Hux Book Blog 2022 (Spoilers)

[Hux]

Agostino (1945) Alberto Moravia

 

Short, coming-of-age novella about a boy called Agostino who, at the age of thirteen, begins to see that the world is slightly different from what it had previously been. He and his wealthy windowed mother are holidaying by the beach and taking boat rides together when a young man introduces himself into his mother's life. From here, Agostino begins to have an awakening which is further encouraged after he encounters a group of working-class boys (this also seems to be one of the themes of the book) who spend their time fighting, making fun of each other, stealing, and hanging around with a very suspicious man in his fifties (it is strongly implied that he is regularly engaged in consensual sexual activity with one of the boys which the others find amusing).

In the meantime, Agostini is beginning to notice (with the help of his new friends) that his mother is not just his mother but she is also a woman, with all the curves, mysteries, and attractions that all women possess. Where before her presence projected safety and warmth, she is now a symbol of his nascent fascination with the female form; this both attracts and repulses him. Until he finds a means of replacing her with an alternative in the discovery of a brothel where he wrongly believes his burgeoning interest in sexual matters will manifest a solution.

As someone who experienced the sudden arrival of sexual intrigue as a boy, this all felt very familiar to me. It's slightly disconcerting how the experiences of young boys in the '20s can be so similar to those a good century later. As a boy, me and my friend met a curious older man who was interested in young boys (nothing happened). As a boy, I also began to see my mother (specifically her relations with men) in a new light, one which altered my view of her as being merely a mother. I think Moravia quite brilliantly captures that awful moment when you're a boy of 12 or 13 when the world of sex and sexuality redefines everything in your life... forever.

The book is shorter than I realised and very easy to read. Excellent.

 

8/10

Edited July 4, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Shyness and Dignity (1999) Dag Solstad

 

A short novella about a man having a breakdown/epiphany/ awakening/you decide. Elias Rukla is a school teacher who teaches bored ungrateful 18-year-olds about Ibsen. After school one day (where he has once again failed to reach the pupils on any level) he becomes frustrated and destroys his umbrella in front of a crowd of bemused school kids. As he walks away, hands cut by the umbrellas ribs, he begins reminiscing about his life, specifically his student days and meeting his best friend Johan then later Johan's beautiful wife, Eva. After a few years Johan simply leaves his wife and young daughter behind to pursue a life in New York, abandoning everything (including his best friend Elias). Eventually, Elias and Eva begin seeing each other and build a life together, Elias taking on the responsibilities of being a husband and stepfather, all despite Eva not being in love with him.

I enjoyed this for the most part. I liked the themes it played with concerning frustrated ambitions, cultural malaise, the lack of a stimulating interlocutor, as well as the numbing ointment of possessing conventional (and socially approved of) successes (such as a beautiful wife). Elias spends a great deal of time talking about Eva's beauty and even more so about how it has faded as she approaches 50. In many ways, the disappeared Johan becomes a kind of symbol for those who have chosen to live the life they truly want (regardless of how many people it might hurt), while Elias embodies the unfulfilled life you quietly accept (shyly, with dignity). Until, of course, he experiences the classic mid-life crisis.

The book has no chapters and just meanders along as a wall of text to the end (which I don't care for) but this isn't entirely without justification. There is a stream-of-consciousness element to the book after all (less so the writing style itself), and a defeated man thinking about his life decisions over a short period of time. For the most part, I enjoyed the reading experience. He also references 'The Unbearable Lightness of Being' which this book reminded me of, sharing similar ideas as well as presentation style (though obviously not as good).

Overall, a very good piece.

 

7/10

 

Edited July 8, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Death on Credit (1936) Louis Ferdinand Celine

 

Death on Credit (or death on the installment plan) is essentially a prequel to Journey to the end of the night. Celine's alter ego now reminisces about his childhood and adolescence, the vast majority of which revolves around his abusive and mercurial father and his (cartoonishly) hysterical mother. Ferdinand then endeavours to get work but always appears to fall flat before engaging in a series of sexual escapades that border on the fantastical (it's hard not to find them almost comical in their ludicrous unrealistic portrayals). His experiences in a English boarding school contains a segment at the end which can only be described as... absolute horseshit (in the sense that it's hilarious). After that there's more whining from his parents before Ferdinand hooks up with an inventor (Courtial) who gives him a job at his magazine and gets him to help with his hot air balloon shenanigans. The book ends with Ferdinand, Courtial and Courtial's wife heading for the country where they hope to make it big in agriculture.

For me, the book doesn't come close to the exquisite quality of Journey. Everything that made that books so compelling is slightly overdone here. The use of ellipses to control and influence the writing was used sparingly in Journey but here, it's just every single sentence. 'I went to the shop... Then bought some cheese... I saw the shopkeeper's daughter... She said hello.' After a while, it starts to lose any of the impact it had in Journey and simply becomes a thing... that's there... constantly. Not that it spoils things, it's just over used in my opinion. Likewise, the use of repetition is heavy handed. In Journey, it was sporadic and effective but here it's just relentless. I'd say about 50% of the book is just descriptions of his mother's exaggerated histrionics. She implored... she implored... she implored. Then five pages later. She implored... she implored... she implored. I'll admit, Celine hits you over the head with this stuff so much that it seeps into your brain and gives you a real sense of being saturated in the experience. But it's just not that fun to read.

Fundamentally, what made Journey so good was the variety of experiences (War, sailing, Africa, New York, Paris etc). Death on Credit, however, stays in the same places and with the same people for too long until you're craving something new. The most thrilling part of the book for me was when he goes to boarding school in England and finally, we have new characters and experiences to explore (rather than just more of his mother's melodramatic swooning). This was such a fun part of the book where we meet the kid who barks like a dog and sucks off the other boys. Where we meet the beautiful wife of the school master. As well as Jongkind, the mentally retarded boy. Suddenly, things are interesting, well paced, original, exciting, and unique again. But it doesn't last long.

That all being said, Celine still conjures up a world that drills its way into your head and paints a picture which is thoroughly detailed and real (all done with endless repetition). His cynicism is as present as ever, his nihilism, his low opinion of mankind. It's hard not to like. I just wish there could have been a few more moments of respite from the persistent (and often punishing) onslaught of repetition.

 

8/10

[Hux]

Dream Story (1926) Arthur Schnitzler

 

A sublime novella that explores reality, dreams, sexuality, and guilt. Fridolin, a doctor, and his wife, Albertine, are putting their daughter to bed. After this they begin having an earnest discussion about their recent holiday to Denmark. Both of them confess to having been sexually attracted to other people on the holiday and agree to confess any such similar feelings in the future. The following day, Fridolin goes on his rounds visiting a patient who has died. He wanders the streets of Vienna and stops in a coffee shop where he bumps into his old friend, Nachtigall, a pianist. Nachtigall tells him a tale of his current occupation which involves being blindfolded, and given a secret password, and taken to different mansions where he plays for the guests. Occasionally, he will get a glimpse of what is happening and see naked men and women wearing masks. Fridolin is intrigued and convinces Nachtigall to provide the password. He follows him in a night coach and enters the party with the password. Inside, he sees all the naked women but is asked by someone to provide the secondary password. He is cornered. Then a woman comes to his aide, at enormous cost to herself, but he doesn't entirely know why.

What follows is a bizarre and very dreamlike adventure. At one point, his wife literally gives him the details of one of her dreams and the whole thing feels very familiar and lingers to the point where you can't be sure if anything is real or not. The woman's motivations, the married couple's sexual desires and interests, all confused and swirling in a haze of Viennese coffee shops, antisemitism and sex workers. Apparently this book was the basis for Kubrick's 'Eyes Wide Shut.'

I really enjoyed this. It had shades of Bataille's 'Story of the Eye' as well as Chesterton's 'The Man Who Was Thursday.' It was a delight to read. A mystery which is never solved. Like most dreams I suppose.

 

9/10

[Hux]

The Selected Works of Edgar Allan Poe (1830s/40s)

 

A collection of short stories, some wonderful, some slightly forgettable, but all written in utterly sublime prose. Personally speaking, I was mostly impressed with the stories that dealt with guilt rather than straight-up horror. That being said 'The Black Cat' stood out as the most macabre and haunting (and the creepy nature of 'The Facts in the Case of M. Valdemar' was fun). And I enjoyed 'The Pit and the Pendulum.' But the more famous stories (The Fall of the House of Usher and The Tell-Tale Heart) didn't entirely bowl me over (maybe because I had higher expectations for those). I was especially pleased with 'William Wilson.' This story immediately made me think of 'Fight Club.' The protagonist dealing with a doppelganger/alternative version of himself, one who torments and frustrates him at every turn.

And speaking of inspiring other works, I must confess I knew nothing of the character Dupin, the genius French detective who is patently the origin of Sherlock Holmes. As I was reading 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' I instantly wanted to shout... 'but this is clearly Sherlock!' I mean, it's so transparent. How did Doyle get away with that? Having read a couple of Holmes stories, I was entirely in the grips of experiencing deja vu as I read the piece. I was slightly perplexed by the bizarre reveal of the guilty party in the story but was utterly entranced by the writing and the narration by Dupin's unnamed friend (the Watson character). And then, in 'The Purloined Letter' all that was missing was a pipe and a deer stalker.

Some of the stories (like 'The Balloon Hoax' and 'The Duc L'Omelett') left me somewhat underwhelmed. But even when I was reading these less appealing entries, Poe's style and flourish was always engaging. The prose always gives the impression of great intelligence at work, a mind exploring all manner of dark and fanciful ideas with rich, wonderful language. I think this collection contains a good mixture of his work (it ends with the fantastic 'The Raven') and I would highly recommend it.

 

8/10

 

Edited August 11, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Bread and Wine (1936) Ignazio Silone

 

An exiled socialist named Pietro Spina returns to fascist Italy and, with the authorities on his trail, and with the help of some old friends, masquerades as a priest named Don Paolo hiding out in the small mountain village of Pietrasecca. Here, he intends to recuperate from illness and keep a low profile, but he becomes the favourite of many of the villagers, especially his landlady, and is expected to perform the role of priest more thoroughly than he imagined. He meets and develops feelings for the a young girl named Cristina. All while remaining active in the socialist movement and maintaining connections with those in Rome who know his true identity. He uses his time to find meaning in his beliefs, both political and spiritual.

I really enjoyed this. It's nothing groundbreaking or original, just an exceptionally well-written novel that is thoroughly engrossing. The language is straight-forward with short breezy chapters, though Silone uses occasional metaphors and aphorisms (especially of a religious nature) throughout the book as well as the rich language of Catholicism. The descriptions of the Italian countryside are wonderful, both constructive for the reader and pleasantly pastoral; this applies to the people as well, not to mention the (many) donkeys that transit them.

The books themes are very heavily anti-fascist which also includes a strong condemnation of Stalin's brand of communism. Pietro struggles with the idea that too many people simply conform to the mainstream interpretation of their tribe's ideology without critical thinking -- something he is unwilling to do. If we aren't willing to criticise the party then we're no better than the fascists. Similarly, he struggles with his atheism, this now more prominent since he is masquerading as a priest and having to become a spiritual guide for many of the villagers. Fortunately, he has the help of the real priest Don Benedetto to rely on (someone who knows his true identity). And then, of course, there's the issue of sexuality which, in my opinion, is slightly confused in the conduct of Pietro, almost as if his clothing and pretence of being a celibate priest is influencing his biological state. Early in the book, for example, when he is hiding out in a barn, he encounters a frisky young woman who agrees to meet him later for sex. But when they meet, they mutually agree not to pursue any physical intercourse, as though this is the beginning of some kind of hitherto unrequired purity. His romantic feelings for Cristina, however, seem almost saintly by comparison (as do hers).

My only criticism of the book would be the the slight over romanticisation of the peasants. Pietro, like Silone, is yet another educated middle-class socialist trying to liberate the poor (while they're busy working for a living). It's all a little simplistic. That being said, Silone acknowledges this himself a couple of times, noting that "socialism is for the well fed." Otherwise, the book is hugely entertaining and lacks any of the cynicism (or nihilism) which I usually enjoy.

A very engaging novel.

 

8/10

 

Edited August 20, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Satantango (1985) Laszlo Krasznahorkai

 

This is a hard one to review. I loved the setting, this dreary, almost post-apocalyptic estate that could be either the 1970s or the 2090s. The narrator gives so little information yet conveys a sense of bleakness that is hard to ignore. Likewise, the characters have only the bare minimum personalities, yet they engage in such petty trivialities, like real people, that its hard not to picture them as clearly thought-out individuals. They stumble about this estate, seeking means of making their fortune, drinking in the pub, dreaming of a better life. Then along comes Irimias, a charismatic swindler who has a knack for telling people what they want to hear. He returns to the estate just as a young girl has accidently poisoned herself (the best chapter) and uses this tragedy to manipulate the many docile inhabitants. He cons them into giving it all up and moving to a new estate, one equally as decrepit and abandoned as their own.

There's so much to love about this book and I totally understand its reputation. But the truth is I found the walls of text (no paragraph breaks) and the meandering sentences (often providing information that is evidently of little consequence) just became somewhat oppressive for me. I just didn't enjoy reading the thing and felt like I was forcing myself to get through it. This is all the more annoying when you know what you're reading is indeed excellent. You can patently see the artistry in his craft, the imagination in his words, the cleverness in his prose. But I just struggled to get lost in any of it (with a handful of exceptions) and found it hard to enjoy.

The ending, similarly, has another twist which, in other circumstances, I might have loved, but by that point in proceedings I was just happy to have reached the end. I can recognise the brilliance of this work whilst simultaneously acknowledging that it was a bit of a slog to read. As such, it's hard to adequately asses or fully critique the book, but I would ultimately recommend it.

 

6/10

[Hayley]

On 8/11/2022 at 11:37 PM, Hux said:

As I was reading 'The Murders in the Rue Morgue' I instantly wanted to shout... 'but this is clearly Sherlock!'

I find the Dupin stories really interesting in terms of their influence. I know that a lot of people consider it to be the first example of detective fiction. It's also (definitely, as far as I'm aware) the first 'locked room' mystery .

[Hux]

11 hours ago, Hayley said:

I find the Dupin stories really interesting in terms of their influence. I know that a lot of people consider it to be the first example of detective fiction. It's also (definitely, as far as I'm aware) the first 'locked room' mystery .

 

I was unaware of Dupin. The similarities are vast.

[lunababymoonchild]

13 hours ago, Hux said:

 

I was unaware of Dupin. 

Me too

[Hux]

White Noise (1985) Don DeLillo

 

This was extremely straight-forward and easy to read and, as such, I enjoyed the experience for the most part (somewhat losing interest as it neared the end). It's the story of a middle-aged academic called Jack who is married to Babette and has several kids and stepkids. He is preoccupied with a fear of death which is exacerbated after coming into contact with a toxic gas cloud which may have theoretically speeded up his demise. Meanwhile, his wife is taking an experimental drug which apparently alleviates fear of death.

As I said, it's very easy to read with simplistic prose which plods along nicely and has lots of fun, punchy dialogue. The characters are straight-forward and function as well as can be expected given that they're being used as props. But ultimately, the book is somewhat forgettable. It has nothing much to say on any meaningful level beyond, what is, a very American understanding of daily life. That being said the postmodernist triviality which America has embraced is now spreading here so maybe it has more to say in the current climate. But I don't think so. Ultimately, Europe will reject this garbage for the low intelligence gibberish it is. By all means, study it as a mildly diverting notion at university but don't actually apply it to your civilisation, you silly Americans.

And while DeLillo does indeed make excellent satirical points here, they all feel ultimately wasted. I liked the way the book highlighted America's education system becoming increasingly lost in a haze of infantile gestures and social construct concepts, for example, but it felt like a slightly empty gesture (albeit fun). The chapter where his son Heinrich refuses to acknowledge that it's raining because... what is rain, what is now, what is truth? was nicely effective in demonstrating the sophistry of such a banal worldview. Little did DeLillo know how rooted it already was in America and how much worse it would become. These are all nice little touches but the fact remains the book is of no meaningful literary significance. It has nothing profound to say and very little in the way of inspiring prose.

It was mostly fun to read but not much more.

 

7/10

[Hux]

The Discomfort of Evening (2020) Marieke Lucas Rijnevdld

 

The story of a ten-year-old girl called Jas who lives on a farm in Holland with a religious family. She has two brothers and a sister. Early in the book, one of the brothers dies and this informs the whole narrative as we watch the mother succumb to depression and the father neglect his children. In turn, the children's grief is given no outlet and they begin to experiment with their burgeoning sexuality, with animal cruelty, and religious ideation, all whilst suffocating in a confused mental state.

The book is mostly well-written and extremely easy to read. But like so many contemporary novels it festers in clichés and a manipulative narrative. As I was reading the book, I was reminded of other (very) similar books that have won or been nominated for the Booker Prize. Specifically 'The Gathering' by Anne Enright and 'Elmet' by Fiona Mozley. These also wallowed in the tried-and-tested banality of having either child narrators (who are conveniently adult when it suits them) or characters who are suicidal or affected by a sudden and tragic death. Frankly, I'm bored of reading these kinds of books and consider them to be hack pieces written for a public who confuse basic human sadness for some kind of artistic profundity. Those books, like this one, offered very little in the way of anything authentic or meaningful. It's just the same tired clichés and sadness porn that appeals to the unthinking. It just isn't very interesting to me.

I'm becoming quite irritated by the Booker Prize because the simple fact is... I never would have bothered reading this without their hype. They, much like publishers in general, need to stop promoting the same crap over and over again. I don't care if the author is the first black, gay, or non-binary winner of the blah blah prize. That's as relevant to me as being the first Sagittarius to win it. I've already read this book. I've read it so many times. And when the ending came, I sighed because I literally saw it coming after reading the first few chapters.

But yeah, it's easy to read. So if that's your bar, then fill yer boots.

 

6/10

 

Edited September 16, 2022 by Hux

[lunababymoonchild]

1 hour ago, Hux said:

The Discomfort of Evening (2020) Marieke Lucas Rijnevdld

 

The story of a ten-year-old girl called Jas who lives on a farm in Holland with a religious family. She has two brothers and a sister. Early in the book, one of the brothers dies and this informs the whole narrative as we watch the mother succumb to depression and the father neglect his children. In turn, the children's grief is given no outlet and they begin to experiment with their burgeoning sexuality, with animal cruelty, and religious ideation, all whilst suffocating in a confused mental state.

The book is mostly well-written and extremely easy to read. But like so many contemporary novels it festers in clichés and a manipulative narrative. As I was reading the book, I was reminded of other (very) similar books that have won or been nominated for the Booker Prize. Specifically 'The Gathering' by Anne Enright and 'Elmet' by Fiona Mozley. These also wallowed in the tried-and-tested banality of having either child narrators (who are conveniently adult when it suits them) or characters who are suicidal or affected by a sudden and tragic death. Frankly, I'm bored of reading these kinds of books and consider them to be hack pieces written for a public who confuse basic human sadness for some kind of artistic profundity. Those books, like this one, offered very little in the way of anything authentic or meaningful. It's just the same tired clichés and sadness porn that appeals to the unthinking. It just isn't very interesting to me.

I'm becoming quite irritated by the Booker Prize because the simple fact is... I never would have bothered reading this without their hype. They, much like publishers in general, need to stop promoting the same crap over and over again. I don't care if the author is the first black, gay, or non-binary winner of the blah blah prize. That's as relevant to me as being the first Sagittarius to win it. I've already read this book. I've read it so many times. And when the ending came, I sighed because I literally saw it coming after reading the first few chapters.

But yeah, it's easy to read. So if that's your bar, then fill yer boots.

 

6/10

 

I don't finish books that I'm not enjoying. I put the book down and assume that I made a mistake in my own taste when picking it and then move on to something that I will like, hopefully. Choosing authors that I've never read before brings this risk but I'm more pleasantly surprised than I am disappointed. But that's just me. If you know that you don't like these books why pay attention to prize giving like the Booker Prize? And if you knew that you didn't like it as you read it, why continue?

 

These are genuine requests for information, I'm not interested in starting an argument.

[Hux]

5 hours ago, lunababymoonchild said:

I don't finish books that I'm not enjoying. I put the book down and assume that I made a mistake in my own taste when picking it and then move on to something that I will like, hopefully. Choosing authors that I've never read before brings this risk but I'm more pleasantly surprised than I am disappointed. But that's just me. If you know that you don't like these books why pay attention to prize giving like the Booker Prize? And if you knew that you didn't like it as you read it, why continue?

 

These are genuine requests for information, I'm not interested in starting an argument.

 

I keep giving the Booker the benefit of the doubt. Aren't they suppose to have some semblance of insight regarding literature? This book will probably be the end of that though. I need to wean myself off thinking that this is anything more than a business model. They're increasingly giving awards to the author's identity rather than the work. 

 

As for the book itself, I didn't actually dislike it -- it was perfectly readable. But it was nothing more.

 

Additionally, even if I'm not enjoying a book I still try to read it to the end as it might contain something that elevates it above the writing, something in the themes or ideas that resonates with me.

 

Edited September 16, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Nothing (2000) Janne Teller

 

One day a boy at school called Pierre Anthon concludes that everything is pointless and has no meaning. He climbs up a plum tree and sits there everyday mocking his school friends as they go to school by pointing out that there no meaning in anything. It is all for nothing. We simply go to school to get a job and we get a job to buy things and we buy things then die. And it is all for nothing.

His class at school detests this idea and come together to prove that he is wrong -- there is meaning. They each agree to meet at an abandoned mill and offer something that has meaning to them. Each person must nominate the next person. To begin with, the things that have meaning to the kids are things like bikes and shoes and boxing gloves. But then things get progressively darker with each turn until one of the kids tells a girl called Sofie that she must add the coffin of her deceased toddler brother. They have to dig up the coffin and add it to the 'heap of meaning' they are slowly accumulating. Then come more gruesome offerings until eventually a girl must give up her innocence. Then a boy must give up his finger. Then soon the police are involved. Then the world's press.

But Pierre Anthon still mocks them for believing that any of it matters; that any of it has meaning.

This was excellent. It's short and I read through the entire thing in just two sittings. It's classed as YA fiction for some reason. I'm not sure why. Perhaps because it involves kids and the prose is stark and crisp and easy to read. But other than that, I can't entirely see why. Understandably, there are echoes of Lord of the Flies and this book plays with ideas that are both fascinating and thought provoking. All of it presented in very straight forward language. Specifically the battle we all engage in everyday to give meaning to our existence despite knowing -- due to that voice in our heads --that there is, in fact, no meaning at all. Everything is pointless.

Maybe that voice within us is best visualised as a boy in a plum tree laughing at our comforting delusions?

 

9/10

 

Edited September 17, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Alone in Berlin (1947) Hans Fallada

 

A sweeping, traditional third person narration that contains myriad characters and plot points but which is very easy to follow and extremely entertaining. The primary plot concerns Otto and Anna Quangel (based on real people) who, after the death of their son on the French front, begin dropping postcards around Berlin as a kind of banal protest against the Nazis. This is as much as they can do and in many ways the whole book is about the ineffectual and clumsy method of resisting something as powerful as the third reich. In the meantime, we encounter several other characters who, often quite tangentially, are connected to the Quangels and their subversive acts. Specifically, inspector Escherich who, to begin with, isn't all that impressed by the triviality of the postcards or their authors. But that soon changes. And eventually, the Gestapo are determined to catch whoever is responsible no matter how ineffectual their campaign might be.

Based on a true story but massively fictionalised. The writing is straight-forward and to-the-point as stories like these tend to be. The prose never needs to be challenging because the book is very much plot driven rather than being literary writing for its own sake (a genre which generally doesn't appeal to me all that much). But this was excellent. The thrill being found in their transgressive resistance combined with the inspector's investigation (not to mention the growing sense of paranoia and terror which various other citizens of Nazi Germany are experiencing).

And that seems to be one of the main themes. The way power corrupts and turns people into monsters often because they too are fearful of the consequences. Escherich goes from benign investigator to a panicked and beaten coward to, finally, the solitary convert of the Quangel's. But the book also romanticises the idea of minimal resistance. Because the truth is almost no-one in the book objects to the Nazis on ethical grounds (judge Fromm aside). Most, if not all of them, began as fervent admirers of Hitler and each have come to despise him for different reasons which don't really touch on the ethical issues. Perhaps Fallada is saying something here. The book, after all, was written in 1947, a time when it was very easy to be an anti-Nazi (when everyone who survived the war probably claimed they always were from the beginning). It's also telling that Borkhausen, an apolitical reprobate, survives the war. Because those who said nothing, and kept their heads down, were not just the condemned but also very often the winners. Whether it be their apathy or their belated ineffectual resistance, both are equally as condemnable.

But the book ends optimistically (albeit with a somewhat cliched contrivance). Borkhausem's son, Kuno, now adopted by Eva, rejects his father and intends to live a fruitful and useful life. Because it isn't genetics that matters when it comes to human decency. It's how we are raised and educated.

 

9/10

[Hux]

As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning (1969) Laurie Lee

 

Much like Sebald's 'Rings of Saturn' there is something of a creative and fictional current running through 'As I Walked Out One Midsummer Morning.' I'm starting to think that travel writers are in possession of the most beautiful language.

Lee begins by leaving his home in Stroud and heading to the south coast where he makes money as a violin busker. He eventually makes his way to London where he works on a building site. But the book really begins when he arrives in Spain, starting at Vigo, moving on to Zamora, Valladolid, Madrid, Toledo, Malaga, Gibraltar, and ending in Almuñécar. He details the people and landscapes of each new place as well as his various encounters with brothels and drinking establishments. Again, he makes a living by playing his violin or simply relying on the kindess of strangers often sleeping rough or making do with whatever comes his way. The book then ends with the beginnings of the civil war.

The real treat of the book, however, is the writing. He has such an amazing turn of phrase and describes things in a manner that produces genuinely provocative images in your mind. Each sentence is beautifully crafted and offers a glorious flow of exquisite prose. Not to mention some very funny (and very British) interpretations. Such as his encounter with a mother pimping her own daughter.

"Then one of them beckoned me indoors and offered me her giant daughter, who lay sprawled on a huge brass bed. The sight of the girl and the bed, packed into that tiny room, was like some familiar 'Alice' nightmare. I could only smile and stutter, clutching the doorpost and pretending not to understand. 'Love!' cried the mother, shaking the bed till it rattled, while the girl bounced slowly like a basking whale. I complimented the woman and made some excuse, saying that it was too early in the day."

 

8/10

[Hux]

My Friends (1924) Emanuel Bove

 

This is everything I love in literature. A first person narration with short chapters, and a self-pitying introspective character who fails to recognise his own limitations but sees them, bright and vibrant, in everyone else. And best of all, a book where the sadness resonates with one's own personal experiences. With that in mind, I think it helps to be a man when reading this.

Victor Baton is a poor man, a veteran of the First World War with wounds to show for it. He tells us of his experiences with five people (his potential friends, you might say) and details how each encounter began and ended. He lives in a dank hotel and dreams of finding love and friendship. He is full of bitterness and self-pity but also manages to possess a delusional sense of superiority regarding his own traits and worth. He is, for want of a better term, a socially anxious incel who believes that he is owed something from the world. He wanders the streets, hoping to make friends, but then betrays these friendships without ever acknowledging his guilt or complicity in their destruction. He makes a friend in Henri Billard, for example, but immediately tries to persuade Henri's mistress to leave him in favour of Victor. When this leads to nothing, he somehow concludes that he is the victim, while Henri, in his mind, is a swindler, a knave, an unworthy man who is being rewarded for his unpleasantness while he, Victor, is caring and nice and honourable. He repeats this behavior with several other characters, behaves inappropriately but continues to believe that he is the one being hard done-by. He is not a likeable character. And yet I adored him. Most men under the age of thirty will. Most men who remember being under the age of thirty will. He is so many young men, in so many different eras. In many ways, it's slightly depressing to think so little has changed in a hundred years.

The book reminded me of so many other books: 'The Catcher in the Rye' and 'No Longer Human.' But mostly, it reminded me of 'The Sundays of Jean Desert.' The only difference being that while the protagonist in that book is aware of his place in the world, accepts it with a cool, almost profound indifference, Victor is confused, lonely and heartbreakingly sad. He is what so many men are at that young age. When I read the words: 'but a woman only has to look at me for me to find her attractive.' I couldn't help but smile and think:. 'Yep, we've all been there, mate.' And I loved how Victor fantasised about the slightest potential future at every available opportunity. He would see a girl and imagine their life together. He would meet a strange, suicidal man and envision a future where they would be best friends with a sincere bond.

He is pathetic. He is beautiful. I loved him. I loved this.

 

10/10

 

Edited October 15, 2022 by Hux

[Hayley]

On 10/6/2022 at 9:02 PM, Hux said:

Alone in Berlin (1947) Hans Fallada

This sounds excellent. I wonder whether your last paragraph should be in spoiler quotes though? Or does knowing that not really matter in terms of the rest of the plot?

[Hux]

9 hours ago, Hayley said:

This sounds excellent. I wonder whether your last paragraph should be in spoiler quotes though? Or does knowing that not really matter in terms of the rest of the plot?

 

I don't think it matters.

 

I think this whole thread should probably have spoiler alerts though. I rarely think about what I'm saying regarding each specific book because I read so few that are plot driven. This was a slight change in my usual tastes. 

 

I can add (spoilers) into the thread title if you want.

[Hux]

The Loser (1983) Thomas Berhard

 

A man reminisces about two friends who have died, one by natural causes, the other by suicide. All three men were great pianists but one (Glenn Gould) had talent far beyond the other two. This is something which the narrator can accept but which the second man, Wertheimer, struggles with. The narrator details the events of their lives, their families, and their failures. Specifically, he focuses on Wertheimer, the loser of the title, and his depression and eventual suicide.

If you've seen the film Amadeus then you've tread this ground before. The gifted coming to terms with their limitations when confronted by actual genius. It's an interesting tale and one worth being told in several ways but I found Berhard's style a little repetitive and hard to engage with. The book has no chapters and no paragraphs and is one long slew of human consciousness making sense of past events. It's essentially stream of consciousness (but with incongruently excellent grammar) and he repeatedly tells us that he is 'walking into an inn' for the first half of the book, once every few pages. Or he ends sentences with 'I thought' on almost every page which seemed unnecessary. It's an interesting idea (the whole book taking place as a man walks into an inn) but Berhard abandons this halfway through and begins to slow the process down entirely (which slightly contradicts the whole flow if you ask me). My history with stream of consciousness has been very hit and miss but one thing I thought this book lacked was actually streams of unfiltered thought. It's all rather well written, structured, and grammatically correct. If you're going to let your thoughts flow then why is everything so neat and tidy?

That aside, I enjoyed the book for the most part and became increasingly engaged as I read (despite the change of pace in the second half). It's interesting that Berhard uses Glenn Gould (an actual pianist but one he never personally met) as the figure which inspires Wertheimer's spiral into self-doubt rather than a fictional character; and I enjoyed the themes surrounding identity and our notions of success and value as human beings. But I can't say I was gripped or moved in any meaningful way. Though I was probably stirred enough to seek out more of his work.

 

7/10

 

Edited October 22, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

The Moviegoer (1961) Walker Percy

 

Hard to judge this one. It was easy to read with some nice prose but it always felt like it was building to something without ever getting there. The descriptions are vague and blurry and I never felt like I had a clear visual of the characters or the setting. Percy's language is meandering and bloated, often pointless and almost self-congratulatory in its banality. Again, it never goes anywhere, it is never in service of anything. For the most part, this didn't spoil the book and I took his odd writing style in my stride as it was (mostly) sufficient in adding colour to the general scene (albeit a somewhat nebulous scene). But then occasionally, I would let it wash over me because the alternative was to read it over and over until it made sense.

"There comes to me in the ascent a brief annunciatory syllable in the throat stopped in the scrape of a chair as if, having signaled me and repenting of it, it had then to pass itself off as but one of the small day noises of the house."

What? Anyway.

The basic story is of Binx Bolling (because American always have to have these kinds of names), a 29-year-old stockbroker who seduces his secretaries and likes to watch movies (and occasionally reference them). He is in search of something, he knows not what. Then there's his aunt and his depressed cousin Kate and a few others. None of them really matter though. None of them get fleshed out. It just plods along.

This book ought to have been right up my street but it never ultimately grabbed me. I kept waiting for something to light up but Percy kept dawdling and naval gazing. It was easy to read, but in the end, it was rather forgettable.

 

6/10

 

Edited October 31, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Invisible Man (1952) Ralph Ellison

 

I avoided this book for a long time, believing it to be an account of experiences that I couldn't really relate to. But having finally read it, it was precisely the kind of book I've always loved, namely a narrative which revolves around a young man finding his place in the world and endeavouring to overcome the obstacles that would allow him to achieve that. Yes, it deals with the black experience (or more specifically, the American black experience which has, in recent years, become the annoying default) but it's more about his struggle with himself and his beliefs about what the world is and can be. I've read many books like this (they're right up my street) and I was reminded of a lot of them (notably 'Hunger' by Knut Hamsun).

The story is about an unnamed young black man from the American south whose life is turned upside down when he is expelled from college. He moves to New York where, after working in a paint factory and having an accident, he gets involved in a (white dominated) equal rights movement. As the story progresses, he becomes an important leader within the movement but increasingly grows uncertain about his role and the people he works for. The turning point comes when another young member of the group is gunned down by the police and he feels that he has been taken advantage of, used, turned into a tool.

Given that this was written in 1952, it's slightly shocking how so much of it is current. Not just the events, but the people. The white women who fetishise black men. The white liberals who want a round of applause for their social justice campaigning. The black business owners informing rioters that they are 'colored businesses' and therefore shouldn't be attacked. It's all very familiar (if you watch American media at least). But the narrator is very composed, always thinking things through. And he recognises that it's not a simple question of black and white (I couldn't help but notice that most of the people that screw him over are black characters).

I enjoyed the book a lot, but always felt slightly detached from it. Less so because he was black, and more so because he was American. This book felt VERY American. And I also thought it was far too long, with large portions that could easily have been cut down without affecting the quality. Otherwise, excellent.

 

8/10

[Hux]

Tropisms (1939) Nathalie Sarraute

 

Imagine watching a scene with people and places and events. Now imagine watching it again but through a veil of meshed curtain, where everything is blurred, vague, and almost ethereal in nature. Well, that's this book and that's Saraute's writing style. There is no story, only the impression of a story, there are no characters, only pronouns such as 'they' and 'he.' There are no actions or events, only a sense of things, a feeling of something taking place. It's all very delicate and fragile.

You will either like that kind of experimental writing or you won't. For me, it was mostly unengaging, and left me with a feeling of frustrated uncertainty. I generally don't like that kind of navel-gazing and, truth be told, tend to find it has a very female energy. The whimsical and dainty, the reflective, the pensive, the woman standing by the pond looking at the lilies and thinking about her lost love, 'the autumn leaves, the lilies, the war, the lilies... oh, the lilies.' It all rather boring if you ask me. I've encountered this kind of writing from a lot of female writers over the years and was immediately reminded of 'Good Morning, Midnight' by Jean Rhys. That too irritated me with all its delicate pondering and wistful banality. The truth is only women who swan about cafes and live in country estates write like this. Get them working down the mines for a decade and they'll soon lose interest in the lilies on the pond.

I'm being a little harsh. But it's not for me. Though it's well written and delightfully short. Definitely worth a read.

 

6/10

Edited November 17, 2022 by Hux

[Hux]

Madonna in a Fur Coat (1943) Sabahattin Ali

 

This is really great. Two novels for the price of one. The book begins with the narrator telling us how he met a man who would forever touch his life -- Raif Efendi. After finding work with help from an old friend, the narrator is put in an office with a quiet, almost invisible man. This man is often berated by his boss but seems willing to accept it, shy and timid, a man who, the narrator believes, has no inner life, no hinterland. As the days, months, and years progress however, the narrator becomes fiends with Raif Efendi, meets his wife and children and in-laws. He recognises that there is a profound soul, sensitive and thoughtful, trapped in this reserved man. Raif is often ill and one day, when the illness seems especially serious, Raif quietly gives his friend permission to read his notebook.

This is where the second book begins, now narrated by Raif himself. He goes back ten years to 1933 when he was a young man in Germany. This is where he meets the artist Maria Pruder and experiences a relationship that changes him forever. I won't go into the details but suffice it to say, things do not have a happy ending.

The book is about love and that specific person who can change your world forever; but more so, it's about memory, the way a person's story can touch us and stay with us for life. Like that saying about how one day someone will think of you for the last time. The only method for defeating that is to ensure that the story is told and retold. Maybe that's the appeal of a being a writer. One day, long after you have been thought of for the last time, someone might discover your work again and think of you once more. But most of all, the book is about opportunities. Sometimes you don't even see them when they're right in front of you.

"The pain of losing something precious -- be it earthly happiness or material wealth -- can be forgotten over time. But our missed opportunities never leave us..."

 

9/10