2018 Autumn: The Rise and Fall of What Are You Reading Now?

yeah, i don't plan on dropping it, i like it a lot. i'm just thinking about reading something concurrently as a counter-weight, perhaps something non-fiction

tbh i feel the counterweight to moby dick is fiction rather’n non fiction.

was thinking the bruce auto-bio, but yeah i get your meaning

oh yeah that’ll do!

https://www.google.co.uk/search?q=steve+bruce+autobiography&client=safari&hl=en&prmd=nisv&source=lnms&tbm=isch&sa=X&ved=0ahUKEwjiv52T7YveAhWRecAKHfaFC-4Q_AUIECgC&biw=375&bih=553#imgrc=gCewMhZseCdfXM

fuck id forgotten about his thrillers.

https://thesetpieces.com/features/sweeper-steve-bruce-review/

sounds a bit like lanchester in fact.

Another is Bruce’s construction of his own maddeningly specific network of fictional clubs. It’s called the Bruniverse (by me) and it’s a world very much like our own, excepting his decision to mangle the names of those clubs with which he has been connected, as well as an increasingly large, seemingly randomly smattering of others. It’s like a pound-shop Westeros, only made up entirely of places you imagine voted for Brexit despite being largely dependent on EU funding.

that last quote is a bit snide. but the general review is enormous fun.

the bruce springsteen auto-bio i meant ha

finally reading something after a long long dry spell -- outline by rachel cusk. it's likely somewhat due to the rush of reading something self-reflective after not having read anything for months but it's turning me toward attaching a form to the last few messy years of my life, which is nice. the right book at a fertile time.

love it when that happens. when a book does that.

Kind of weird but also likeable that a book like Outline is gathering a sort of 'everybody reads it' status given that the premise of Creative Writing tutor meets rich people while being divorced should be the least interesting and most typical lit-scene navelgazy thing ever. I guess it's that it's stuff about the need for relationships/what 'purpose' they serve that makes it more universal than it should be? I feel like I should hold it in contempt, but actually found it great.

50p charity shop find : Nell Dunn's Up The Junction. Wonderful stuff so far.

I'm reading the final book of stories from Deborah Eisenberg's Collected Stories: Twilight of the Superheroes. I'd been saving that one, but now that she has a new volume out, I don't have to feel bad about finishing it.

I like Bruce's BORN TO RUN book a lot.

I also feel that I should read Steve Bruce's books.

Also Lenny Bruce's autobio, How To Talk Dirty and Influence People.

I finished The Gate of Angels. It had Fitzgerald's characteristic excellence. The story, characters, and prose avoided every kind of cliché and staleness and all were drawn with sure, strong strokes. It even had the tiniest whiff of a ghost story about it, though without insisting. Never insisting. Lastly, in its own indirect and understated way, it was highly feminist and class conscious. A fine book.

I read Municipal Dreams, which is a history of council housing in the UK. It made me angrier and better-informed.

Giorgio Agamben, Homo Sacer: Sovereign Power and Bare Life

Today I finished How Should a Person Be? by Sheila Heti which, like all good books, is about women.

(And other things, like the struggles of art and Judaism)

still plowing through vol 3 of Callow's Orson Welles bio ("One Man Band") and Oriana Fallaci's "If the Sun Dies", plus occasionally dipping back into some Ballard and Moorcock short story collections

The Dead Girls, by Jorge Ibargüengoitia: surely an influence on the most gruelling part of 2666. The back cover and the intro by Colm Toibin both describe this book as hilarious, which is wildly innaccurate (not a criticism--it's not TRYING to be hilarious).

I got "If the Sun Dies" and keep not getting round to it. How is it?

Pnin by Vladimir Nabokov, so now I know where one Ilxor got their screen name...

Coincidentally, I also finished a Fitzgerald novel: At Freddie's, the only one I hadn't read and a minor disappointment.

I got "If the Sun Dies" and keep not getting round to it. How is it?

I am only 75 pages in but I love it. She's a remarkable writer in the right place at the right time.

Anthony Powell - Afternoon Men
Dezso Kosztolanyi - Anna Edes
Anthony Powell - Venusberg
Thomas Bernhard - The Lime Works

Alternating between the usual (mostly) European/Latin American fiction I read and starting on a few English novels written white, mostly Tory sorts. In these early Anthony Powell novels the comedy really hits, and the dialogue is so good. Afternoon Men has a streak of anti-semitism running through it and both of these books have this deeper tragedy on the relations between men and women that wouldn't be out of place at all today.

I need to give Powell another try after a fruitless summer reading the entire A Dance sequence.

The early novels are short so worth a go at tuning into his worldview. A lot of the comedy is really sharp, actually (I'll need to re-read some of the Perry Anderson essay but I think he undersells this?) I want to finish a couple of his short books before getting to that sequence - maybe next year.

xp Seems like you gave Powell an extensive workout already, so I see no 'need' to go back to him unless it is, in fact, a misnamed 'want' to go back.

vintage aimless

I remember The Gate of Angels being clever further in, but otherwise about all that stuck was the lovely exhilarating opening scene of bicycle action. Should probably go back. That was some great bicycling.

recently read some v. appealing descriptions of short stories and novellas in three new stand-alone Andre Dubus collections. I like that he was an early fan of Chekov (also Hemingway and his own instructor, Richard Yates). Also that he was apparently not a stylist in the-then dominant Carveresque key, and was a deep diver into big messy family situations and resulting inner conundrums of friends and relations. Also saw Part I of The Woman In White on PBS, and thinking I need to check out Wilkie Collins too: seems to have the observant foregrounding of gender codes (def incl. legal) that I associate Trollope at his best, plus melodrama x class-anxious, striving young characters re Dickens---also a detective.

david peace - 1974. gruelling. claustrophobic. in a good way. particularly effective at dragging items of pop culture into the mire. very effective. < note effect of staccato prose rythms.

xp Seems like you gave Powell an extensive workout already, so I see no 'need' to go back to him unless it is, in fact, a misnamed 'want' to go back.

― A is for (Aimless),

"Short and funny" is a wonderful tag, worked for Woody Allen's early movies. I'm a fan of the Anglo-Irish miniaturists (Waugh, Pym, K. Amis, Spark, Fitzgerald).

See also Beryl Bainbridge

I'm a fan of the Anglo-Irish miniaturists (Waugh, Pym, K. Amis, Spark, Fitzgerald).

― You like queer? I like queer. Still like queer. (Alfred, Lord Sotosyn), Monday, 22 October 2018 20:48 (yesterday) Bookmark Flag Post Permalink

Early Powell definitely fits here. Dance is substantially different in tone, while still retaining many characteristics.

david peace - 1974. gruelling. claustrophobic. in a good way. particularly effective at dragging items of pop culture into the mire. very effective. < note effect of staccato prose rythms.

I read these over the course of last Spring/ Summer and the cumulative power is quite a thing.

I read Brooklyn by Colm Toibin. As a tale of the Irish diaspora (though this might just be my prejudice), Toibin's task was somehow a battle with sentimentality. He gets around it by seeming to wrap his character (Eilis) in a kind of bubble wrap of free indirect style, in which he moves her from experience to experience, shielding her, and us, from the worst excesses of sentiment and tragedy.

It does mean a separation from the rawness of things, but I think that's a stylistic choice anyway; it also means that the emotion of the story sort of seeps into you - the tragedy being that of character and circumstance rather than a clumsy tugging at the heartstrings. I don't know if I loved it, but I certainly can't stop thinking about it. I think Toibin, much like people said about Flaubert and Bovary, fell in love with Eilis; I did a bit, too.

I've been vacationing for a few days. I raced through Maigret Gets Angry, Georges Simenon. It was exactly what one wants from a Maigret novel, neither more nor less.

Now I am three-quarters of the way through The Little Nugget, a very early P.G. Wodehouse novel (1913). It demonstrates all the Wodehouse trademarks, but has one unusual feature; it is narrated in the first person by a character who displays an unwodehousian self-knowledge and level-headedness.

The standard-issue lovesick swain in later Wodehouse has been streamlined down the farcical basics and is a chucklehead. Peter Burns is more of a holdover from Wodehouse's earlier public-school hero Mike, the athletic, noble-minded sixth-former at Wryken School, except now he is 30 years old. This makes The Little Nugget one of those evolutionary transitional steps which are so difficult to find in the fossil record, rather like a proto-bird emerging from the dinosaurs, with feathers and wings, but recognizably not yet a modern bird.

https://prodimage.images-bn.com/pimages/9781613399040_p0_v1_s600x595.jpg

Yes thanks, online bookseller, I'm sure I will enjoy that one too.

Re-reading Kathleen Jamie's Findings. It's very much part of that confessional style that characterises a lot of 00s nature writing (albeit it came out two years before the lodestone, The Wild Places) but it's the pinnacle of that style, I think, and just cuts to the heart of me. I was going to select a bit to share but (to paraphrase John Muir) you pick up one corner and you drag the whole damn thing into the air.

Oh now you gotta do it!

I read Brooklyn by Colm Toibin. As a tale of the Irish diaspora (though this might just be my prejudice), Toibin's task was somehow a battle with sentimentality. He gets around it by seeming to wrap his character (Eilis) in a kind of bubble wrap of free indirect style, in which he moves her from experience to experience, shielding her, and us, from the worst excesses of sentiment and tragedy.

It does mean a separation from the rawness of things, but I think that's a stylistic choice anyway; it also means that the emotion of the story sort of seeps into you - the tragedy being that of character and circumstance rather than a clumsy tugging at the heartstrings. I don't know if I loved it, but I certainly can't stop thinking about it. I think Toibin, much like people said about Flaubert and Bovary, fell in love with Eilis; I did a bit, too.

A lovely little novel I read in two sittings in summer '09. OTM.

Read an extended review of CT's new nonfiction Mad, Bad, and Dangerous, biographies of the fathers of Yeats, Joyce, and Wilde, whose families were all acquainted with each other in the small, shopworn world of Dublin, when it had "a shapeless aura," according to the author. Mad daddies, each in his own way, but it says here that JB Yeats finally gave up on finishing his self-portrait (after a decade; apparently, none of these geezers ever finished anything), and ran off to NYC at the age of 68, reporting back that he'd found big fun as a Colorful Irish Character, and I'd like to stroll the sidewalks and saloons with him a bit more---maybe I'll get the library to order it. Seems like pretty hairy subject matter for Toibin.

(Haven't read Brooklyn, but enjoyed the movie. don't know if I loved it, but I certainly can't stop thinking about it. Yes, the ending, for instance, did leave me with more to think about than most endings, re how the characters' lives might go later.)

The three essays making up that book were all in the LRB: not sure if they're publicly accessible

John Le Carre's The Little Drummer Girl, an adaptation of which is soon to air on the BBC, directed by Park Chan Wook! First 100 pages are spent setting up all the characters involved, next 100 deal mostly with a truly exhausting interrogation scene which I'm sure forms part of what drew Chan Wook to this material. I've only read one Le Carre before - Spy Who Came In From The Cold - and by contrast this is much less sad-sack, much weirder.