Autumn 2020: Is Everything Getting Dimmer or Is It Just Me?

I mean AILD is hysterical. SPOILERS, but there are multiple scenes that play out like a teen sex or gross-out comedy (Dewey Dell trying to get the abortion, them setting Cash's leg with fucking cement, come to mind). In addition they are absolutely horrifying and tragic as well. Then the story literally ends on a (gut) punchline. As a humorist, Faulkner was an SOB.

I read Dhanveer Brar's monograph on Dean Blunt. It casts Blunt (primarily through a listening to '“BBF” Hosted by DJ Escrow') as an avatar of dissent, a continuation of various voices, from Beefy (from Babylon), through Kwesi to AR Kane. It sent me back to the music, as all good music writing should.

Now reading Roadside Picnic. It might just be the translation but as much as I love the premise, the hardbitten noir of the narrative voice is leaving me a little cold.

That should have said that Brar places Blunt's work as part a continuum, critiquing Britishness and the exclusion of certain voices.

Peckinpah directed Porter's "Noon Wine"

Wow, forgot about the series he did that for, after the heyday of anthology TV (the later series that Mom got those Faulkners from was on PBS, mostly or all in the 80s, I think):
Five years after the final broadcast of CBS’ Playhouse 90 symbolically signaled the end of the “golden age of television,” ABC-TV announced plans for an ambitious new anthology, Stage 67, with an eclectic single-season slate of twenty-six programs across genres.
promising description---now I think I'm remembering an image from it---the original AMC sometimes showed prestige items from 50s-60s TV, so maybe I saw it there:
https://www.cinema.ucla.edu/events/2013-03-23/abc-stage-67-noon-wine-abc-112366-human-voice-abc-5467
Getting more strictly thread-relevant, I intend to soon read at least some of Porter's Collected Stories.

Oops, Tommy Lee Jones, played Ab, not Flem, sorry. This is the series, also incl. Porter's "The Jilting of Granny Weatherall." (I remember several of these, like "The Blue Hotel" and "Bernice Bobs Her Hair" and "Paul's Case" and "I'm a Fool," but must have flushed all memories of Henry Fonda in so many of these, jeez, never did like him much in anything.
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_American_Short_Story

incl. Indians calmly tracking their black runaway slave

That story is in the collection I'm reading. It's a ripsnorting tale, I could imagine it directed by Quentin Tarantino, though I'm not sure even he would have the balls to tempt the gods of cancel culture that much. Faulkner's depictions of native Americans tend to border on caricature, but I guess that was not unusual for the time.

recently finished The Windup Girl by Paolo Bacigalupi. the immediately striking things about it are the futurist Thai and bioengineered setting, which is by far the biggest success of the book:

Around him, the market soi bustles with Bangkok’s morning shoppers. Mounds of durians fill the alley in reeking piles and water tubs splash with snakehead fish and red-fin plaa. Overhead, palm-oil polymer tarps sag under the blast furnace heat of the tropic sun, shading the market with hand-painted images of clipper ship trading companies and the face of the revered Child Queen. A man jostles past, holding vermilion-combed chickens high as they flap and squawk outrage on their way to slaughter, and women in brightly colored pha sin bargain and smile with the vendors, driving down the price of pirated U-Tex rice and new-variant tomatoes.

i got somewhat bored about half way through, and when i started thinking about putting my thoughts down here, that was going to be my takeaway; it struggles with propulsion. this got me thinking about one of the propulsive elements of some science-fiction, which is to say the mechanics behind unfamiliar language, images and behaviour get revealed through the course of the book. that never really happens here, there are all sorts of phenomena left unexplained. equally, any plot there is never really coheres as such.

and herein lies something of its... interest? charm? basically the story is one of several quite differently motivated, historied and not unequivocally sympathetic characters, within a city and state zone, beyond and within whose boundaries is looming destructive threat. That threat - effectively of non-state agrifood industrial actors – has many vectors. Characters are all making plans, which never come to fruition, actions are regularly made on the basis of error or misinterpreted information, nothing tends towards any form of completion, and the scenes of coup and urban collapse, are the natural completion of a set of hidden

i don't think this is always enormously *good* or entirely satisfactory as such, but it is interesting, and it's interesting also to read how the author really struggled with direction, themes, closure, arc etc - all that is fairly evident - I'm pretty certain it was the ultimate source of my boredom and sense of lack of movement and shape - but it does result in a quite unusual book.

So once I sat down to think about it, i ended up being rather more intrigued and satisfied by my reading of it than i necessarily was when I put the book down.

Have you read Mieville's The City and The City? Some stumbles, but a good-faith urban and urban interzone multi-cultural thriller/procedural (doesn't let the conceptually layered settings or the plot get in each other's way, or not too much).

For the most part, they advance each other.

I finished Jenny Offill's hilarious Lydia Davis-indebted Dept. of Speculation. I started my first Stefan Zweig, Burning Secret.

I auditioned a few moderately demanding books to see if they met my mood, but it turns out my mood is for something utterly plain, neutral and emotionally undemanding. Therefore I'll be reading Grocery: The Buying and Selling of Food in America, Michael Ruhlman.

xp I think that was my first Zweig as well (it leads the collection of his novellas published a few years ago), and if I'm not mistaken I devoured it in a single sitting -- though I didn't exactly love it, and I have trouble recalling anything at all about it now beyond a vague sense of the setting.

On the other hand, Chess Story -- which I approached somewhat warily, not being a chess player -- haunts me.

Was somewhat lit up last night and got deeply into the first few sections of Jean-Luc Nancy's 'Being Singular Plural.'

Have you read Mieville's _The City and The City_? Some stumbles, but a good-faith urban and urban interzone multi-cultural thriller/procedural (doesn't let the conceptually layered settings or the plot get in each other's way, or not too much).

I met him once. He said he didn't like THE DARK KNIGHT because it endorsed a fascist Batman.

He hadn't actually seen the film.

I didn't really like The City and The City when I read it, but it's grown in my imagination. I love the concept. Perdido Street Station is immense.

I loved the Strugatsky's Roadside Picnic. It was all about the concept for me but the last 80 pages or so were finely written and constructed. I wanted more of the Zone (which is clearly part of the point: it is a motor of pure Desire after all).

I've started a collection of Nina Coltart's essays on psychoanalysis.

If you have the inclination, Fizzles, I'm intrigued by the idea of Miéville not 'listening to anything he says'...

75% through THE LAST SEPTEMBER. Much that's compelling about this novel, even as it dallies so blatantly in frivolity (that is, country-house manners and trivial upper-class talk).

I come back to the fact that the novel seems to hold together (or hold apart) two things: the frivolous or decadent social world (even whirl), and the menace of the War of Independence. It keeps both in mind throughout, even though most of the time it's only the former wondering about the latter. I suppose I'm impressed by a novel that can do the frivolity so naturally, while also being, in a way, politically and historically serious.

If you have the inclination, Fizzles, I'm intrigued by the idea of Miéville not 'listening to anything he says'...

― Vanishing Point (Chinaski), Saturday, 31 October 2020 11:05 bookmarkflaglink

i feel i just shouldn't talk about him, because people like his books, and i kind of feel i *should* like them, which makes me feel and act a bit jilted when i don't. hence my incoherence itt and also in the mieville thread (i will not be taking any questions on the statement 'can't creatively imagine for toffee'):

Is English not his first language?

Certain they're dictated. Some sentences in whatever that one I read before were just unbelievable, impossible to write for anyone from primary school level up (not even necessarily bad writing as such, just 'how could you write those words down next to each other? It was some sort of 'had, had had clusterfuck I think). I've read two of his now - The City and the City and that one... hang on, oh god - Embassytown, that was it. He's becoming a real grudge read. The thing is I want him to succeed at what he does - his approach appeals - but I swear he can't write or creatively imagine for toffee.

Feel I must be RONG about some stuff tho, cos plenty of clearly more or less good/sensible people like him. Feel slightly embattled and defensive about my dislike. Makes me touchy and incoherent about him.

― If you live in Thanet and fancy doing some creative knitting (Fizzles), Thursday, 5 July 2012 18:11 bookmarkflaglink

Going to finish The Jakarta Method today. While it has some minor structural issues, I believe that it should be taught in every high school in the US.

Fair enough, Fizzles - sometimes you have to trust your instincts with writers eh.

I loved Perdido Street Station and The Scar but with reservations with the latter (it collapsed under its own weight). The City and The City was conceptually glorious but clumsy at a plot and character level. I think the best thing I've read is a short story about disappearing streets in London, which is pure Borges and again, a lovely concept.

Fizzles: probably neither of us truly knows, but I would it is very, very unlikely that CM dictates his novels to a person who transcribes them (if that's what you meant).

[I would *say]

Fizzles: probably neither of us truly knows, but I would it is very, very unlikely that CM dictates his novels to a person who transcribes them (if that's what you meant).

So we'll put him on the list with R023rT Lxw*l% and my contribution:
Everybody draws the line somewhere---I had my fill of Stanley Crouch's personality and literary persona long ago, can't read any of the tributes either. Bye schmuck.

― dow, Saturday, October 10, 2020
Who else pushes your button ppl? Don't be shy.

Shut up and play your drums, Crouch.

Croz you know they got a hell of a band.

i liked perdido street station but also have no inclination to ever read anything else by him

i didn't like city and the city at all but embassytown and iron council are both excellent. he's pretty good at the idea-and-system part but a dire stylist. also his cornball borges devotion is detrimental to his work and kinda weird for a supposed leftist.

The one Mieville I tried - Kraken - was so pisspoor (like, sub-Pratchett pisspoor) that I haven't ventured further, though I understand that one is something of an outlier among his novels.

I have thoroughly given up on October, btw. Dry dry dry dry dry.

My book about grocery stores is predictably mediocre. The author appears to have sold the idea to his publisher, got a green light, then found out the subject matter was not only vast, but complex in its details, and that narrower segments of the subject had been covered in depth by better-focused books. But, since he had a contract and had fucked around for several years gathering material, he went ahead and wrote a scattershot, thinly researched book and handed it over.

Still, this book is about my speed until the election is clearly decided, which I fervently hope is long before the end of November. In 2000 it dragged on into December.

Yeah, narrower deeper coverage would def work better for that subject. I once saw C-Span testimony to a Congressional (sub?)committee about the personal experiences of those who pay for placement on shelves: one guy was covering a store (or department?) manager's child support and alimony for a while---but products can get shoved behind others anyway, or no longer displayed at all, for whatever reason: none of this was illegal, then or now either, probably; I haven't heard of any changes.
Music biz permutations too much for this thread, but I'm told that Frederick Dannen's Hit Men is a good read.

I have thoroughly given up on October, btw. Dry dry dry dry dry.

You did! And I thought I could plough through. Maybe another time! Will keep it on the unread shelves

I think I actually prefer the less typically Faulknerian, perhaps more commercial, stories from this Faulkner story collection to the Yoknaphatawpa county (sp?) stories that are often cited. They're just more fun. He had good range, and was competing against some very strong talent during the golden age of the commercial short story, at least in this country. The guy wrote a lot of books, I'm curious about all the less famous, post-Nobel novels.

You might like The Reivers. I did, but read it a long long time ago, and lingering impressions may be mixed with those of the movie---wiki article may eventually have spoilers, but here's the basic take:
he Reivers: A Reminiscence, published in 1962, is the last novel by the American author William Faulkner. The bestselling novel was awarded the Pulitzer Prize for Fiction in 1963. Faulkner previously won this award for his book A Fable, making him one of only four authors to be awarded it more than once. Unlike many of his earlier works, it is a straightforward narration and eschews the complicated literary techniques of his more well known works. It is a picaresque novel, and as such may seem uncharacteristically lighthearted given its subject matter. For these reasons, The Reivers is often ignored by Faulkner scholars or dismissed as a lesser work.

~Hi~

JUST FINISHED:
Moscow to the End of the Line - Venedikt Erofeev: A great movie has yet to be made from this book. I straight adaptation with no cuts would be phenomenal cinema. I never drink spirits, but I did buy a bottle of vodka to take me along the journey with Venya.
Blood Meridian - Cormac McCarthy: First McCarthy book. A bloody trip.
The Crucifixion - Fleming Rutledge: An unusual companion piece to Blood Meridian (actually, chronologically it was the other way around). Great book to kick the sunshiny new-agy optimism out of Christianity

Currently Reading:
I Am a Cat - Natsume Sōseki: Started this years ago. Picking up two kittens brothers in a week, seems like the best study prep for a new stage in life.
Being and Time - Martin Heidegger: This book is surprisingly mellowing me out. A very heavy dose of "what will be will be" in the heart of Heidegger's thought. A good dose of sovereignty for a crazy year.

Recently read 2 miserable bastard French novels back-to-back: Journey to the End of the Night and Atomised. I liked them, but their misanthropy rubbed off on me a little too much and put me in a foul mood for the few weeks I was reading them. Now reading Vineland. It feels like a welcome change of tone in comparison. I know it's considered lesser Pynchon, but I'm having fun with it so far. Not looking forward to the day when I have no new (to me) Pynchon to read. Saving the biggest ones for last with Mason & Dixon and Against the Day.

Began Nicole Brossard's 'Picture Theory' this morning, for the second time.. found myself entering it from a different perspective and being able to adjust to its oddness a lot more readily.

I can't imagine reading Céline right now. Or Heidegger for that matter.

I've resumed reading Barry Lopez's Arctic Dreams. I can't remember why but I put it down six months ago. I need the escape into the frozen north, even if it is littered with the bodies of muskoxen and Beluga whales.

You might like The Reivers

That one looks interesting. I'm also curious about "A Fable" a late novel set in the trenches of WWI. I liked the war stories by him I've read.

kind of an odd reading time for me -- i'm finding it hard to stick with anything. i did reread mary shelley's frankenstein for the first time since my teens. went right through it in a few nights. it's a very strange book, especially the periodic long stretches where victor f. just goes on vacation and describes the pretty scenery at length and seems to forget all about the terrifying results of his mad experiment, and this seems to happen for months and even years at a time. still pretty good, though! kinda tempted to look at some of shelley's other novels, which i know nothing about.

I really enjoyed The Last Man In Europe which starts as this big bustling future-historical steampunk pageant, romance and intrigue rippling into bloodwaves ov battle---then gradually it becomes like it says in the title and like what you're describing (which I won't spoil) Also liked a collection of shorter fiction, blanking on title, think it's from University of Nebraska Press. There's also this novella about a girl, maybe too smart for her own good, also in fraught relationship w her likewise father--kindle only, last time I checked, bundled with a story by her mother----here tis as stand-alone now (along w a whole lot more Mary now in the Kindle Store, which I hadn't seen all that):
...-unlike her first book, Frankenstein, written a year earlier, Mathilda uses fantasy to study a far more personal reality. It tells the story of a young woman whose mother died in her childbirth--just as Shelly's own mother died after hers--and whose relationship with her bereaved father becomes sexually charged as he conflates her with his lost wife, while she becomes involved with a handsome poet. Yet despite characters clearly based on herself, her father, and her husband, the narrator's emotional and relentlessly self-examining voice lifts the story beyond autobiographical resonance into something more transcendent: a driven tale of a brave woman's search for love, atonement, and redemption. It took more than a century before the manuscript Mary Shelley gave her father was rediscovered.
The stories tend to try to be more normwave Golden Age Victorian ladies' fiction, but still her, still pretty powerful in their way, best I remember.
Haven't read any other novels.

Might get around to this one:
THE FORTUNES OF PERKIN WARBECK is an historical novel concerning the life and exploits of Perkin Warbeck, a pretender to the throne of King Henry VII. In the novel, Warbeck claims to be Richard, Duke of York, the second son of King Edward IV who was unjustly imprisoned in the Tower of London.

The sections where he's chasing the monster around the Arctic are permanently embedded in my brain, God I love that book.

J.D., I agree, from (long-ago) memory that FRANKENSTEIN is not very much what one would expect it to be.

I started rereading Nella Larsen's PASSING.

been really enjoying janet malcolm’s the silent woman: sylvia plath and ted hughes. this in some senses is surprising, because i have never really had any interest in either (which is bad and incurious of me, tho i give myself more of a free pass in the case of hughes, whose poetry i’ve never been much taken with).

but this is a great and incisive description of among other things, the psychic challenges of biography, the relationship of the living to the dead, what it meant to be an american woman in the UK, depression, and the horrid escapes and traps of the self-defined romantic artist, and contains a truly malignant anti-creative character/force in the form of Olwyn Hughes, Ted’s sister.

A+ one of the best books i’ve read this year. a keeper.

does also make me want to revisit *some* of hughes’ poetry, and give plath another go.