I'm startled by the many middling reviews here; but then, I'm also not. The purview here is small—a deep dive into one poet's life as she recalls it oI'm startled by the many middling reviews here; but then, I'm also not. The purview here is small—a deep dive into one poet's life as she recalls it over the course of a single day�& it's admittedly insular in its hyper-articulated obsessions over the minutiae of the artistic life, but for me the cracks that slowly surface across the genteel surfaces of Mrs. Hilary Stevens' life felt cavernous & vast in meaning. There's a clear-eyed grappling with the contradictions & complexities that inevitably occur across the span of a full, long, adventurous life that I found so admirable. In the end I was, I admit, very moved.
Often struck me as a more accessible take on many of the same topics/themes of the great novelists of memory (Woolf, Proust, etc), which means it's being compared to some of the all-time greats. Its achievements are certainly (much) smaller, but to dismiss it for not scaling the greatest literary heights is to deprive oneself of so many minor pleasures�& everyday epiphanies.
"'They,' who said, 'How wonderful it must be to be a writer,' as if writing were a game of solitaire and one did not have to fight like a tiger for a moment's peace and quiet! Not to mention the struggle itself, the daunting of the doddering old servant, the persistent will necessary to get down to it when one had finally clawed one's way through to a piece of time."...more
To call the story thin is an understatement, & I found myself frequently bored by it. So why did I ultimately end up positive overall? Because of the To call the story thin is an understatement, & I found myself frequently bored by it. So why did I ultimately end up positive overall? Because of the razor-sharp insights every few pages that would give me a lil gay gasp in startled, often horrified recognition. But also with pleasure as well, in that somebody was finally stating outright what is often left unsaid—about long-term relationships, gay bar conversations & social dynamics, casual sex, insecurity, gay shame, gay cruelty, etc, etc—with a harsh but also wry, even loving way.
What occurred to me going back to write down all my favorite quotes, however, is that everything I found most memorable felt like it was straight out of one of O'Connell's personal essays, either collected in I'm Special: And Other Lies We Tell Ourselves or at waaaaay back in the day, both which were touchstones in the early formation of my own gay social self. Which is all to say that that's where I think O'Connell's true strengths as a writer lie; his gift is his singular voice, not in (auto)fiction, which mostly feels indistinguishable from what passes today as gay literature.
I will say this made a great gay book club selection, however—it sparked some of our best conversations yet.
[Also please allow me to be nerdy for a moment: I have to say it's so strange to me how the cover crops out the third figure from . After reading the novel it seems so obvious the triangulated gaze would have been much more thematically fitting to the text itself!]
"Please, somebody help us. No one tells you that, in long-term relationships, you will never love someone more and want to fuck them less. It's like, what's designed to keep you in love and your heart full is also the thing that will keep your penis deflated."...more
Certainly not one of the most memorable Christie yarn I've read, but always a soothing pleasure to return to her specific brand of midcentury small toCertainly not one of the most memorable Christie yarn I've read, but always a soothing pleasure to return to her specific brand of midcentury small town mayhem. ...more
A novel I admired more than enjoyed reading, though a rich book club discussion only deepened my respect for the many risks it takes. Though certain sA novel I admired more than enjoyed reading, though a rich book club discussion only deepened my respect for the many risks it takes. Though certain stretches can make for challenging reading (there were stretches that made me question my reading comprehension skills!), this operates in a distancing narrative mode I respond positively to; I found it intriguing how the narrator/main character manages to insist on remaining such an enigmatic cipher from the first page to the last.
Though it's not just Mamush, the anti-protagonist, that always remain an enigma to us—all of the characters are. There's a really interesting way that Mengestu carefully guards an essential privacy for all his characters, & it made me think of the ways that we are readers tend to insist on full access to literary characters' thoughts & interior lives, to be able to "solve the riddles" of their psyches through the reading process. This insistence on demystifying is especially the case with so-called "immigrant narratives," a form clearly being re-thought through here. But Mengestu seems to be insisting here that literary characters, as much as humans, have—and deserve—some essential unknowability, & thus extended autonomy.
I'm certain this would reward repeat readings, even if I'm not certain if I liked this enough to want to ever undertake it again. We shall see.
"'Tefou. You've vanished,' she would tell him, even if he had sat in our kitchen the night before talking to him for hours. Tefou, which could mean gone, or absent, or as she used it, missing in some way that had nothing to do with whether one was physically present in the here and now. You could be missing while standing next to someone, while living in the same house as them..."...more
Kelly's abstractions are something I have never responded too, so discovering his private sketch practice—intimate, sensitive, keenly aware of male beKelly's abstractions are something I have never responded too, so discovering his private sketch practice—intimate, sensitive, keenly aware of male beauty—have been nothing less than a revelation.
The essays included here are also of extremely high caliber, with the always-insightful Richard Meyer's "Drawing Near: Ellsworth Kelly's Private Portraits" the highlight for me & my particular interests....more
Not a mystery narrative but a narrative of mysteries. Little ones, delicate interlocking chains of riddles where it's unclear if there are, in fact, eNot a mystery narrative but a narrative of mysteries. Little ones, delicate interlocking chains of riddles where it's unclear if there are, in fact, even solutions at all. I found myself so hypnotized—perplexed, seduced—by my first read of this austere little novella that I felt compelled to return to it much quicker than is typical for me.
And I found revisiting does little to untangle these mysteries, it remains just as impassively recondite the second time around. If anything, it becomes even more strange. Just as much as her approach to narrative, Jaeggy's prose style is the source of this; often described as "icy" (it is), somehow her elegant detachment also manages to signal an underlying sensuousness too—almost etching it in relief.
Jaeggy seems to be scratching the same itch Duras once did for my younger self. I feel like I could just start right from the beginning and reread this once again. And probably again after that too.
Djuna Barnes + Marlene Dietrich? Nella Larsen + Greta Garbo?? Faulkner's youthful cinephilia? Max Ophüls? I've rarely come across a book that feels plDjuna Barnes + Marlene Dietrich? Nella Larsen + Greta Garbo?? Faulkner's youthful cinephilia? Max Ophüls? I've rarely come across a book that feels plucked quite so directly, almost uncomfortably, from some dream or fantasy of mine!
While I do wish I could recommend this unreservedly, I'll say right out it is highly theoretical academic scholarship that a general reader might well find quite inaccessible for long stretches. But if you're into that�& I can be—it's a deeply researched, imaginatively conceived, & at times breathlessly expansive consideration of unexpected connections that can be drawn between modernist experimental writing & writers with the most glamorous stars of classic Hollywood. Whether comparing an "erotics of unattachment" in Nightwood & von Sternberg's Morocco or expanding on a peripheral biographical note that Larsen went & watched Cukor's Camille over & over in a time of crises & its possible subsequent influence on Quicksand, I was constantly dazzled by Dabashi's insights, & in turn found it deeply generative to my own thinking.
A tour-de-force, & a pleasure.
"Understanding what happened to plot in modernism thus involves understanding what happened to it in the cinema... Losing the Plot shows that while these writers were withdrawing from plot as the unwanted inheritance of the 19th century novel, they were also seeing legacies of it in the commercial narrative cinema—through which plot returns to the novel in a deeply ambivalent form."...more
I took this up during a stretch when I needed an "exciting yarn" (as the New Yorker blurb on my edition puts it) to hold my attention, & out of a curiI took this up during a stretch when I needed an "exciting yarn" (as the New Yorker blurb on my edition puts it) to hold my attention, & out of a curiosity regarding what made this such a sensation in the 1930's, prompting it to be published in the format that became known as the mass market paperback.
It's not at all the novel I was expecting—which ended up interesting me more than the story itself. From my cultural awareness of the term "Shangri-La" I figured this would be an adventure tale, which I suppose it is in its outline, but not really in execution. Essentially it's a series of endless conversations situated in a series of increasingly exotic backdrops. Hilton does give these debates, which sometimes stretch to entire chapters, a momentum that make them feel more exciting than the content itself would seem to provide which is a credit to his talent as a writer. But honestly I just became utterly fascinated that such a heady, philosophically-driven novel found such a widespread readership & enduring place in the cultural imagination. I have such a hard time imagining something equivalent occurring in our present era!
I've never seen Capra's famous film adaptation, but looking forward to catching up with it now.
Conway gave a shrug. "Perhaps the exhaustion of passion is the beginning of wisdom, if you care to alter the proverb."
"That also, my son, is the doctrine of Shangri-La."
I hold no real desire to write fiction, so why do I occasionally take up guides about how to write it? Because I've found that an awareness of the tecI hold no real desire to write fiction, so why do I occasionally take up guides about how to write it? Because I've found that an awareness of the techniques fiction writers use makes me a better reader, & that much of the advice often can be easily applied to non-fiction writing as well (Livesey's use of Woolf to demonstrate the importance of "figuring out, as Woolf did in her letters, essays, & reviews, what our beliefs are & how we can embody them" in our writing was a real light bulb moment for my own writing projects).
In addition these essays are just as much sensitive literary analysis as it is writing advice per se; Livesey writes as perceptively on Woolf, Austen, James, Shakespeare & other authors as I've ever encountered�& much more accessibly than most. And as Livesey herself models here, writing that manages to convey a sense of the writer's own love of reading & language is the richest, & ultimately best type of writing.
"Readers need to demand beauty and truth, but they do not get to demand that novelists take care of them, or makes things easy."...more
As an introduction to Howe's work this volume was perhaps not the best place to start; the new poems appear first & I was struggling to connect with tAs an introduction to Howe's work this volume was perhaps not the best place to start; the new poems appear first & I was struggling to connect with them, & nearly set the entire book aside. But things began snapping into place once I reached the earlier work & I'm glad I hadn't been permanently detoured.
This isn't generally my preferred style of poetry—I do prefer flashier wielding of language, I fully admit—but I found many moments here made me suddenly catch my breath in recognition or epiphany. "On Men, Their Bodies," a literal catalogue of cocks, is one of the most delightful things I've encountered on the page in a good while.
My days and nights pour through me like complaints / and become a story I forgot to tell ("Prayer")...more
Richard R. Brettell's contribution "Thomas Eakins and the Male Nude in French Vanguard Painting, 1850 - 1890" is the real standout here.Richard R. Brettell's contribution "Thomas Eakins and the Male Nude in French Vanguard Painting, 1850 - 1890" is the real standout here....more
A vibe. Or, rather, a quite excellent encapsulation of the vibes of a particular place (Los Angeles) during a specific moment in time (early 1970s). LA vibe. Or, rather, a quite excellent encapsulation of the vibes of a particular place (Los Angeles) during a specific moment in time (early 1970s). Lambert's polished, carefully detached narrational style, smooth as the ice that sparkles & clinks quietly in a gin & tonic, conjures the brittle surface glamour that makes SoCa so endlessly beguiling, while also inferring the emotional quicksand pits suspended just beneath. Not long after I happened to revisit Chinatown, made several years later, & was struck in how in sync the two felt.
Now must read more by Lambert.
"For a while Susan and I stayed out of touch with each other. This meant nothing except that we were both living in Southern California and, as the saying goes, in different worlds. There are so many different worlds here, separated by distances of twenty or thirty miles, that people live in tribes rather than as a community. The world outside is something you see from a car."...more
A restless, perplexing read that isn’t always pleasurable per se, but endlessly stimulating & ultimately rewarding. Carson’s writing has, for lack of A restless, perplexing read that isn’t always pleasurable per se, but endlessly stimulating & ultimately rewarding. Carson’s writing has, for lack of a better term, an uncanny quality, as if she translates her writing into ancient Greek and then back into contemporary English again, a game of linguistic telephone that alters & expands meaning each step along the way. The result often feels slightly awkward, intuitively wrong�& yet iridescent too?
A line like “Washington’s eyes flapped open like a soul on a clothesline� is a good example of this; somehow it feels both utterly contemporary and like a random utterance snatched from a fragment of ancient text. As is the case with most of Carson's writing, most everything here feels like it jangles somewhere outside of time, staticky reclamations from an alternate historical timeline. To my mind "Lecture on the History of Skywriting" is the best illustration of this, & is my favorite piece collected in this brilliantly "incorrect" collection.
"I say this now to remind myself how words can squirt sideways, mute & mad; you think they are tools, or toys, or tame, & all at once they burn all your clothes off & you're standing there singed & ridiculous in the glare of the lightning."...more
I liked this more than I was expecting to, though with caveats. I was anticipating a full-throated critique of the queer community's dogged insistenceI liked this more than I was expecting to, though with caveats. I was anticipating a full-throated critique of the queer community's dogged insistence on "positive representation only" & portraying our history as a relentlessly affirmative forward-march toward liberation. As is rightly pointed out in the introduction, we don't grapple nearly enough with the fact that Lord Alfred Douglas is just as key to a historical understanding of ourselves as Oscar Wilde. Indeed, we willfully overlook deeply problematic behaviors in our canonization of the former, & conveniently forget that latter coined "the love that dare not speak its name," one of our most enduringly beautiful euphemisms. Put another way: we are willing to ascribe inevitable human fallibility in some situations, but not all.
What I wasn't quite expecting was the invitation to reconsider the term "bad" in & of itself—or at least embrace its ambiguity & imprecision. What we consider "bad" as a society at this particular moment in time can be very different than in others, a reality that we as a community, like all marginalized groups, have been both victimized by and wielded to our benefit at various historical junctures. Once again we collectively tend not to wrestle with these dynamics too deeply, & in that sense Bad Gays attempts a much appreciated corrective�& provocation.
But if the book club I read this with is any indication, this underlying argument unfortunately gets a bit muddy in execution, & so our discussion ended up just being mostly about why certain figures were included here, with "X just doesn't seem that bad" a constant puzzled refrain. I think this directly ties to my own personal criticism—which believe me I'm deeply sympathetic to—is that it gets awkwardly suspended between academic & popular writing modes.
So on the one hand for those who are interested in the more theoretical claims they can often feel more signaled than fully articulated (it certainly helps to have some previous knowledge of, say, the extensive scholarly debates around the idea of "queer failure"), but then at the same time are also deployed just enough to cause confusion for those who want to focus primarily on the otherwise engagingly written biographical accounts. It's an underlying tension I sensed as a reader that never manages to feel fully resolved, & in the end compromised the overall impact of the reading experience.
It is not simply that these are fascinating, complex lives that compel us towards understanding homosexuality. They also ask us to pose the question of the whole notion of gay heroes: why do we choose to remember, and why do we choose to forget?...more
It's not often that one book will completely take over all my reading & force me to give it my full attention until it is completed—but that's exactlyIt's not often that one book will completely take over all my reading & force me to give it my full attention until it is completed—but that's exactly what happened here. Flinty & unsparing, refusing easy answers or expected explanations at every turn, this is a novel unapologetically built around an unlikable character which makes it in turn a rather unlovable little book.
Or I imagine that's the case for many, & the main reason why this remains largely unknown outside of a small (but as reviews here demonstrate, extremely devoted) cultish following. But I loved Abra from the jump; or at least deeply respected the way she�& so by extension we—grapple so ruthlessly with the thorny issues of personal autonomy, social/familial responsibility, kinship, the right to self-determination, beautifully delineated through Barfoot's sedulous, coldly elegant prose. An instant all-time favorite.
"And then I left them, left all of it. Nothing in particular, but something began to happen, and it ended in the spring I came here. The ending was clear and distinct and cold and final; I search, but cannot find the beginning. I have snapshots in my mind, but there are no answers; only labels on the back."...more
It was taking longer than usual for me to start connecting with the little poetic diamond shards collected here, but about 1/3 of the way in the captiIt was taking longer than usual for me to start connecting with the little poetic diamond shards collected here, but about 1/3 of the way in the captivating admixture of wit, wryness, & endlessly unexpected images & turns of phrase I've come to expect from Ryan's work sparkled as brightly as ever. Always a pleasure.
We are held / as in a carton / if someone / loves us. / It's a pity / only loss / proves this"...more
I was charmed & finally quite delighted by this social comedy; I have a special love for novels that are little more than low-stakes depictions of theI was charmed & finally quite delighted by this social comedy; I have a special love for novels that are little more than low-stakes depictions of the messy little foibles of everyday life, & this is a particularly good example. Centered around the formidable title character who quite literally functions as our navigation system to the insular little social bubble of uppercrust Tilling, Elizabeth Mapp could quite easily have been a deeply unpleasant character, but Benson holds so much wry affection for her that we can't help but be quickly won over too. The same can also be said about all of the other characters that become entangled in Miss Mapp's orbit (although I found the men significantly less engaging than the women & their always-simmering battle of wills).
Benson's style reminded me at times of Wilde, only less bitchy-clever & more good-naturedly amused (ie "it was very inconvenient that honesty would be the best policy"). I burst out laughing multiple times, & I had to sheepishly explain to my confused boyfriend that it was situational humor & unexpected turns of phrase that are really only funny in context.
This was my first encounter with Benson's universe & I'm very much looking forward to engaging with it more.
"It is no use denying that the Cosmic Consciousness of the ladies of Tilling was aware of a disagreeable anticlimax to so many hopes and fears. It had, of course, hoped for the best, but it had not expected that the best would be quite as bad as this."...more
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