Hux Book Blog 2023 (Spoilers)

[Hux]

January

Review posted on January 6 - The Wasp Factor (Iain Banks) 6/10

Review posted on January 16 - The Silent Cry (Kenzaburō Ōe) 7/10

Review posted on January 27 - Snow (Orhan Pamuk) 9/10

 

February

Review posted on February 4 - The Slaves of Solitude (Patrick Hamilton) 10/10

Review posted on February 12 - Kokoro (Natsume Sōseki) 8/10

Review posted on February 23 - Lucky Jim (Kingsley Amis) 7/10

Review posted on February 28 - The Sharks (Jens Bjorneboe) 10/10

 

March

Review posted on March 9 - At Swim-Two Birds (Flann O'Brien) 6/10

Review posted on March 16 - Austerlitz (W. G. Sebald) 7/10

Review posted on March 18 - Lady into Fox (David Garnett) 8/10

Review posted on March 25 - An Inventory of Losses (Judith Schalansky) 3/10

 

April

 

May

Review posted on May 18 - Goodbye to Berlin (Christopher Isherwood) 8/10

Review posted on May 27 - I'm Thinking of Ending Things (Iain Reid) 7/10

 

June

Review posted on June 21 - Auto Da Fe (Elias Canetti) 9/10

Review posted on June 30 - House of Leaves (Mark Z. Danielewski) 4/10

 

July

Review posted on July 2 - 69 (Ryu Murakami) 7/10

Review posted on July 6 - The Thief's Journal (Jean Genet) 8/10

Review posted on July 15 - The Secret History (Donna Tartt) 7/10

Review posted on July 19 - Junky (William S. Burroughs) 5/10

Review posted July 24 - Twenty Thousand Streets Under The Sky (Patrick Hamilton) 8/10

Review posted July 26 - Nadja (Andre Breton) 7/10

Review posted July 31 - A Heart So White (Javier Marias) 8/10

 

August 

Review posted on August 12 - The Melancholy of Resistance (Laszlo Krasznahorkai) 7/10

Review posted on August 13 - Bonjour Tristesse (Francoise Sagan) 6/10

Review posted on August 14 - A Certain Smile (Francoise Sagan) 6/10

Review posted on August 16 - Seven Years (Peter Stamm) 7/10

Review posted on August 18 - One Moonlit Night (Caradog Prichard) 8/10

Review posted on August 25 - The Opposing Shore (Julien Gracq) 5/10

Review posted on August 30 - Drive Your Plow Over the Bones of the Dead (Olga Tokarczuk) 8/10

 

September

Review posted on September 2 - Froth on the Daydream - Mood Indigo (Boris Vian) 9/10

Review posted on September 4 - The Setting Sun (Osamu Dazai) 8/10

Review posted on September 9 - The Appointment (Herta Muller) 7/10

Review posted on September 14 - The Eight Mountains (Paolo Cognetti) 6/10

Review posted on September 16 - Mysteries (Knut Hamsun) 8/10

Review posted on September 25 - War and War (Laszlo Krasznahorkai) 5/10

 

October

Review posted on October 7 - Life: A User's Manual (Georges Perec) 4/10

Review posted on October 8 - Memoirs of a Good-For-Nothing (Joseph Von Eichendorff) 6/10

Review posted on October 12 - Omon Ra (Victor Pelevin) 7/10

Review posted on October 14 - Heaven (Mieko Kawakami) 7/10

Review posted on October 17 - The Little Girl Who Was Too Fond of Matches (Gaétan Soucy) 8/10

Review posted on October 20 - Pedro Páramo (Juan Rulfo) 7/10

Review posted on October 26 - Guignol's Band (Louis Ferdinand Celine) 8/10

Review posted on October 28 - The Tenant (Roland Topor) 10/10

 

November 

Review posted on November 2 - Spider (Patrick McGrath) 7/10

Review posted on November 5 - The Virgin Suicides (Jeffrey Eugenides) 7/10

Review posted on November 11 - The Conspiracy Against the Human Race (Thomas Ligotti) 7/10

Review posted on November 18 - Flights (Olga Tokarczuk) 5/10

Review posted on November 19 - The Sandman (E.T.A Hoffman) 8/10

Review posted on November 23 - Elle (Philippe Djian) 7/10

 

December 

Review posted on December 7 - The Discovery of Heaven (Harry Mulisch) 7/10

Review posted on December 7 - The Yellow Wallpaper (Charlotte Perkins Gilman) 6/10

Review posted on December 9 - The Captive Mind (Czeslaw Milosz) 5/10

Review Posted on December 11 - They Shoot Horses, Don't They? (Horace McCoy) 7/10

Review posted on December 16 - Melancholy I - II (Jon Fosse) 7/10

Review posted on December 29 - Of Human Bondage (W. Somerset Maugham) 10/10

Edited December 29, 2023 by Hux

[Hux]

The Wasp Factory (1984) Iain Banks

 

The story revolves around a 17-year-old boy called Frank who lives with his father and has a series of strange interests and personality traits. He captures wasps and kills them in a way which he thinks tells him something of the future, kills mice and rabbits, and spends most of his time alone (his only friend is a kid called Jaimie). When he was a child he had an accident which led to a dog biting off his genitals. This has only further exacerbated his peculiarity and anti-social nature. And he claims to have indirectly murdered three of his younger relatives by various convoluted means. Then there's his older brother Eric, locked away in an asylum for the mentally ill, but who has recently broken out and is regularly phoning Frank as he comes closer and closer to the family home.

The book is very well written and easy to read. For the most part, I enjoyed it. But that's about as far as my praise can go. Beyond that, the book is an endless tease, a 250 page long set-up for a twist that, when it comes, is utterly banal, pointless, and empty. Throughout the entire thing, you get the strong impression that Banks is building to something, a reveal, a twist, a shocking exposure which will suddenly provide answers. Mostly you're encouraged to believe it will have something do with his brother Eric. But when it does finally come, the twist provides nothing more than a cheap thrill to keep you entertained. It has no real bearing on anything, and simply offers the reader what they were told they ought to want all the way through the book -- a sexy conclusion. It feels unearned and utterly vapid. And it solves nothing. For me, it was a tedious and thoroughly worthless damp squib.

That being said, I didn't hate the book. It was easy to read and Frank was an interesting character. It just went nowhere. The twist felt silly. But then all books with a twist feel silly to me.

 

6/10

Edited January 6, 2023 by Hux

[Hux]

The Silent Cry (1967) Kenzaburō Ōe

 

A man named Mitsusaburo is married to Natsumi, they have a newborn son who is mentally disabled. She is coping with alcohol. Then Mitsu's friend commits suicide (it involves a cucumber) which only further sends the two of them spiraling into uncertainty. Mitsusaburo's brother Takashi returns from America and convinces them to go back with him to their childhood home. Here we learn about the brothers' great grandfather and his brother, the latter a major figure in an 1860 peasant uprising. Takashi wants to inspire a similar uprising and, after creating a football team, slowly builds an army which loots the local supermarket owned by a Korean...

I'd go into more detail (and there is a lot more to go into) but I suspect you've already switched off a little. The fact is the book is very good, wonderfully written (and translated), and delves into as many dark and painful recesses of the human mind that you can imagine (fascinatingly so). But it's very convoluted, very dense, and very oppressive at times. After a while, I felt like I had a bag of stones around my neck. Which is a shame because the writing is indeed great. It just feels like he's put far too much into this (did I mention that Takashi seduces Mitsu's wife Natsumi, that there's a murder, an obese gargoyle, an attempted rape, incest, more suicide, a cucumber🥒).

As much as I enjoyed the book, I could have done without being so utterly overwhelmed by so much heavy and stolid language (often when addressing the most mundane aspects of the story). Had the book been half as long (with significantly shorter chapters) I might have embraced it as a masterpiece. But it drags on a little and I never felt any sense of redemption or hope. And when I start to dread reading the next chapter because it just won't let me breathe, I have to take that into account when reviewing the piece (even when, as was the case here, I predominantly enjoyed it and acknowledged the writer's craft).

It was wonderful. But somehow it was also too much. Very Japanese.

 

7/10

[willoyd]

On 1/16/2023 at 11:05 PM, Hux said:

Very Japanese.

 

This struck me, simply because I've found Japanese novels one of the main areas where I struggle - i can't think of one I've read that I've really enjoyed, and plenty where I've got to the end and breathed a sigh of relief.  Felt exactly the same about my first Korean novel (The Vegetarian by Han Kang), so it strikes me it's somethign to do with the writing in that part of the world.  I find much the same even with more Anglicised writers like Ishiguro.

[Hux]

Snow (2002) Orhan Pamuk

 

This was great. I generally avoid plot driven books with 3rd person narrations (preferring 1st person accounts which focus on the writing) but this was a wonderful yarn. The writing is crisp and clear and never becomes dense or flowery. I don't know if that's the writer or the translator's doing but given that Orhan Pamuk is a Nobel Prize winner, probably the former. 

 

The story is told by the protagonist's friend (also called Orhan). He details the events of his friend Ka (a poet) returning to Turkey after 12 years of political exile in Germany to report on the upcoming elections and the spate of suicides among young woman in the city of Kars. While there, he interviews several people including those hoping to take the city into a more religious direction and those (supported by the state) hoping to promote greater secularism. There are a group of girls who refuse to remove their headscarves and this has caused tensions on both sides. Everyday, it snows, each chapter drenched in giant snowflakes and whiteness, until eventually the city is cut off from the rest of the country (this also involving regular blackouts). It creates a nice (almost cosy) claustrophobia. This allows for a military coup to take place, the leader being a famous actor who uses his position of power to stage performances which condemn the backwardness of Islam. Meanwhile, there is a handsome terrorist called Blue and a woman named Ipek who Ka quickly falls in love with. 

 

The story takes place over only three days and the narrative is mostly chronological but for one chapter which jumps ahead in time. It flows very nicely and I found it very easy to read. The themes regarding secularism, religion, art, beauty, and love are nothing new but the story does a good job of sucking you in. I found some of it hard to grasp from a western point of view but really enjoyed reading the book and will hope to read more of Pamuk's work in future.

 

9/10

[Hux]

The Slaves of Solitude (1947) Patrick Hamilton

 

The story of a 39-year-old woman name Enid Roach who, during the blitz, moves away from London to the safety of a tea room boarding house on the outskirts of the city. Here she deals with several spinsters and an elderly gentleman named Mr Thwaites who endlessly nitpicks at her during their shared mealtimes. An American G.I (lieutenant Pike) enters her life and a mild romance of sorts begins with regular trips to the local pub for drinks. But then Miss Roach's half-German friend Vicki Kugelmann moves into the boarding house and becomes a rival for the affections of lieutenant Pike.

This was one of the best things I have ever read. There is so much art to Hamilton's simplicity. And he is so good at dealing with the psychological (especially the British method of churning one's resentments over and over in our minds). He taps into the slights and off-hand comments which bug us for the rest of the day, which burrow into our thoughts until we ruminate upon them relentlessly. He reveals the petty resentments we have and the uncertainties of what others might be thinking or feeling about us (what did they mean by that? Am I overreacting? Was that a subtle dig?). None of this should be surprising when you remind yourself that Hamilton is the man who wrote 'Gaslight' a term which now pervades modern culture. But he's just so good at taking the smallest thing and making you squirm and fixate and worry.

Miss Roach appears both overly sensitive yet utterly correct in her assessments of what others might be thinking of her. Never has a female character (especially written by a man) felt so real to me. And as I've already mentioned, I love the Britishness of it all. How apt that it should take place (like a lot of his work) during the 2nd World War. He understands the psychological nature of this island and its people, especially the English.

Often, when I read a novel, my interest wanes towards the last third but here the total opposite occurred. Everything builds and builds despite, in reality, nothing very significant ever really happening. Even the chapters seemed to be getting shorter as the book went along. He takes the most mundane subject matter and turns it into a psychological nightmare. It is an exquisite gift to take the banal and mediocre lives of tea room boarders and make me grip tightly to the pages. Glorious!

 

10/10

[Hux]

Kokoro (1914) Natsume Sōseki

 

The story of a young man (the narrator) who details meeting and befriending an older man whom he only refers to as sensei. He admires this man's wisdom and education and they begin to spend time together. The sensei has a secret, something which transformed his early life and caused him to become cynical and misanthropic, something which even his own wife doesn't fully understand. The narrator asks question but gets few answers. The narrator returns to his family due to his father's illness and possible death yet craves returning to Tokyo and his friend. He writes to sensei but receives no reply. Then, finally, he receives an extremely long letter (the final third part of the book) where sensei tells his story.

This book was great. It builds with a very slow pace and allows the narrator to become the central character before switching over to sensei's letter and focusing on him. The chapters are all roughly two pages each, allowing the reader an opportunity to freely go as fast or as slow as they like (I find that I tend to read more when this is the case). The prose is clean and tidy, never dwelling on unnecessary points, and the story is earnest and heartfelt (typically Japanese). The ending packs a punch and while it isn't entirely unexpected, it is still profoundly moving and sad.

There are themes surrounding one era replacing another, the changing of the generational guard, and there are references to Emperor Meiji and General Nogi, old Japan becoming new Japan. But for me, the book is about the sins we carry with us, the heartbreak and sorrow which youth inflicts upon its future self.

 

8/10

[lunababymoonchild]

An excellent review, if I may say so, Hux. Bought the (e-)book

[Hux]

Lucky Jim (1954) Kingsley Amis

 

The story of a university lecturer (Jim Dixon) at a red brick university who is unsure of his employment status and is entangled in a relationship with a neurotic (seemingly suicidal) woman name Margaret. Then, one day, the head of the department (Welch) invites him to a small get-together where he meets Welch's son (Bertrand), a painter, and his new girlfriend, Christine, a young woman from London. As the novel progresses Jim and Christine appear to have a bond.

Took a while to get into this and I found the dialogue more engaging that the narration. But eventually, it pulled me in. It's essentially a rom-com in book form and has a lot of wit and charm to it. I occasionally laughed but mostly it was a series of -'I can relate to that' - smirks. When Dixon takes a dislike to Bertrand, for example, and he imagines himself spending years becoming a noted art critic simply so that he can dismiss Bertrand's work as a load of crap. There are lots of little moments like that throughout the book, charming, and amusing, clever and arch. And there's a good portion of British cynicism and irony too. Dixon is indeed very lucky but we like the man and want him to succeed so it's okay.

I can't say the prose entirely bowled me over, and I'm generally not a fan of books that are described as comedic, but I've wanted to read this one for a while. I'm amazed Richard Curtis hasn't turned it into a movie yet. It has all the hallmarks of that kind of middle-class gentle humour set in an almost pastoral version of England. Enjoyed it.

 

7/10

[Hux]

The Sharks (1974) Jens Bjorneboe

 

In 1899 a ship named the Neptune sets sail from Manila in the Philippines across the Pacific towards its destination of Marseilles. But it will never get there. Peder Jensen (third mate) narrates the journey and tells us of the many interesting characters aboard the ship and the terrible weather and circumstances they must endure. The endless expanse of the living ocean, the fighting, the hatred, the deep-rooted resentments. And, of course, the sharks.

Bjorneboe is so good at looking at the very worst aspects of human nature. The ship is crewed by Europeans, Americans, Africans, Arabs, Chinese, you name it. So the ship is the whole world and the people traveling within it are, almost ceaselessly, at each other's throats. The books opens almost immediately with brawling violence. Yet Peder, the ship's make-shift medical officer, also provides a constant sense of compassion. Humanity has an innate capacity for helping each other yet 'there is a murderer inside each of us too.' Peder (or is it Bjorneboe) delves beyond the mere facts of the narrative and goes into his personal thoughts regarding slavery, war, class oppression and history. He is the ship's philosopher and can see the terrible sights which await humanity in the 20th century as it hovers on the horizon, as its many technologies and values will bring about further war and hatred. Yet he is always hopeful, this especially seen in the terrified boy, Pat, a 14-year-old cockney street urchin who, after a traumatising start to the journey, clings to Peder and demands that he become the boy's father. Then we have the enormous captain, Anderson, a mountain of muscle and indifference. A man built by the grime and bleakness of the heartless 19th century. And, of course, the sharks.

The book is utterly magnificent. Both glorious to read (gripping despite Bjorneboe's tendency to meander and dawdle and go on flights of philosophical fancy) and wonderfully creative. It is atmospheric to the end, always fascinating, always making you think. It was both a wonderful yarn and a thought-provoking polemic. There is something beautiful within it.

When, for example, the crew put their fighting on hold momentarily because there are two bodies floating in the gigantic blue swirling ocean; a man and a woman, drifting, tethered together by a flimsy rope so that even in death, they might stay close to each other. They wrap them up, silently bury these two strangers at sea, and lower their heads. Then go back to fighting and hatred.

 

10/10

 

Edited February 28, 2023 by Hux

[Hayley]

23 hours ago, Hux said:

The Sharks (1974) Jens Bjorneboe

I'm adding this to my wish list! 

[Hux]

At Swim-Two Birds (1939) Flann O'Brien

 

Where to begin with this one? It's an experimental novel about a young Irish man who lives with his uncle and has aspirations of being a writer. He references several stories within his own story which feature characters who gradually begin to interact with one other. It's not so much a story within a story, so much as a story about a story where the characters become the authors of other stories within that story whilst another story unfolds as a consequence of that story. So yeah, interesting. There are supposedly three stories happening but they overlap and mingle to the extent that you entirely lose track.

There's one that involves a Pooka and an invisible fairy who lives in his pocket. They meet some ne'er-do-wells in the woods and travel to the house of a character from a different story and play poker. It was strangely compelling and yet I didn't fully grasp what was going on. This was true for huge portions of the book and characters were seemingly coming and going while the narration left me unsure of what was actually happening beyond the immediate. Yet some of the writing was utterly beautiful indeed. But it became increasingly difficult to put it into any kind of context. For example:

"The character of your colloquy is not harmonious, rejoined the Pooka, and makes for barriers between the classes. Honey-words in torment, a growing urbanity against the sad extremities of human woe, that is the further injunction in place upon your head; and for the avoidance of opprobrious oddity as to numerals, I add this, a sickly suppuration at the base of the left breast."

Lovely stuff. But what on earth doesn't mean? Even in context, I had no real clue. So while the prose is often wonderful, it comes at the cost of not being fully able to engage due to a lack of connection with the material. As such, there were times when it was hard-going and, towards the end, I was positively desperate for the book to finish. At one point a cow was given the ability to speak in order to give testimony in court regarding the cruelty of one of the fictional authors. Nice.

If you like experimental writing and exquisite prose, you should read it. If you don't, maybe skip it.

 

6/10

[Hux]

Austerlitz (2001) W.G. Sebald

 

An unnamed narrator tells us of a man named Austerlitz who he met in the 60s and who, having not seen each other for twenty years, comes back into his life in the 90s. Eventually the story becomes one told by Austerlitz to the narrator about his life growing up in Wales and his uncertain origins. He discovers, and relays to the narrator, that he was born in Czechoslovakia and was, on the arrival of the Nazis, sent away to Britain as a child. After this his memories of that early life become faded and he has no further recollection of his birth parents until he is informed of his real name -- Austerlitz. Gradually, with the help of the narrator, he details his search for his lost past and his lost identity.

The first half of this book, where the narrator meets Austerlitz and details their friendship was wonderful and I was fully engaged. It was reminiscent of the superb 'Rings of Saturn' which also made use of history and location, drenching the reader in well-crafted and fascinating insights (often accompanied by photographs) which took the narrative in various disparate and curious directions. The second half of the book, however, started to feel dense and repetitive, and I found the influence of Thomas Bernhard to be irksome. It is initially mild and only really noticeable in the lack of chapters throughout the book but there is a section towards the end which almost amplifies the Bernhard style with several pages of breathless stream-of-consciousness which go on and on with a singular determination but which, in my opinion, only serve to lessen the impact of what is actually being discussed. The more the book went on, and certainly into the final third, the more I found my interest waning quite significantly. Sebald's writing is always sublime, I just don't think he entirely mastered what is an obviously borrowed technique.

There was far too much Austerlitz said, Austerlitz continued, Austerlitz went on. And I could have done without the introduction from James Wood which only coloured the content in a manner which took my own ability to interpret the text away from me. I usually skip introductions but this one was not explicitly obvious as an introduction until halfway through it.

It's a well-written book but one which ultimately left me slightly underwhelmed. It never grabbed me quite the way Rings of Saturn did. Once the initial sections between the narrator and Austerlitz were discarded in favour of Austerlitz telling his story, I gradually checked out. But I would still recommend it.

 

7/10

Edited March 16, 2023 by Hux

[Hux]

Lady into Fox (1922) David Garnett

 

A very short novella about a woman who, without warning, transforms into a fox before her husband's very eyes. He asks his servants to leave their home and chooses to look after his vixen alone. She cannot speak, but, to begin with, she maintains various human-like qualities such as eating at the table, playing cards, and dressing in clothes. But as time goes on, she increasingly loses interest in these things and begins to exhibit a more animal-like behaviour. Eventually, she digs a hole to escape the garden and her husband, initially angry, agrees to let her leave. Months later she returns with a series of cubs and appears to have settled into her life as a fox.

Where to begin with this? It's very easy to read and agreeably short. The writing is very good and it goes along at a fine pace. There is a slow build which provides all the information you need including a somewhat vague moment of drunkeness where the husband admits he behaved inappropriately with the fox (but let's say no more about that). The only issue here is how to interpret the text overall. I'm sure there are many theories and ideas regarding the underlying themes, all of which probably work and make sense. For me, there are two possibilities.

One, it is an allegory for change within relationships, the way human beings (especially in long-tern relationships) will become different people as the years go by and how this will impact upon the other participant. In this case, her husband must come to terms with the fact he cannot continue forcing her to live with him. They may still care for each other but they have entirely different goals, dreams, desires, etc. The second is more complex. Throughout the text, he is understandably referred to as a madman; neighbours speak of his malaise and the fact that his wife has gone away. Is it possible that she literally left him for another man and, in his despair and anguish, he conjured up a delusional narrative which reduced her (the 'lady of the night' vixen) to that of a base animal? Who knows, but like I said, you can play with the hidden meanings of this book until the sun goes down.

And that's what makes it so great.

 

8/10

[Hux]

An Inventory of Losses (2018) Judith Schalansky

 

There's a joke about writers finding a way to make their short stories connect so that they can pass them off as a novel. Well, that joke became a reality here. A series of chapters that are either short stories or short polemics which revolve around the wafer thin theme of loss and time and history and blah blah yawn.

I honestly haven't been bored by a book quite as badly as I was by this one. At first glance, the writing is very good (neat and tidy) and you feel as though there is meaningful content but as the novelty value of the book continues (sporadic looks at the past that have no real connection to one another) you begin to feel drained, as though the writer is somehow stealing all the love, energy, and optimism from your very soul. Even when the book has mildly interesting chapters (actual narratives as opposed to polemics and half-formed thoughts about the human condition), it still somehow manages to fail because as soon as that chapter is over, you are instantly asked to abandon it and embrace the next thoroughly tedious chapter which is bone dry and banal. At no point can you invest in anything, not even a character who runs, like a thread, through the book. It's all just idiotic nonsense that goes nowhere masquerading as something profound and beautiful. One chapter was essentially just the narrator describing foliage and trees and animals -- like I've never encountered any of that before.

I liked the idea of the book: an inventory of things that we have lost or forgotten over the centuries, but I just don't think Schalansky had the talent to turn that into something significant or worthwhile. I was genuinely bored. It honestly did feel like nothing more than a series of jumbled thoughts thrown together without any creativity or vision into a half-baked novel.

The only praise I can give the book is the physical book itself. A beautiful thing with a font of gold and chapters that are separated by a black page with a faded image within it. But that's it, though. That's all I can say as a positive.

 

3/10

[Hux]

Goodbye to Berlin (1939) Christopher Isherwood

 

Having been interrupted halfway through by a scratched cornea, it took a while to get through this. I managed to finish with my one good eye and thus, have had plenty of time to digest it. Overall, I enjoyed Isherwood's writing, the stark, brisk quality of it which remains detached and objective. He simply tells us what he sees and documents 1930s Berlin with a series of vignettes and diaries as the Nazis begin to loom in the background. The book is presented as life-writing but clearly has flourishes of creative and narrative fiction.

The best part of the book without question is the chapter that focuses on Sally Bowles. Firstly, I have never seen the film 'Cabaret' so I can't comment on how similar the characters are or how much of the book was translated into the film, but I suspect very little given how horrendously unlikeable the woman is. If ever a woman embodied the decadence and decay of Weimer Germany, Sally Bowles is it. She is presented as a spoiled child, privileged and and ignorant, permissive and promiscuous, endlessly using the word 'darling' like some kind of caricature. She sleeps with everyone and inevitably gets pregnant then pops to the hospital for an abortion. She agrees to marry a 16-year-old boy purely because she thinks he has money. Suffice it to say, she is a rancid creature and profoundly awful. Which is presumably why she's so wonderfully entertaining to read about. I am genuinely amazed Jean Ross (who Sally Bowles is based on) agreed to let Isherwood portray her as such a mercurial, self-indulgent buffoon.

I liked Isherwood's writing a lot but felt the book was a little haphazard and thrown together, each section introducing new characters and moments that reminded me it was a true account of his time in Germany. I would be keen to read more of his work, however, preferably something which has more of a fictional narrative.

 

8/10

[Hux]

I'm Thinking of Ending Things (2016) Iain Reid

 

I have to confess I read this AFTER watching the film. Almost certainly a mistake, but I enjoyed the film so much (the theme of an isolated man maintaining himself through the private narratives he creates) that I was curious to see how the book conveyed those same ideas. Sadly, it didn't. The majority of the book is a basic narrative of a couple in a car travelling to see his parents. She narrates and while there's some hint at oddness (more in an attempt to create suspense), it never really matched the surreal and curious atmosphere of the film. Hence seeing the film first spoiled the experience.

The book is very easy to read though. I zipped through it. Short chapters with very pithy and simple language. There is nothing of literary significance here but the the themes explored (at least in the twist ending) are very interesting, certainly to me. But again, where the film explored them in a more overt and fascinating way, the book simply uses them as a plot device twist ending. The question is: just how much of life do we live in our heads? Are lonely people living a dual existence of real life and internal life? Is everyone? The film really impressed me on these questions, especially as someone who has indeed spent a lot of his life living in his head (to the detriment of real life). But the book merely throws this at you at the end; another modern banal twist which I really didn't need. It's only saving grace is how easy it is to read, and the claustrophobic sense of isolation it generates (more books with couples driving for long periods in cars please).

I would definitely recommend the book; it breezes by. But it was a damp squib as far as the ideas he was endeavouring to play with were concerned. For that, I would recommend the film which goes a little deeper with them (and doesn't use them cheaply as a twist).

 

7/10

[Hux]

Auto Da Fe (1935) Elias Canetti

 

One of the most peculiar books I have ever read. And one which, despite its length, I couldn't put down. Each chapter pulled me further and further into this bizarre world and its abnormal characters.

There is a man named Peter Kien, a great academic, a sinologist, a man utterly obsessed with books. Never have you encountered a man more devoted to his books, never in literature have you met someone more fixated, to the point of lunacy, on his private library. They are more important than people, more important than life.

Peter is anti-social, perhaps autistic, to the extent that he isn't always fully present or cognizant of his surroundings; he is eternally living in his mind and cannot always grasp the nuance of life or those around him -- the real world is beyond him. He has a housemaid who has, unnoticed, served him for eight years but who, one day, ushers away a child that Peter had promised could see the library; this leads him to view her somewhat differently, perhaps as a kindred spirit. She is someone serious, someone who will look after his books and protect them as much as he does. What follows is a rash marriage and a spiral of events which lead to mental decline and uncertainty. She is a witch! She takes over his house, his books, she kicks him out! He is left to roam the streets, living in a hotel, manipulated and taken advantage of by almost everyone he meets. None more so than a dwarf named Fischerle who has ambitions of being a chess champion. Deeper and deeper goes Peter Kien, his mind collapsing about him, his capacity for control and sanity out of reach. His precious books escaping him. The world is a cold, nasty place occupied by vile, greedy insects!

I honestly can't remember reading anything quit like this; on the one hand, dark and depraved, a world of deformed characters and ignoble motivations, but on the other, comical and ludicrous, almost perverse in its unnatural behaviours and cynicism. The book was like a combination of 'The Man Without Qualities,' 'A Confederacy of Dunces,' and 'Don Quixote' all at once. Maybe even an element of the ghoulish yet heartwarming 'Geek Love' can be thrown in too. How a man under 30 could write this in 1935 is beyond me. It is a masterpiece of the human condition, and yet it is also a small story concerning trivial human frailties. I will lovingly place the book on my shelf and occasionally contemplate the life of Peter Kien; as well as the cost of loving books a little too much.

Give the man a Nobel prize. Oh wait, he already has one.

 

9/10

[lunababymoonchild]

That sounds like it could be very upsetting.

[Hux]

4 minutes ago, lunababymoonchild said:

That sounds like it could be very upsetting.

 

Well, it certainly doesn't end well. 

[Leganto]

Auto Da Fé sounds like just my kind of thing, have reserved at the library, thanks for selling it so well!

[Hux]

House of Leaves (2000) Mark Z. Danielewski

 

This is a book I'd heard a lot of very positive things about. So it was a disappointment to discover how utterly banal and tedious it actually was. That's a bit harsh as the two stories in the book (for the most part) kept my attention. But taken as a whole, it was just so thoroughly underwhelming. To be fair, this kind of L.A garbage isn't what I usually read as it's always so painfully predictable and obviously designed for a specific audience. In summary, if you like American Psycho and Fight Club (plus Stephen King and all his contemporary juvenile mimics), you'll probably like this.

The (first) book is by a man named Zampanò who writes about The Navidson record which is a documentary film about a family who move into a weird house in Virginia where there are endless corridors and a spiral staircase that goes on forever but also doesn't (ooh spooky, right?). Meanwhile, the book Zampanò has written has been found by a man named Johnny Truant who writes footnotes at the bottom of the page (this is the second narrative). The story about the Navidson family moving into a creepy house is mildly diverting and fun. They hire expert explorers to investigate who end up being lost in the changing corridors for days while the leader loses his mind. Meanwhile, the footnotes provided by Truant (where he details his own life and mental health difficulties) is a kind of poundshop Bukowski narrative where he takes drugs, gets laid, and lives his atomised L.A life. To begin with, this grabbed my attention more than the main story but gradually, he becomes a somewhat peripheral character with his own equally banal offerings (mummy issues).

Then we have all the other footnotes and endless slew of fictional academic citations and annotations at the bottom of the page which (I assure you), you can entirely ignore. They are utterly worthless. Then we have the chapters with pointless notes written backwards or upside down (ooh spooky) and then page after page where it's just one word or one sentence (ooh, it represents the disjointed nature of the story, you see). No, it doesn't - it represents your stupidity. Meanwhile, we're supposed to accept Johnny as some kind of basic L.A drifter type who's a normal person and not very literate (hence he repeatedly writes 'could of' instead of 'could have' and thinks 'alot' is one word.' Five minutes later, however, he's writing sentences like... "The immolating splash of brightness abruptly receding into a long gray thread climbing up to the ceiling before finally collapsing into invisible and untraceable corridors of chaos."

This book was such a staggering amount of nothing. It will appeal to people who don't read much beyond the standard horror/transgressive pulp. They'll think it's mind-blowing when in reality it's barely a leaf blower.

 

4/10

[Hux]

69 (1987) Ryu Murakami

 

This was a very enjoyable read about a young man's coming-of-age in 1969. He organises a protest with his friends which includes barricading the school, graffiti-ing slogans on the walls, and leaving a turd on a desk. In the right company, he talks about the crimes happening in Vietnam, Marxist ideology, and liberation from the conservative norms. But in reality, he simply wants to look cool so he can impress a girl. In many ways, the book is a metaphor for all the performative left-wingism of early youth. And it's funny with it.

I wouldn't describe the book as anything heavyweight, in fact, you'll read through it very quickly, but it still contains some fun ideas and language. There are, understandably, a lot of pop culture references regarding the era, everything from the Beatles to Zeppelin, and Camus to Alain Delon etc. Plus, the ongoing Americanisation of Japanese culture. Ultimately however, the book is about youth, friendships, first loves, and so on. And the writing is very fluid and easy to digest with short chapters and humorous dialogue.

I enjoyed it a lot but would ultimately class it as a very light read.

 

7/10

 

 

Edited July 2, 2023 by Hux

[Hux]

The Thief's Journal (1948) Jean Genet

 

A book which is dense with inventive prose and creative language. Given the subject matter, it's quite the incongruent accomplishment, to describe a world of such petty theft, prostitution, and underground homosexual activity with so deft a touch. At times the writing can be a little stuttered, often when Genet is going on flights of philosophical fancy, but when he commits to the broader strokes of his European narrative (his youthful life of sexual escapes and adventures), it takes on a genuine note of the lyrically sublime.

The book is a combination of fiction and life writing; a kind of Celine meets Laurie Lee. And like Lee, it begins in Spain before moving briskly around Europe before settling (for the most part) in Belgium. Genet uses his own name and regularly addresses the reader, but admits that his recollections are more interpretation than memory. The vast bulk of the book is confined to Genet's endless ability to fall in love with men at the drop of a hat. He becomes the lover of criminals, policemen, thugs, you name it. And speaks of each encounter as though it's a genuine (and profound) experience of love. I must say... I didn't believe him. In fact, my only criticism of the book would be Genet's constant need to conflate sexual urge with love. And then to wallow in the bizarre narrative that betrayal, promiscuity, and gradual indifference are the truest forms of expressing that love. Yeah, like I said... I didn't believe him. But anyway...

The writing is (mostly) magnificent and Genet's use of language is quite amazing. His life is more interesting than most and he does a good job of capturing a small portion of it here. At times, it was like reading poetry. To quote the man himself: 'I have made it sound heroic because I have within me what is needed to do so, lyricism.

 

8/10

[Hux]

The Secret History (1992) Donna Tartt

 

This was a gripping page turner, highly entertaining, and immensely fun to read. But ultimately of little literary significance.

The story revolves around some posh university lads killing their friend Bunny (this is revealed in the prologue). Richard, the narrator, is not from a moneyed background like them but through a shared love of Greek language and history, he manages to convince the mercurial tutor, Julian, to allow him to be the sixth member of their exclusive class. There are university shenanigans, visits to stately homes owned by their families, and endless drinking binges. Richard becomes a member of their group... but not entirely. Then comes a revelation which results in the death of a man during a fit of religious (or drug induced) intoxication. Bunny finds out about it and begins to threaten exposure. So they kill him.

Like I said, it's very entertaining stuff. At least up until the funeral when I started to gradually lose interest. But by the end of the book, I was slightly underwhelmed. I mean, a guy meets some random posh kids and, having known them five minutes, agrees to be complicit in the murder of their friend? Really? He knows nothing about these people and yet goes along with it. This is only further highlighted by the fact that more secrets are revealed about each of the characters only after the murder. Yet Richard (a rather blank and empty vessel) is happy to go along with it for reasons which are never really explained. Is he a sociopath? Does he hate Bunny? Not as far as I could see. And then, as if to make up for the fact that the murder (and therefore the most interesting part of the book) is over, Tartt throws in some incest and romantic melodrama to keep you invested. But I was ready for it to end by that point.

The prose is very basic, stark, even, with only a few occasional flourishes. It's essentially what you'd expect from a piece of contemporary fiction. The plot is doing all the heavy lifting here. If plot driven page turners are your thing, you'll love this book. I certainly enjoyed it, but I rarely care about plots in literature so it probably won't live long in the memory.

Overall, I'd recommend it as a fun beach read. But little more.

 

7/10