Hux Book Blog 2024 (Spoilers)

[Madeleine]

No I think Hux has made the point well, the extracts although short don't sound very promising.

[lunababymoonchild]

14 minutes ago, Madeleine said:

No I think Hux has made the point well, the extracts although short don't sound very promising.

Fair enough

[Hux]

4 hours ago, lunababymoonchild said:

I’d just like to point out that just because Hux doesn’t like it doesn’t mean that you won’t. Nor does it mean that it’s a bad book, it simply means that Hux doesn’t like it

 

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That all being said, however, there are some who will probably love this book

 

[Hux]

4 hours ago, lunababymoonchild said:

I’d just like to point out that just because Hux doesn’t like it doesn’t mean that you won’t. Nor does it mean that it’s a bad book, it simply means that Hux doesn’t like it

 

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That all being said, however, there are some who will probably love this book

 

[lunababymoonchild]

4 hours ago, lunababymoonchild said:

Fair enough

 

[Hux]

The Liar (1950) Martin. A Hansen 

 

Well Nathan, we did it. We read this wonderful book about a man living on a small island, trapped by the winter ice, telling his tale to you, Nathan, a fictional creation of his own mind, about the people, the places, the loves, the deaths, and the lost opportunities. Did I enjoy it Nathan? Yes, I thought it was absolutely magnificent. And I really liked the dog Pigro.

Johannes is a school teacher (and deacon) who relates the events of the small community of islanders, specifically Olaf and Annemari who, having recently been his pupils, became an item and had a child. Then there was an accident (a death) that affected Olaf and consequently his relationship with Annemari came to end. Johannes is also in love with Annemari but keep this to himself. It's very subtle but it's there. He can only confess so much to Nathan. And to us. Then there is the young boy Kaj who needs to go to a sanitorium on the mainland for treatment. The family of the deceased young man. Elna, the pregnant barmaid. Olaf's mother who cannot forgive Annemari. Frederick and Rigmor (both unfaithful). Johannes ponders all these people and their stories, the history of the island, the passing of time, the fact that they will all one day be forgotten, that even the words used to describe these things will one day die/change.

Having just read a book that annoyed me, it's always nice to immediately come across one that lifts you back up. So the story is narrated by Johannes Lye (in the original Danish his name is Johannes Vig but since that is similar to svig (meaning 'deceit' or 'guilt') the translator chose to use Lye (lie). And that's important because Johannes is indeed a very unreliable narrator (the title confirms as much). The whole thing is his interpretation of events and it's hard to know just how truthful he is being (personally I got the strong sense that he wasn't being entirely honest about his feelings regarding Annemari and Rigmor) but again, that's the point. We can't really trust Johannes account, we can only listen to it. And he tells it rather beautifully.

The writing is a little different. Short sentences. Often unnecessarily so. Given that they are continuous thoughts. Or pieces of dialogue. And there is a definite stream-of-consciousness element to the prose (a style I have a love hate relationship with). Often it's just a lot of inane gibberish and verbal diarrhoea hiding poor quality writing. But then you get the stuff like this, where it's more like a stream-of-feeling than thought, more fluid and sincere, with a concession for the importance of language and grammar (as opposed to style over substance). Anyway, Hansen is very good at creating an atmosphere of emotion and feeling, his use of Nathan (his fictional sounding board) playing into this. And he knows how to change pace when necessary, slowing down or taking a trip down memory lane. And best of all, he knows when to lie.

It is a wonderful book. Sad, thoughtful, and human.
 

Twenty years of age. That's a magnificent time of life for many. It is our age of deep profundity. For the twenty-year-old demands utter purity. Oh yes of course he tumbles about in this or that and feels himself besmirched. But his life demand is for purity and truth. The mature man is just left bewildered by the twenty-year-old's passionate certainties. The mature man speaks of his life experience, that fool. But this experience simply shows he has forgotten that he is ignorant of life's most important things. The sum of his so-called maturity is a trail of small deceits and minor untruths, in fact a stream of lies, in all opinions and deeds. And yet he is of good conscience because he has become blind to the fact he's a liar.

 

9/10

[Hux]

The Sailor Who Fell From Grace With The Sea (1963) Yukio Mishima

 

Sometimes I wonder if, to be a truly great writer, you have to be slightly dead inside. I wonder this because so many writers avoid giving characters (or first person narrators) any kind of personality or opinions or humour or character. They're always just blanks vessels who remain cold and detached, robotic voices offering only the essentials, the basics, the facts. And yet, despite often finding this annoying, I can't entirely blame them as it often produces some great stuff.

Anyway, Yukio Mishima is as cold as they get. It's all very blunt and matter-of-fact. Here is the setting, here are the characters, here are the consequences. And, for the most part, it's immensely good stuff. Especially when the characters in question possess a coldness that meets with their actions.

The book is about a lonely widow (Fusako) who lives with her with a 13-year-old son (Noboru). She meets a sailor on leave called Ryuji and begins a relationship with him. Noboru has a peephole in his bedroom allowing him to watch them have sex. He has a group of friends who question (as young people always do) the purpose of adult life. They want life to be heroic, have greater meaning beyond the mediocrity of normal life. They want to be above that. As such they kill a cat by bludgeoning it to death and pulling out its innards for examination. This is proof of their higher function, their ability to place themselves outside of the banal morality and expectations of the grown-ups. As the book goes along, Noboru becomes disappointed with Ryuji and no longer sees him as a hero but rather as just another conformist. And I think you can guess where this leads.

I enjoyed it, the writing was very good and Mishima has a beautiful turn of phrase. But it's hard to escape the darkness of the man, that coldness I mentioned earlier. He was clearly not an entirely happy individual and committing seppuka obviously reiterates this but it's more than that. Like I said, there is a coldness to his writing. But that applies to so many. But his particular brand of coldness comes with a thud... a dull, heavy thud.

 

8/10

 

 

Edited May 19 by Hux

[Hux]

Blood Dark (1935) Louis Guilloux

 

The story of an academic philosopher who, ageing and unstimulated by his current status (both in work and life), spends his days in existential crisis contemplating thoughts of purpose and loss, waste and optimism, set against the backdrop of the last year of the First World war. Francoise Merlin (Cripure to everyone else, a nickname based on Kant's CRItique of PURE reason) is a man coming to terms with his end, in more ways than one, and his faltering crusade against his fellow man. He lives with his maid Maia (also his mistress) and his many yapping dogs. He pointlessly endeavours to educate young men about philosophy (in a mildly buffoonish manner) and loathes his academic nemesis Nabucet. He dabbles in nihilistic thought (especially since his wife left him) but clings to the innocent hope that there might be something behind it all.

This is a magnificent book. The writing is wonderful and the characters (Cripure especially) are larger than life and the perfect axis around which to pivot such lofty considerations. It goes without saying that Guilloux has plenty to say about the futile waste of life consumed by the war as well as the cynicism of the time (while Celine comes to the distinct conclusion in Journey to the End of the Night that it's all for nothing, Guilloux has a remnant of hope still left within him). But they both agree that the war was an unnecessary trauma.

The book reminded me a lot of Auto De Fe (printed the same year in 1935) and obviously Celine's Journey (1932) both in terms of subject matter and writing style. The prose here is superb, lyrical and mature, intelligent and rich, and wonderfully crafted. It is obviously a philosophical book but one which is subtle and focuses on the plot (the events of just one day) as well as the characters to explore those philosophical themes. By the final third, however, I did feel that it was dragging a little and could have been much shorter. There are characters, for example, such as Kaminsky and his friends who felt a little redundant, even somewhat out of sync with the overall story. But Guilloux wants to give a complete picture, a fully realised world, and he does this by emphasising the notion of showing, not telling, though I'm not sure it was entirely necessary. A lot of those threads never really go anywhere interesting (beyond fleshing out the small community and demonstrating the general feeling of people regarding the war and its immediate cultural consequences).

The real star is Cripure and I craved returning to the chapters that involved him. At times, he is oafish and exaggerated (almost to Ignatius J Reilly levels of buffoonery) while at other times he is sombre and romantic, disturbed by his deformed feet, his broken heart, his drinking, and his desire for beauty to exist in a world that appears to have none.

A great piece but probably longer than it needed to be. Highly recommended.

 

8/10

Edited yesterday at 03:33 PM by Hux