Hux Book Blog 2024 (Spoilers)

[Hux]

Paris Trout (1988) Pete Dexter

 

I generally avoid plot driven novels because they often have little to say about the human condition but are -- as they are designed to be -- immensely fun to read. This one was very good and swept me along quite nicely until I was fully satisfied and entertained. But the downside to plot driven books is that they don't live long in the memory and rarely posses any language or writing that is especially significant. But every now and then an entertaining yarn is all you really want or need. And on that score, this is great.

It's the 1950s and we're somewhere in the deep south of shucks y'all, yee-haw America. Paris Trout is a racist who, after loaning a car to a young black man and not getting paid, turns up at his house with his henchman Buster Devonne, and shoots the mother and a 14-year-old girl called Rosie Sayers. What follows is a community in denial, a complicity, and a trial that leads nowhere. Trout is never really punished because of his power and influence and because the society he lives in doesn't really put any value in a black person's life. It's a story you've read/seen a million times before (from America especially) and it's quite purposely designed to get your back up. Paris Trout, for example, is cartoonishly evil. Not only is he a racist and murderer but also a misogynist and abuser of his own wife. Dexter really lays it on thick and lets you hate Trout from the word go until you start to enjoy it. There are no redeeming features, just relentless villainy to get your teeth into. As such, it's somewhat manipulative and predictable as a story but -- as already stared -- enormously enjoyable to read.

There is only one part of Trout's life that indicates he is more than just an unthinking monster and that's his ailing elderly mother who lives in a nursing home. He often visits her and, at the climax of the book, uses her in his last line of defence. But even this throws no real light on Trout as a person or his motivations. I suspect the book is more about the community ignoring his actions (and therefore being complicit in them) than an exploration of why those actions occurred in the first place.

So yeah, of no real literary significance but a good old-fashioned and entertaining romp.

 

7/10

[lunababymoonchild]

Just bought this. Not available on Kindle but it is available second-hand. 

[Hux]

Zorba The Greek (1946) Nikos Kazantzakis

 

The story of two men who go to Crete and mine Lignite and spend their days on the beach. The narrator (the boss) is a bookworm and thinker but his new friend, Zorba, is inclined to be more passionate and wild. They spend their evenings drinking, singing, talking of life. And that's essentially the plot (save for some rather bizarre events towards the end of the book that slightly lost me). Kazantzakis does a great job of creating the scene, you can hear the waves, feel the sun, smell the wine, and hear the laughter. Zorba is a man who believes very much in living now. And he encourages the boss to embrace this worldview before it's too late.

Overall, I enjoyed the book but was never blown away by it. Kazantzakis is a wonderful writer and has moments of exceptional prose but the book is very dialogue driven so the language is predominantly straight-forward discussions between the men. But when Kazantzakis allows the boss to think about things alone, to articulate his thoughts, the writing becomes sublime:
 

To my mind, the Cretan countryside resembled good prose, carefully ordered, sober, free from superfluous ornament, powerful and restrained. It expressed all that was necessary with the greatest economy. It had no flippancy, nor artifice about it. It said what it had to say with a manly austerity. But between the severe lines one could discern an unexpected sensitiveness and tenderness; in the sheltered hollows the lemon and orange trees perfumed the air, and from the vastness of the sea emanated an inexhaustible poetry.

After a while, you become lost in the Mediterranean shimmer of light and the drinking of wine. You settle in and enjoy their company, listen to these two men discuss philosophy and existence while Zorba endeavours to teach the boss that life has no meaning and can only be experienced in the here and now. As such, I kept hearing that song: 'The Whole of the Moon' by the Waterboys in my head. It seemed to sum up their relationship: The boss wants to learn. Zorba wants to live.

'I spoke about wings, you just flew.'

 

7/10

[Hux]

The Snow Was Dirty (1948) Georges Simenon

 

There was a beach for Mersault (The Stranger) and Ozo (No longer Human). But for Frank Friedmaier it is snow, old, dirty and hardened snow. In many ways, I think Frank made more impact on me because while he is detached, lost, and unable to access human emotions, there is a strange glimmer of hope, of light, of a possibility that he might be in there... somewhere. Additionally, he doesn't feel sorry for himself and always maintains a stoicism yet has a vulnerability which is tangible. I found it hard to truly care for the soulless Mersault or the cowardly Ozo but Frank made me want to cry. He knows his fate better than anyone. He reached me. Which is all the more perplexing (and impressive) because Simenon uses third person narration (albeit a very close third person narration) as opposed to the more obvious choice of first person. But you hardly even notice this.

Anyway, the story opens with a young nineteen year old boy called Frank who, as a petty criminal, has decided that he must commit a murder. For no particular reason, simply because it is a necessity of the world he inhabits. Later, there is a robbery and another murder, this one possessing a past connection to Frank. Meanwhile his mother, Lotte, runs a brothel and Frank has sex with the girls as and when he chooses. He never refers to his mother as mum but always as Lotte. Then there is the sixteen-year-old girl, Sissy, his neighbour, who becomes infatuated with Frank, loving him almost from the first instance. But again, he feels nothing for her. In fact, he organises for one of his criminal pals (Kromer) to have sex with her in his dark bedroom whilst letting her think it's actually Frank. This is just how cold and unfeeling Frank is. How broken. How remote.

Or is he? Because this appears to be the event that breaks something in Frank. He begins to obsess over Sissy's father, turning him into a strange symbol of redemption, craving him as his own father. He maintains his aloof coldness but as I said, there is a glimmer of light, a possibility of his soul and humanity finally emerging. But it all comes too late as Frank is arrested (for which specific crimes we don't know). But his time is up. And he knows it. Throughout the book there are vague references to war and an occupying force in the (equally vague) country but Simenon is (I believe) deliberately turning the environment into something obscure and nightmarish. It could be any country, any occupier, any war. It could be any nineteen year old boy. And it could be any bleak dirty snow that covers the landscape of his wasted life.

Yes, the book slams on the breaks at the end with the interrogation chapters (far too many of them) but by that point, I was already in love. I now place Frank with Mersault and Ozo and continue my search for more of our lost brothers.

Magnificent.

 

10/10

[lunababymoonchild]

I bought this one too. Simenon is one of my favourite authors.

[Hux]

Journey by Moonlight (1937) Antal Szerb

 

Mihály and Erzsi are on honeymoon in Italy. While in Venice, they bump into his old friend Szepetneki (conveniently bumping into people who can push the narrative along is a recurring theme here) and this leads to Mihaly telling Erzsi a long story about his younger days with Tamás, his sister, Eva, Ervin and Szepetneki. Predominantly it is the suicide of Tamás and the disappearance of Ervin and Eva that are of note

Mihaly gets off the train at a station and they are separated. At this point Mihaly decides to have a breakdown and shack up with am American girl called Millicent and travel around Italy alone. Erzsi goes to Paris and things happen there but whatever. Then Mihaly bumps into Ervin and then later bumps into Eva and so and so forth (thank goodness he keeps bumping into integral characters). It was all rather forgettable. I'm not sure what the book was exploring, maybe grief, nostalgia, loss of youth, or just the inability of men to grow up. Who knows. It was very easy to read and I enjoyed the first two thirds but was losing interest towards the end. The book has a kind of magical realism (no thanks) which goes hand-in-hand with another literary trope I loath... the mystery. The book has Mihaly searching for Eva (what happened to her) and she seems to flitter in and out like a ghost and it's mostly annoying because books with a mystery element ALWAYS disappoint. The resolution is always dull. So, you know... get on with it!

Anyway, I really enjoyed the first half (very easy to read and fun) but became increasingly bored as it went along. I suspect Szerb was playing with ideas of capitalist ennui (he uses the word 'bourgeoisie' several times so you really get the point) and the rise of fascism and youthful exuberance and blah blah but the fact remains, Mihaly comes across as a spoiled middle class tool. 'Please send money so I can continue swanning about Italy and being weirdly nostalgic for a period of life that was less than a decade ago.'

The ultimate content of the book irritated me (banal middle-class navel gazing). But it was an easy read and had some nice moments and went along at a pace so I would still recommend it. In fact, I suspect most people will like this book quite a lot (certainly more than I did).

 

7/10

 

Edited April 5 by Hux

[Hux]

The Magic Mountain (1924) Thomas Mann

 

Hans Castorp goes to visit his cousin Joachim at a sanatorium in Davos, Switzerland. His intention is to stay for three weeks but his own health has its issues and he ends up staying longer. Much longer. At the sanatorium he encounters several characters who (wouldn't you know it) all seem to represent a certain worldview (including Joachim) and like to speak (at length) about these ideas and opinions. The most prominent among them is Settembrini (humanism, liberal democracy, etc) and then later his counterpart Naphta (Commie garbage) and much later (towards the end in fact) Peeperkorn (aristocracy, Dionysian). Then we have the Russian lady Clavdia Chauchat (hot cat!) who, obviously, is a hot throbbing sexpot representation of temptations and lust and so on.

These characters all live in the sanatorium and engage in verbose dialogues that explore the slow destruction of Western civilisation as it succumbs to an era of extremists (which tends to happen when things get boring (see modern day for example)). Castorp (and Mann) can see what's on the horizon and though the book takes place before the first world war, it was obviously written after and yet (despite that war being behind us) Mann can see further problems ahead. He is concerned for the soul of Europe and sees that we are doomed.

My own interpretation of the book is that life at the sanatorium represents the human condition. We take a rest at this place (life) and delude ourselves into thinking that once we are well, healthy and strong, we can go out into the world when, in reality, we are never well, never healthy, and we are simply waiting for death to come. Why get better simply to go and die? There is no getting better. There's just being unwell then death. You're welcome. And Castorp (we assume) does indeed end the book by going off to the war.

So if you like weighty books that explore big themes, you should read this. That being said... I found it rather oppressive and dull. I've read whoppers before and found them engaging. My best comparison being Musil's 'The Man Without Qualities' which I enjoyed a lot. It explored the same big questions but did so by giving us a myriad of characters who push the narrative in different directions with new scenarios. It allows you (the reader) to take a breath as you dig into the next mammoth philosophical debate and adds colour to the proceedings. The Magic Mountain doesn't. It's just the same people at the sanatorium talking endlessly. There are no new environments or developments, only relentless weighty conversations between characters that never really feel entertaining so much as voyeuristic and deliberate. And there's a great deal of pondering from the narrator (Mann) about things such as time (that one is fairly interesting) and life in general. He tends to start each chapter with a few paragraphs of opinion. The amount of investment you must offer for such minor rewards is a heavy ask. I struggled all the way through and never really enjoyed the experience. Sure, it's a great work and well written (though never beautiful in my opinion) but it's less of a book and more of a lecture. You will need to properly invest and frankly, I don't want to (not unless you make it a lot more entertaining).

Would I recommend it? Probably not. If you're going to investigate politics, history, philosophy etc then you should probably do it without the need for a somewhat banal fictional narrative surrounding it. Ultimately, this is a book that should be studied, not read.

 

5/10

 

Edited April 8 by Hux

[Hux]

Platform (2001) Michel Houellebecq

 

At first glance, it seems as though Houellebecq never writes about anything substantial. His novels are full of unrealistic sex and judgemental opinion, but by the end of the book, he's essentially predicted the fall of western civilization, the coming Islamic threat, and the continued hostility between the genders. He has his finger pretty much on the pulse but given that his conclusions are not in the spirit of the banal liberalism and progressivism we demand, they tend to get people riled up. But he continues to be the only writer saying something interesting. And he's funny.

There's a part of the book where he describes a woman's vaginal grip as akin to trying to remove a Lego from the hand of a retarded boy. Well, it made me laugh. The story begins with the narrator's (Michel's) father being murdered. It's solved very quickly (dad was fudgeing the Arab maid and her brother killed him). He uses this time to go on holiday to Thailand with a package tour including several other French people to essentially have sex with prostitutes. When he returns to France, he and Valerie (a 27-year lesbian woman also on the tour) shack up together in Paris. She works for a tourism company and her boss Jean-Yves is tasked with improving the company's tours. The three of them go to Cuba to assess why the resort is failing. Michel suggest he makes the tours more sex based and Jean-Yves agrees. Then they go back to France. Then Valerie wants to retire to Thailand. Then there's an insane ending.
 

Anything can happen in life, especially nothing.

I really enjoyed the book. It kept making me laugh. Especially the sex scenes which are ludicrous and pure fantasy on Houellebeq's part. Prostitutes love to orgasm apparently. And they orgasm very easily. And women (like Valerie) love threesomes and open relationships (like most women). The whole thing is absurd but immensely fun and laugh-out-loud (reminded me of Celine's Death on Credit when the head teacher's wife aggressively shags little Celine). Pure fantasy but overtly so (and should be read in that spirit).

Published before 9/11 or the attacks in Bali, Houellebecq predicts the rise of Islam (with more to come in Submission) and once again, as he always does, reiterates that western civilisation has lost its way and produced a method of living that is cold, soulless, and unsustainable. I always find something to like in his work. He is just my level of filth.

 

8/10

[niko]

On 4/8/2024 at 4:31 PM, Hux said:

The Magic Mountain (1924) Thomas Mann

 

Hans Castorp goes to visit his cousin Joachim at a sanatorium in Davos, Switzerland. His intention is to stay for three weeks but his own health has its issues and he ends up staying longer. Much longer. At the sanatorium he encounters several characters who (wouldn't you know it) all seem to represent a certain worldview (including Joachim) and like to speak (at length) about these ideas and opinions. The most prominent among them is Settembrini (humanism, liberal democracy, etc) and then later his counterpart Naphta (Commie garbage) and much later (towards the end in fact) Peeperkorn (aristocracy, Dionysian). Then we have the Russian lady Clavdia Chauchat (hot cat!) who, obviously, is a hot throbbing sexpot representation of temptations and lust and so on.

These characters all live in the sanatorium and engage in verbose dialogues that explore the slow destruction of Western civilisation as it succumbs to an era of extremists (which tends to happen when things get boring (see modern day for example)). Castorp (and Mann) can see what's on the horizon and though the book takes place before the first world war, it was obviously written after and yet (despite that war being behind us) Mann can see further problems ahead. He is concerned for the soul of Europe and sees that we are doomed.

My own interpretation of the book is that life at the sanatorium represents the human condition. We take a rest at this place (life) and delude ourselves into thinking that once we are well, healthy and strong, we can go out into the world when, in reality, we are never well, never healthy, and we are simply waiting for death to come. Why get better simply to go and die? There is no getting better. There's just being unwell then death. You're welcome. And Castorp (we assume) does indeed end the book by going off to the war.

So if you like weighty books that explore big themes, you should read this. That being said... I found it rather oppressive and dull. I've read whoppers before and found them engaging. My best comparison being Musil's 'The Man Without Qualities' which I enjoyed a lot. It explored the same big questions but did so by giving us a myriad of characters who push the narrative in different directions with new scenarios. It allows you (the reader) to take a breath as you dig into the next mammoth philosophical debate and adds colour to the proceedings. The Magic Mountain doesn't. It's just the same people at the sanatorium talking endlessly. There are no new environments or developments, only relentless weighty conversations between characters that never really feel entertaining so much as voyeuristic and deliberate. And there's a great deal of pondering from the narrator (Mann) about things such as time (that one is fairly interesting) and life in general. He tends to start each chapter with a few paragraphs of opinion. The amount of investment you must offer for such minor rewards is a heavy ask. I struggled all the way through and never really enjoyed the experience. Sure, it's a great work and well written (though never beautiful in my opinion) but it's less of a book and more of a lecture. You will need to properly invest and frankly, I don't want to (not unless you make it a lot more entertaining).

Would I recommend it? Probably not. If you're going to investigate politics, history, philosophy etc then you should probably do it without the need for a somewhat banal fictional narrative surrounding it. Ultimately, this is a book that should be studied, not read.

 

5/10

 

This book is all about time - what it's like, how it flows, how to handle it, and how to measure it

[Hux]

The Strangers in the House (1940) Georges Simenon

 

This is Simenon's bread and butter, a murder mystery, an investigation, a trial. But on closer inspection it's actually about a man waking up after 18 years of hiding from the world.

Hector Loursat was a gifted lawyer, married with a young baby when his wife suddenly ran off with another man. He has since spent the next 18 years in his enormous dusty mansion avoiding the world. He has no relationship with his daughter Nicole nor any of the servants that come and go including the dwarf Josephine who is essentially tasked with running the house. He is a broken man, an alcoholic, waiting for nothing.

Then he hears a shot somewhere in the house and discovers a body. What follows is a murder investigation that reveals a world unknown to him, the world of his daughter and her friends. They have apparently been having parties in his house, drinking, dancing, falling in love, without him ever knowing (or wanting to know) about it. Suddenly, he is forced to wake up, to find out what happened, to discover who these people are that have been sharing his house. But most of all he is finally finding out who his daughter, a total stranger, also is. Very quickly, her lover, Manu, is accused and Loursat agrees to defend him. He drinks less, he leaves the house more, he opens his eyes.

It's well written and very interesting but ultimately it wasn't anything special. Under normal circumstances you might dismiss it as a basic procedural, a murder mystery (not something I'm interested in), but for the fact that it's more about Loursat than anything else. Which is its saving grace. A nice little tale about middle-aged man regaining his life.

 

7/10

[Hux]

Three Trapped Tigers (1967) G. Cabrera Infante

 

I searched for this book for a long time and could never find a copy eventually having no choice but to accept a second hand copy that had crisp, yellow pages (perhaps after decades of being in a bedsit where a man (let's call him Leroy) smoked forty roll-ups a day). In a strange way, the sickly mustard hue almost suited the book and made me think of sun drenched beaches and cigarette filled bars.

I so wanted the book to be something glorious but, alas, it was nothing more than another febrile mess of Joycean mimicry not even attempting to masquerade as anything else. Infante can write but (like so many of his contemporaries) he made a choice of style over substance, to squander his talent by dismissing the opportunity to create a great work that would appeal to the world in perpetuity, instead focusing on ensuring that he would appeal to seven esoteric hipsters with names like Zac and Blane in a Seattle coffee shop who, on reflection, would eventually grow tired of their own performative claims of loving him anyway. The book is vague, incoherent, meandering, and unforgivably dull.

I am reliably informed that the book is about three young people in Havana. But honestly, if you told me it was about ten people or just one, I wouldn't be able to categorically confirm or deny the assertion. I had no idea what was happening, who was speaking, what people looked like, where things were taking place, or how any of it connected. Some parts were easy to read but I still had no context for what was going on or why it should matter to me. I couldn't even tell you the name of one of the narrators (I think one of them might have been a photographer called Codac) but I lost interest by then because amid the skittish chopping and changing, we also have some stream-of-consciousness prose (because obviously) that adds very little and only further muddies the waters. I think there was one solitary page where I found a beautiful sentence (describing the nightclub singer) and Cabrera does a decent job of generating a sense of heat and tropical sweat on various sunburned bodies, but that aside, I simply found the writing to be immensely dull and repetitive. That damn James Joyce has a lot to answer for.

There may be others out there who will like this so I would still recommend it but I found it extremely difficult to engage with. What makes it so frustrating (again) is the fact that Cabrera can clearly write but chose to do this instead. It's all just so tiresome. For all the inventive stuff thrown in (a mirrored page of backward writing, an upside down pyramid of writing, a few lists (because these kinds of books must always have lists) and several disjointed chapters that break things up for brevity), Cabrera never really considers the possibility that entertaining me me might also be an inventive thing to do.

Sigh. 

 

4/10

[Hux]

Night Train to Lisbon (2004) Pascal Mercier

 

A 57-year-old Swiss academic named Gregorius encounters a beautiful Portuguese woman on a bridge which, in turn, results in him ending up in a bookshop where he purchases a book by an obscure Portuguese author named Amadeu de Prado which leads to such a fascination with his work, his ideas, and his writing, that he feels compels to get on the night train to Lisbon and investigate who this man was. In Lisbon, he meets the writer's elderly sister, his best friend, his priest, and learns about the resistance movement under the Salazar dictatorship. All the while, he is translating Prado's work (sections written in italics) and becoming increasingly fascinated by the man's life.

Okay, so this was (initially) very easy to read and I was enjoying myself for the most part but as the book went on I had two very distinct problems. Firstly, the book never really goes anywhere and you can sense that is has no intention of going anywhere from very early on. It just goes around in circles and repeats the formula (Gregorius meets sister and learns more, Gregarious meets his old best friend and learns more, Gregarious meets such and such and learns a little more, etc etc). But the second (and much bigger problem) is the writing of the fictional Amadeu de Prado. This man's writing is apparently of such an exquisite standard, with such lyrical prose and philosophical musings, that it inspires our main character to change his life and contemplate the very meaning of human existence. Except... it just isn't. It's rather banal and laughable. It comes across as something an angsty teen would write on discovering Marx and offers up such dull and cliched cod philosophy that you wonder what Gregorius (an intellectual academic) could possibly find so compelling. At one point Mercier (as Gregorius) even says this about Prado's (actually Mercier's) writing:
 

"It displayed ability and stylistic elegance equal to Cicero; a force of thought and an honesty of feelings reminiscent of Augustine."

LOL. No, it didn't.

It seems very evident to me that Mercier read The Book of Disquiet by Pessoa and was so inspired by it (and why not, it's great) that he concocted this story of a man discovering the work and going to Lisbon. But Mercier had two choices here: Simply make it about Pessoa or (given his need for a more obscure writer) simply don't show us the text that your fictional writer has produced. Let the reader simply imagine how beautiful and profound it must be. Instead, he chose option three and wrote his own stuff under the name of Prado and (massively) overestimated how good it was.

Anyway, the book was okay but nothing more. Easy to read but mostly forgettable. By the halfway point, I was pretty much done with it. Oh well.

 

6/10

 

Edited April 25 by Hux

[Madeleine]

I think this was made into a film with Jeremy Irons a few years ago, not sure if the film might work better? I have this book somewhere but probably won't bother reading it now, as I've read other reviews which haven't been very good, so off to the charity shop it will go!

[Hux]

Possession (1990) A. S. Byatt

 

A modern day academic (Roland Michell) who specialises in the poetry of Randolph Henry Ash (a fictional 19th century poet) discovers a letter he wrote to an unknown woman and begins to investigate. He comes to learn that the woman was Christabel LaMotte (another reasonably well-known poet of the 19the century) and seeks the help of an academic called Maud Bailey who specialises in LaMotte. Together they uncover a lost love story between these two poets and follow in their footsteps as they become obsessed with solving the mystery. Unsurprisingly, these two modern day academics start to find themselves developing feelings for each other.

So I mostly enjoyed this but it wasn't the kind of thing I would normally read. I found the modern day story of Roland and Maud investigating the story of Ash and LaMotte to be very engaging, more so than the romance of the two poets themselves. There were some issues I had, however, the first being the letters between Ash and LaMotte which, frankly, I found a little dull to read. Then we have all the poetry in the book written by Ash or LaMotte (but actually written by Byatt) which was hard to assess. I'm not big into poetry and so I couldn't tell you if this stuff was good or not (certainly not if it was 19th century poet of global repute good). My instincts told me that it probably wasn't, that it was slightly... meh. But I couldn't tell you for sure. Good or not, I didn't really enjoy any of it (despite being aware that there were clues in these poems linking Ash and LaMotte).

Then there's another little nitpick I have. All the way through the book, we only learn about Ash and LaMotte's romance via their letters, their poetry, biographies etc. But then suddenly, towards the end of the book, Byatt just drops us into their lives (Ash and LaMotte) as they travel together in Yorkshire as man and wife which felt like a cheat. Why have Roland and Maude investigate all this stuff (the letters, books, poems etc) if you can simply narrate their story whenever you feel like it? It happens again at the very end of the book but that felt earned and necessary, a nice little touch to finish things off. But the earlier example just seemed out of place given everything that went before it. Anyway...

Ultimately, I liked the book and would recommend it. I especially liked the idea that love (deep, visceral love) can never escape the quality of being possessive. In a post feminist world (Byatt mentions feminism and feminist interpretations a lot in the book) women are increasingly repulsed by the idea of belonging to someone and yet that, by its very nature, is what true love always demands.

So yeah, the book wasn't really my cup of tea overall but it was entertaining, well written, well put together, and easy to read. And it goes without saying if you are a big softie who still believes in that thing called love *spits in disgust* then you will definitely find something to like here. The book is, after all, quite heartbreakingly romantic.

 

7/10

 

Edited Tuesday at 03:51 PM by Hux

[Hux]

A Shining (2023) Jon Fosse

 

More of a pamphlet than a book which, in theory, ought to have made my second attempt at reading Fosse an easier experience than that of the monotonous droning and repetition of Melancholy. But no, it's just more of the same where, in a brilliant twist of literary genius, Fosse replaces the full stop (also known as the period) with the word 'yes' or the word 'and' (but mostly yes) until he develops that unique style of his which, in truth, isn't very beautiful or enjoyable to read at all but, quite effectively, distracts you enough to make you believe that you've been reading something meaningful and profound.

You haven't.

What you've actually been reading is that episode of the Simpsons where people think a drugged up and radioactive Mr Burns is some kind of magical Will-o'-the-Wisp creature floating about the forest. Because that's essentially what happens here. A man driving nowhere in particular gets lost and stuck on a country road then wanders into the woods where he encounters 'a shining' presence (Boo Urns), and then his doddering parents, and then a man in a black suit with a white tie. And it is snowing and it is dark. Yes, it is snowing and it is dark.

The book does its best to be as blurry as possible and allow the reader to infuse as many pretentious and heart rending interpretations as they please (to their heart's content) and while I'm all in favour of that sort of thing (fruity indulgent nonsense is a delight after all) the fact remains that while I'm kidding myself that there are significant things being said about the human condition of eternal loneliness and isolation, or the bleak torment of fragile emotional connection, or the horror of ongoing existence itself, or, to be more practical, the outrageous lack of good quality signage on country roads for pedestrians and drivers alike, the book is written in a style where I am yet to find anything of worth. I mean it's completely fine and everything (almost a pleasant little ghost story) but if you're going to hand out Nobel prizes for this sort of thing then you can be damn sure I'm going to have an opinion about it. A strong opinion.

I just don't like this crap. 'Yes and the stone was cold and it was dark and yes, it was dark and the stone was large and it was cold and yes it was the word yes again and it was yes, and it was a stone and it was yes, yes she said, yes.'

Maybe it's a translation issue. I doubt it. I think this is just what people who have spent decades reading easily digestible mediocrity have concluded is great literature because they don't know any better. I dunno. This is just where we are. Deal with it. Whatever.

 

5/10

[Madeleine]

Love your review.  This really won a prize?  Looks like pretentious twaddle to me, but each to their own!

[Hux]

39 minutes ago, Madeleine said:

Love your review.  This really won a prize?  Looks like pretentious twaddle to me, but each to their own!

 

Nobel Prize. For his body of work but it's all very much like this.

[Madeleine]

🙄 I've never even heard of him.

[Hux]

28 minutes ago, Madeleine said:

🙄 I've never even heard of him.

 

There are so many Nobel prize winners I've never heard of.

 

I only read Olga Tokarczuk and Herta Muller because they are winners. Not especially impressed by either.

 

The modern winners are very obscure - https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_Nobel_laureates_in_Literature

 

 

 

 

 

[Hayley]

On 4/30/2024 at 4:41 PM, Hux said:

I found the modern day story of Roland and Maud investigating the story of Ash and LaMotte to be very engaging, more so than the romance of the two poets themselves.

I loved Possession and this is exactly how I felt about it too. I nearly didn’t read it because I suspected it would be mainly centre on romance - I’m glad I did! It is very well written (and made me want to go to Whitby!).

 

15 hours ago, Hux said:

he develops that unique style of his which, in truth, isn't very beautiful or enjoyable to read at all but, quite effectively, distracts you enough to make you believe that you've been reading something meaningful and profound.

You haven't.

Yet again, I suspect that your excellent review was much more enjoyable to read than the book would be 😂. 
 

Remember when Bob Dylan won the Nobel prize for literature? 🤷‍♀️. 

[Hux]

In Youth is Pleasure (1945) Denton Welch

 

I've been putting off reading Welch for a while because, due to various opinions I respect, my expectations have been raised to quite a significant level (the English Proust, you say?). This seems like a good place to start and while I enjoyed the book and was impressed by the writing, it never really became anything more than a charming tale of adolescence.

The story revolves around Orvil Pym, a fifteen year old boy who, for a few days in the summer holidays, leaves his boarding school to spend time in a hotel in Surrey with his father and two brothers (plus an additional trip down to Hastings). He never really feels connected to his brothers (especially the eldest, Charles) and finds himself wandering alone by the river or investigating abandoned buildings. He has various flights of fancy and creates a myriad of imagined scenarios (often self-indulgent and self-pitying) but ultimately feels dread at the idea of having to go back to school. Meanwhile the plot (such as it is) has a curious exploration of proto-sexual feelings, most of which are directed at the newlywed Aphra but which also seem to be aimed (subtly) in the opposite direction until a genuine sense of homoerotic tension is cultivated. It's very respectfully done and always maintains an ambiguous nature.

All in all, the book is very light and bounces along without ever offering anything too challenging. There are moments where you can really see why people have such a high opinion of Welch, where his prose becomes utterly drenched in metaphor and simile, with rich, inventive descriptions and clever analogies. It makes for a highly nourishing experience but, for me, it never quite hit the heights I was hoping for.

But I could see what people are talking about. The book is very charming and I look forward to reading more of his work.

 

7/10

 

Edited yesterday at 10:19 AM by Hux