example of the racing, untethered thoughts which consume Lars, it doesn't entirely explain why he uses it in other circumstances. After a while, I was immensely bored with it. Imagine a sentence like: 'I went to the shop to buy some bread.' Well, here's how Fosse would give it to you... "I went to the shop to buy some bread. I went to the shop. To buy some bread. Yes, I Lars Hertervig went to the shop. For some bread. To buy some bread. I went to the shop. I did not have any bread so went to the shop. Yes, I, Lars Hertervig, went to the shop. I walked to the shop, I walked down the street. To buy some bread. I walked to the shop. I needed to buy some bread. I needed to go to the shop. To the shop. What would I do without bread? I needed bread. So I went to the shop. To buy some bread. Yes, I went to the shop to buy some bread. Yes I, Lars. Lars Hertervig needed bread and so I went to the shop. I went to the shop. I went to the shop for bread. To buy some bread." If that's your idea of exquisite prose then good luck to you. To me, it's merely an effective method for demonstrating a man's mental state and rapid descent into mania and racing (often intrusive) thoughts. But again, even when we're no longer in the head of Lars, we still get this style all the way through the book. I can't speak for the original Norwegian but the English translation is prosaic and obvious, lacking in anything that might be described as inventive or creative language. It's all very basic stuff. But apparently if you keep repeating a sentence, you're producing ground-breaking literature. Who knew? Anyway, the book (especially the first two parts) was pretty compelling but the novelty (and let's not kid ourselves, that's what it was... a novelty) soon wears off. I was intrigued enough to read more of his work but this was a very performative and uninspired start. 7/10

They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (1935) Horace McCoy The story of a man named Robert who befriends a young girl called Gloria in the 1930s. She is depressed and always talking about wishing she were dead and life being pointless. He dismisses this as her simply being morose and occasionally unpleasant. They enter a 'don't stop till you drop' dance marathon and that's the bulk of the story, chapter after chapter of this competition and its grueling toll on everyone, it's unique characters and strange events. If you hadn't worked it out yet, the dance marathon is a metaphor for life. And while it works, it's never especially gripping. The story is quite dull and the characters quite forgettable. But this story has something going for it, an idea which makes it stand out from the crowd. Because Gloria is a nihilist and wants no part of life. She questions why others want to take part in it, why people have children, and she wants to die, but is too afraid of trying (again). As a premise goes, it's powerful and original stuff. Do people have the right to die? Do people have the right to assist? Do people have the right to force life onto others? The notion that there are human beings among us who see no purpose in existence, who are bemused by the very idea of brining more life into the world, and who can't understand why others don't also want to leave (having never wanted to be here in the first place) is a disturbing question. If someone is in pain, shouldn't they be allowed to end that suffering? After all, they shoot horses, don't they? And yes, this is all very interesting and thought provoking, a concept which makes for a fascinating read. But the problem is the book is just a little... meh. The writing is prosaic, the story boring. And Robert agreeing to kill her at the end seemed idiotically unrealistic. It needed a greater connection between the two of them before that made any sense. Because, as far as I could tell, they were nothing more than mild acquaintances with very little depth to their relationship. A book that explores a big theme and one for the nihilists and antinatalists but ultimately forgettable stuff. 7/10

The Captive Mind (1953) Czeslaw Milosz I read this thinking it was a piece of fiction (or maybe life writing similar to Goodbye Berlin) and there is a lot of that in here but predominantly the book a political treatise. The first few chapters were not fun and you're bombarded with dense politic language that focuses on the failures of communism and the Western interpretation of the events taking place in the east. But then Milosz slows down (and loosens up), providing a more human and personal account. This comes in the form of the chapters about Alpha, Beta, Gamma, and Delta, four people who, like the writer, are forged by the war and the following communist era of the Soviet Union. These chapters give a little more colour to the otherwise beige world of communist Poland. Milosz is obviously not a fan of Stalin and the lie of the Soviet Union but the scales are never entirely removed from his eyes in regards to the utopian dream of a progressive socialism in general. These characters allow him to explore his ideas and, through their communism, nationalism, antisemitism (as well as their work as poets and philosophers), an opportunity to provide context to the environment Milosz is taking about. I would say the book is VERY much of its time and doesn't really offer much insight into the modern world. It's a book worth reading purely for the contemporary criticism of something, from a modern perspective, which seems painfully obvious to us now. Namely that communism is authoritarian garbage. That aside, the book belongs in the past. At least for now. 5/10

The Yellow Wallpaper (1892) Charlotte Perkins Gilman A very interesting short story about a woman suffering from depression who is taken by her husband John (a physician) to a country mansion to rest and recuperate. She has recently given birth to a child and this may also be a cause in her mental health deterioration. While there, she becomes obsessed with the yellow wallpaper on the bedroom wall and with the pattern upon it which she believes resembles a woman. After a while, she begins to think the woman is creeping on all fours and trying to escape from the wallpaper. Given that this was written in 1892, it deals with the subject matter in an interesting and modern way. At first, it seems her husband is very caring and wants to help her but as the book goes along, she reveals that she is more of a captive than we first thought. Her narration is therefore unreliable to say the least. And by the end of the story, she is positively lost in her mental breakdown. The most obvious interpretation of the book is to view it as a feminist exploration of how women with mental health issues were treated back then. But this has a contradictory element. The assumption being that women's mental health issues were dismissed as hysterical or a 'touch of the nerves.' But this implies that men's mental health issues were, in comparison, somehow taken seriously. Or, conversely, that men didn't have these kinds of breakdowns at all. Which is obviously at odds with the interpretation given. I know we must look at everything through the lens of identity these days but I find that kind of simplistic overview a little bemusing. Sometimes, you're not being oppressed, you're simply not being understood. 6/10

The Discovery of Heaven (1992) Harry Mulisch A ripping yarn of a novel. The story revolves around Max and Onno, two Dutch men who meet in the 60s, become friends, and later become entwined in a love triangle with a woman called Ada. The book develops over decades, across the 70s and 80s, and deals with philosophical and religious themes. I loved the first half of the book; watching the highly intelligent and charismatic Max interact with the cultured and dry witted Onno was wonderful. Their relationship was a delight and seeing them spar was enormously entertaining. So entertaining, in fact, that I completely ignored the chapters where two angels discuss the events of the book (a thing that I found irritating and vacuous). But sadly, by the hallway point, I was done. After that, the book speeds up so that we can watch Quentin (the son of both men) grow up as fast as possible (he has absolutely no life nor hinterland because of this), and become the chosen one or something. I just didn't care by this point. By the final third, I was literally skim reading so that I could get to the end (which builds to a climactic denouement that both fizzles out and wasn't worth it). The writing's great. But the novel meanders off a cliff into an unconvincing religious epiphany that might appeal to believers out there but simply rang hollow and seemed silly to me. That all being said, if plot driven novels or books that toy with a sense of the profound (especially in the religious sense) are your thing, then I would definitely recommend it. The book is clearly very good. It just happens to combine the two things I don't really care for in literature: third person plot driven narratives and chattering angels (the fact that the book began with them was a big concern although it did get much better). The book was very easy to read but you're quickly invested in the two men (that part of the book is superb) so the moment it stops being about them, Mulisch slightly loses the impetus. He obviously has a bigger story to tell but it wasn't one I was interested in. Had the book simply ended with Max and Onno going to the movies that would have been fine with me. But instead we get comas, meteorites, concentration camps, murder, communism, the ten commandments, Francis Bacon. Oh and those boring angels again. I dunno. This just isn't my thing. 7/10

Suddenly a large dog burst into the room and everyone ran outside. The dog appeared to be...

What's Love Got to Do with It - Tina Turner

Sausage

Home

Elle (2012) Philippe Djian Do women secretly want to be raped? Shucks, I dunno but let's discuss it... So Elle (Michele) begins the book by telling us that she has just been raped in her own home by a man wearing a ski mask. While this is obviously at the forefront of her mind, she nonetheless continues with her daily life in much the same way she might have done otherwise. Before long, she is narrating predominantly about the mundane things in her life such as her mother (Irene), a sexually voracious 75-year-old with a new toyboy lover, her son (Vincent) who has shacked up with a pregnant girl (not his), her best friend and business partner Annie (whose husband, Robert, she is having an affair with). I could go on because, my God, there is so much going on with these people and it's all rather melodramatic. I haven't even mentioned her father who is in prison for committing a truly horrendous crime. As the book goes on, Michele not only discovers the identity of the rapist but... eek! she actually begins playing along with these encounters, agreeing to scream and fight and let him physically assault her (often with sincere violence). They essentially develop two personas, the one they use in polite society and the one they use for their sexual games. Djian does a fairly good job of making her motivations convincing but ultimately you do spend most of the book thinking... what is wrong with you? The people involved are, of course, all living rather bland middle-class lives and yes, I agree that human beings are ultimately designed for visceral experiences of survival, (trust me, I had an ex who shared traits with Elle) but being members of the bourgeoisie who are dulled by ennui isn't quite enough to justify the bloated amount of melodrama here. Djian really overloads the narrative with it. Presumably because without the rape aspect, he's got very little to give us. So he offers an intense amount of noisy people whose lives are packed with incident (mass murder, foreign prisons, several affairs, other people's children, a struggling business, horny old people, violence, car crashes, and an ageing cat). Djian just slings it all at you and yes, it's actually very entertaining. But my god, it isn't literature. That all being said, I did rather enjoy it. Maybe because it made me think of that naughty ex. 7/10

Yearn

The Sandman (1817) E.T.A Hoffman A wonderful, albeit very short story from 1817 which, along with Mary Shelley and Poe, is very much part of the gothic tradition. The story begins with three letters concerning the childhood incident of a young boy called Nathanael who experienced a genuine fear of The Sandman. Later he attaches this personality to a business partner of his father's called Coppelius who disappears from their life after his father's death. As an adult, Nathanael encounters a man named Coppola and believes that he is the same sandman. His friends and family suggest this is merely a creation of his own mind. Then Nathanael meets Spallanzani, his teacher, and falls in love with his daughter Olimpia. What follows is a genuinely creepy discovery that is both ancient in its eerie nature but also curiously modern. It involves Olimpia and results in some sincerely interesting notions about the individual, the self, the human. I found this very notion both profoundly disturbing but also very much ahead of its time. It's hard to explain without certain spoilers but ultimately it concerns what it means to be human and how we define these traits and know (if we can ever know) who is genuinely conscious and who is merely... a puppet. A fun and fascinating little read. 7/10

Flights (2007) Olga Tokarczuk I've written several reviews where I criticise authors who throw their vignettes and short stories together and pretend it's a novel. Just write a damn book of short stories for Christ's sake! Anyway, here we go again. This time the 'theme' is travel (and maybe the human body) and some of the stories are mildly diverting but not much more. Between each story, there is a woman narrating in the present about her own trips around the world. She is presumably the thread keeping this narrative together. The best story by far is the first one about a husband and wife and their young child on holiday on a Croatian island. The mother and child get out of the car to go for a pee in the bushes but go missing. What follows is an intense and gripping page turner about the husband and the police's search for them. Then were done and move on to the next one. There's one about Philip Verheyen, the Dutch anatomist, which focuses in his relationship with his amputated leg. One about a sailor. A professor. A woman who hangs about with a crazy train gypsy or something (I'd lost interest by this point). I really don't care for this stuff at all. It's maudlin and glib. And there is something tediously pretentious and self-indulgent about it. The books only saving grace is that Tokarczuk's writing is always very accessible and easy to read. I actually liked the first half but once it becomes clear that it's just her attempt at being Sebald, the novelty wears off very quickly. Again, the writing's good but it's only in service of the banal and the forgettable. I liked 'Drive your Plow' quite a lot but was never that impressed and this book has only further confused me. I guess anyone can win a Nobel prize these days. I might need to read her earlier works to grasp the hype. Anyway... I would recommend it because the writing is fluid and clean and the subject matter is worth exploring but it wasn't for me. 5/10

The Conspiracy Against the Human Race (2010) Thomas Ligotti A non-fiction piece which ostensibly focuses on the work of Peter Zapffe, a Norwegian philosopher who belived that consciousness was an evolutionary blunder which took the human species away from being part of the natural. As such, Zapffe belived that we, as a species, should explore the possibility that non-existence is preferable to existence; that the whole human race should consider antinatalism, allow itself to leave, to end the cycle of birth and death, that we should simply opt out of existence. The book is superbly written and very enjoyable to read. Ligotti looks at the ideas of various philosophers and writers (mostly those who write of the supernatural) and does so with a deft touch that makes the reading experience very entertaining. He identifies thinkers who, via philosophy, psychology, or fiction, have addressed the issue of being alive and whether or not it is, for want of a better term, worth it. Despite his even-handedness, it seems clear from the outset that he does not. While I enjoyed the book, there was nothing in it that I wasn't already familiar with and, should you want a greater, more in-depth analysis of the subject matter, I would recommend the writers and thinkers he refences more so that this book. Zapffe in particular. In essence this is a simplified version of complex ideas which, understandably given Ligotti's horror fiction background, he makes a little more accessible via their relationship with horror and the supernatural. Existence and consciousness are, after all, a horror story. As a means of producing an easy to digest and easy to understand exploration of these ideas I would highly recommend the book. Very interesting stuff. But ultimately nothing too deep or heavy. 7/10

The Virgin Suicides (1993) Jeffrey Eugenides The story of five sisters who commit suicide. This is not a spoiler as the book opens by telling us this (and the methods used). But really the story predominantly deals with Lux (the second eldest) as she becomes the focus of the narrator's attention (which appears to be a boy (or a group of boys) looking back on the events). Once the youngest, Cecilia, has attempted suicide (cutting her wrists) but fails, and later jumps off the roof (succeeding this time), the narrative zooms in on Lux as the central character despite all the other sisters (Bonnie, Mary and Theresa) also commuting suicide. Make of that what you will (given that she also becomes very sexually promiscuous, it felt clear to me that some insinuation of sexual abuse was evident in the family but this is never made explicit). Regardless, the book is very much about Lux and it seems silly to ignore the fact that huge chunky chapters are dedicated to her and her experiences while the other girls (save for Cecilia) essentially become background characters, footnotes. Again, this feels very intentional. I found the writing to be perfectly entertaining but never anything more. But I found the ethereal nature of the girls (like they were beautiful ghosts) a little tedious (and presumptuous). Eugenides fetishises these young girls as other worldly beings, sexualised without being too overt, turning them into non-humans who merely exist to be fascinating creatures to others. And again, I would say that was deliberate but I still didn't really find it especially ground breaking or original. As pleasant as the reading experience was (it zipped by), I never really found anything meaningful in the book beyond the potential exploration of our need to otherise pretty girls (and even that was never entirely convincing). But it was okay. I would mostly recommend it. 7/10

Spider (1990) Patrick Mcgrath I can't recall where I first heard about this book but a brief glance at the synopsis (a man wandering the streets struggling with his mental illness) appealed to my natural inclination for nihilistic literature. But the book wasn't quite what I thought it would be. Yes, the main character (Dennis Cleg or Spider) is a man with mental health issues who regularly takes walks by the canal but the book is more about his reminisces regarding a traumatic childhood incident than anything else. The story he tells about his mother and father, however, is enormously engaging and quickly sucked me in. But then halfway through the book, we begin to discover that Spider might not be the most reliable of narrators. The story switches from the one he is telling us about his parents and becomes more focused on his twenty years in an asylum. This is all well and good but the problem I had was that I was actually enjoying the story of his childhood and was frankly fascinated to discover what happened next. As such, I was not that interested in his current mental state or the asylum he was living in. But it becomes clear that the reason for this sudden change of pace is to reiterate that Spider's version of events (the story he is telling us) might not actually be very accurate. You can see the twist coming a mile off and part of me hoped McGrath would subvert my expectations (but he didn't). I wanted the story of his parents to continue but once we get the reveal, there's very little point in doing so. And that's part of the problem. Nonetheless, I enjoyed the book and found the prose both inventive and fluid. But I really don't care for books with plot twists of this nature. Not unless there's something a little unique about it (something surreal or creepy or ambiguous). I couldn't help but feel a little short changed. That being said I really liked the book but simply found my interest waning once it becomes clear that Spider's memory of events couldn't be trusted. Definitely worth a read though. 7/10

The Tenant (1964) Roland Topor This was fantastic. A man named Trelkovsky is looking for a new apartment and comes across one that is available due to the attempted suicide of the previous tenant. She didn't die but is bandaged and speechless in hospital after coming out of a coma and he visits her there, meeting one of her friends, Stella, in the process. After moving into the apartment, he discovers that the woman (Simone Choule) has sadly died. As soon as Trelkovsky moves in, it becomes apparent that his neighbours (and landlord) are a bunch of unctuous curtain-twitchers who love to moan about the excessive noise he makes. He becomes increasingly paranoid and cautious about their judgements and snide whispering. At the same time, he becomes more fascinated by the death and apparent suicide of Simone Choule and ruminates on what might have caused it. What follows is a curious obsession and mania which culminates in one of the most disturbing and creepy endings I think I've ever come across. It's difficult to speak about this book without giving away important spoilers. Suffice it to say, Trelkovsky's obsession takes him over and his descent into madness is wonderfully realised, a slow process that builds cleverly through character relationships and discoveries. The little details are sublime and the writing, always concise and clear but occasionally profound, is a joy to read. The chapters fly by and provide a pace and structure that is almost too perfect for words. All the way to the end, I couldn't be certain if what was happening was actually happening or if it was something else entirely. Only the epilogue offers any definitive answer to this and while it's monstrously creepy, it is, ultimately, a conclusion that comes entirely from Trelkovsky's own perspective. So we still don't really know what was going on. I loved the way Torpor maintained a simplistic approach and grounded everything in reality. The story, events, and writing, are all very matter of fact. It allowed for the spiraling uncertainty, the eerie fog, to be more convincing and more perverse. The moment when Trelkovsky wakes up 'looking different' caused a shudder to go through me without ever taking me away from that feeling of everything being very down to earth. It's hard to explain. Certain books are just very good at keeping their toes in the water of reality even when things become bizarre and unnatural. This was an amazing exploration of paranoia and a pleasure to read. 10/10

Guignol's Band (1944) Louis Ferdinand Celine A wounded first world war soldier (Ferdinand) is traipsing around London sometime in the mid 1910s (maybe around 1916/17) and doing his best to get by. He associates with pimps and prostitutes as well as other French exiles, and goes from one nihilistic encounter to the next, always aware, in some capacity, that he must eventually leave (even if it means going back to the war). I'm not sure how many writers change style as violently at this. You can certainly see the progression from 'Journey' to 'Death on Credit' in regards to his prose but here, from the very off, there is a definite stream of consciousness manner to it all; but it's uniquely Celine, a scatter gun approach that is relentless and rapid and never lets up. I'm not sure others would necessarily describe it as stream of consciousness but I don't see how it could be anything else given how internal and personal it is. The language is a ceaseless onslaught of immediacy and reaction. There is no narration, only a gushing of thought and action. And the truth is, I actually quite liked it, certainly more than the precursor of 'Death on Credit' which is a kind of halfway house between 'Voyage' and this. Ultimately, I found it rather effective and strangely enjoyable to read. The book is filled with all the usual nihilistic and cynical experiences associated with Celine. The part of the book where he tracks down his friend Borokrom at the pawnbrokers (Claben) and the four of them (including the maid Delphine) get high on booze and 'funny' cigarettes until they're out of their minds and committing atrocious acts upon one another is especially bleak. Celine turns what is essentially a grim series of actions into a ludicrous farce and apathetic nothing. The whole encounter is toxic and vile yet weirdly absurd and surreal. Then comes the house fire to obliterate the entire episode with an utterly cold and heartless conclusion. And off we go again, back into the sewer of the London streets. When Ferdinand goes to the consulate and demands to be sent back to the war, I was genuinely moved by Celine's description of his dead pals, describing them all stood there in front of him, pale and miserable, guts pouring from their stomachs, disemboweled chunks of flesh and man. I couldn't help but think this was the ultimate purpose of the narrative, the motivation behind both the character and real life experiences of Celine. Essentially, this book takes place between the war and going to Africa in 'Voyage' and you can certainly understand why Celine would want to revisit this period. Never has London seemed so seedy. 8/10