Poignant shit. Not least because I read the whole thing in miserably autobiographical mode. Thanks for nothing, TH. You are, will always be the CounciPoignant shit. Not least because I read the whole thing in miserably autobiographical mode. Thanks for nothing, TH. You are, will always be the Councillor’s wife. ...more
Waiting for Godot - except instead of a blasted heath with a solitary tree, our two are sited on a grubby bench in the ferry terminal of the Spanish pWaiting for Godot - except instead of a blasted heath with a solitary tree, our two are sited on a grubby bench in the ferry terminal of the Spanish port town of Algeciras, and instead of Godot, they are waiting for a girl. Will she show, or won't she? Three decades of the Irish experience, reminded me of Donal Ryan and equally loved. ...more
Terrifying in the worst way, as the story of Medea Redux should be.
Again like Kit de Waal and Joseph Ponthus, Vero Olmi excavates one corner of the vTerrifying in the worst way, as the story of Medea Redux should be.
Again like Kit de Waal and Joseph Ponthus, Vero Olmi excavates one corner of the vast geography that is the underclass, the oppressed of the West in the 21st century. You need to have a heart of stone not to be moved by the horror and the pity of this story. ...more
Kit de Waal writes of the dregs, the refuse of this rotten society- and she does so with restraint and compassion and what I imagine is the insight ofKit de Waal writes of the dregs, the refuse of this rotten society- and she does so with restraint and compassion and what I imagine is the insight of an insider.
Well worth looking out for her other stuff....more
Renault's process is nothing short of alchemical, her reimaginations bold to the point of stunning, her prose a match for the quotidian majesty of herRenault's process is nothing short of alchemical, her reimaginations bold to the point of stunning, her prose a match for the quotidian majesty of her subject. The world-historical conqueror lives again, vividly realized and utterly believable in the questing restless of his early years. Philip and Olympias, Hephaistion and Aristotle, the taming of the legendary Bucephalus - it's all here and it's safe to say the tale will never be done better than in Renault's trilogy. On to Bagoas! ...more
Aslam's debut novel reminded me at times of the early stories of GGM - the profound torpor and isolation of the village, literally lost in the middle Aslam's debut novel reminded me at times of the early stories of GGM - the profound torpor and isolation of the village, literally lost in the middle of nowhere and forever flattened by the heat. The large array of characters, the complex power dynamics, the muted echoes of distant political upheavals. The plot is thin, but Aslam has an eye - his acute observation of the small details of ordinary life repeatedly evoked memories of growing up in a similarly pre-technological time and a similarly religious Muslim society.
Luckily, with his next book, he tore out all the stops - even if it took him 11 years to write it. ...more
easy to see how this must have been totally OF the moment when COVID hit.. Mandel's conception of how a global pandemic might unfold turns out to haveeasy to see how this must have been totally OF the moment when COVID hit.. Mandel's conception of how a global pandemic might unfold turns out to have been eerily prescient given what actually happened in the spring of 2020.. cast of characters was decent, although i have to say i found the travelling symphony and its characters less than compelling.. far more interesting the stories of arthur leander and his many wives and friends just before the world was about to go tits up.. the world-building aftewards also lacked the detail that I would have wanted, especially the granularity of what happens to the human body, its diseases and degradations, in a world that's gone back to primitivity.. nonetheless, a decent read that will remain one of the monuments to a unique episode of our lifetimes. ...more
‘All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. If you read it you must stop where Jim is stolen from the b‘All modern American literature comes from one book by Mark Twain called Huckleberry Finn. If you read it you must stop where Jim is stolen from the boys. That is the real end. The rest is just cheating. But it’s the best book we’ve had. All American writing comes from that. There was nothing before. There has been nothing as good since.�...more
All the postmodern trickery you would expect from the lineage of Borges - incidences and coincidences abound even in the person (and the past) of one All the postmodern trickery you would expect from the lineage of Borges - incidences and coincidences abound even in the person (and the past) of one hostel landlord, Enrique. Anchored for me by a terrific centrepiece - the burning down of the private school over ten pages, then repeated and refracted in faithful miniature immediately afterwards in ten more. Bravura performance, that.
As for trying to find a cosmic message in four discrete, disjointed narratives, your mileage may vary. ...more
A story that works on many levels, but the one that stayed with me was Sharik himself as a metaphor. A metaphor for the Bolshevik system that piled inA story that works on many levels, but the one that stayed with me was Sharik himself as a metaphor. A metaphor for the Bolshevik system that piled into the nation, destroyed every single room, and left the old (deceptive?) peace and quiet of the place in utter ruin. Except of course, that same dog, which was at times as harsh as Stalin and as mild as Gorby, has since then reinvented itself again, revitalized and transmogrified itself into the 100-ft monster that is Vladimir Vladimirovich Putin.
I don't think Preobrazhensky or Bormenthal have, or ever had, a plan for that....more
Reminded me very much of similar works that erased the line between fiction and real lives - Juan Gabriel Vasquez, Javier Cercas, and Bolaño. What do Reminded me very much of similar works that erased the line between fiction and real lives - Juan Gabriel Vasquez, Javier Cercas, and Bolaño. What do you call this? Meta-fiction? Non-fiction fiction? In Labatut's case, his fascination is with science and the scientists who upended human civilization in the 20th century - Haber, Schwarzschild, Mochizuki and Grothendieck, Schrodinger and Heisenberg. ...more
From what I gather, this is regarded as something of a modern classic in Spain. Turned into a popular movie, I even find evidence of it being adapted From what I gather, this is regarded as something of a modern classic in Spain. Turned into a popular movie, I even find evidence of it being adapted as a play. It's not bad as a morality tale, although the frenetic spleen of the author in the early chapters, so enjoyable and entertaining, turns rather into soft mushy goo once he claps eyes on Rosana. That divine piece of jailbait rifts the story straight down the middle, and it all comes to a messy end, inevitably. Kinda bad, and kinda sad.
PS Some clunkiness in the translation, I think, stands in the way of a better reading experience. ...more
Without a doubt, my favourite book in the trilogy. At least 200 pages longer than the other two volumes, and it is for this same loose, self-indulgentWithout a doubt, my favourite book in the trilogy. At least 200 pages longer than the other two volumes, and it is for this same loose, self-indulgent bagginess of plot and character that I love the book so much - the same reasons, in fact, for which some tend to dislike it. But if anyone wants to get a flavour of South East Asia in the fucked-up 1970s - the smells and sounds of Hong Kong, Bangkok, or war-torn Cambodia (OMG, the airfield scenes!) - one need look no further than what Le Carre achieved here. Ave atque vale on that desolate beach, Jerry Westerby. ...more
Something of a mini-cause celebre in his day, the sad history of Sinyavsky/Tertz appears to be utterly forgotten today. As per the GR count at least, Something of a mini-cause celebre in his day, the sad history of Sinyavsky/Tertz appears to be utterly forgotten today. As per the GR count at least, few people read him any more and fewer still can be bothered to comment on his work. Reading this grim fiction about the doctors' plot that preceded the death of Stalin, the one question that returned to me was - is this it? is this all? will nothing ever change there? 70 years later, some latter-day Sinyavsky could be writing pretty much the same tale of a grotesquely deformed society, bent out of shape by surveillance and repression and obedience, and he could be sent to the same gulag in Siberia or thrown out into the same exile that Sinyavsky himself suffered for writing the same kind of "dissident lit" ... it has all just become such a dreadful, tedious, repetitious cliche of Russian life, the Russian mind and soul that such a society can aspire to nothing better, can find no way out of the hamster cage, running the same fucking wheel it's been running on for nigh on centuries now.
Rescued this from a damp, steaming pile of Russian books which had gotten caught out in the garage by September rains - bang in the middle of an epic Rescued this from a damp, steaming pile of Russian books which had gotten caught out in the garage by September rains - bang in the middle of an epic house move (hopefully my last). When I started reading, every page was wet; by the time I was done every page was dry. But the book itself, the reading experience proved quite unsatisfactory. The only Beryl I've enjoyed so far is Birthday Boys. This particular mishmash of comic farce, Englishman abroad, exotic travelogue, wannabe thriller fails to deliver on most counts. I don't know what the contemporary NYT reviewer was thinking. ...more
Say what you will about WW2, it did give rise to some seriously accomplished art. This book reminded me so much of Boll's "The Train Was on Time". ExcSay what you will about WW2, it did give rise to some seriously accomplished art. This book reminded me so much of Boll's "The Train Was on Time". Except the lens is reversed here - Boll's was the story of a young German soldier riding the rails to inevitable death on the Eastern Front. Hrabal tells the story of a Czech lad, a railway apprentice in a sleepy country station, whose winter day starts off in confusion and befuddlement but which concludes with deep contentment and unwitting heroism. And, of course, death. Poignant, bloody, painful death - the like of which has returned to Europe after 30 years.
Hrabal studied law, but the Germans came and ruined any hope of a career. He became an itinerant worker - among the long list of professions listed in the back of this book are "..labourer in a steel works, baler of waste paper for salvage, and scene-shifter in a theatre." They don't make writers like this any more. Forged in the furnace of life itself. The book was made into a successful movie by Jiri Menzel - the bits and pieces I've seen on YouTube appear to emphasize the comic erotica of the story. There is that, of course, lots of laughs and lots of smut - but the ending is what really elevates this to the level of a classic.
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