Books of 2016 Part 4: 20-11
#Library
I’d never heard of this 'classic', but it was labelled
and categorised as such in my local library, and you know how impressionable I
am. At most times this is amusing and drole and at others just winding and somewhat
directionless. That said, there’s some really fascinating observations on the Meiji
restoration of Japan (which I half-heartedly studied in year 11 modern
history), and the infiltration of western culture onto traditional Japan. All
seen through the eyes of a cat!! Kind of. He just serves as a conduit to
omnipresence and even omniscience through certain contrivances (like "I
can read my master's thoughts, in case you were wondering why I knew how he was
feeling in that previous scene"), but also provides a device whereby
humanity at large can be critiqued from the outside. At times it let my
attention lapse but at others it’s quite hilarious. It’s definitely worth a
read, even if only for something completely different.
#BoughtToRead
It’s difficult to assess this with detachment, because
it's obviously the sort of thing I like, with Atwood and dystopian fiction.
That said, it was a long time between reading Oryx and Crake and this sequel, so the intertextual references were
difficult for me to get and appreciate, although things did come to mind
eventually (that 'Jimmy' is Snowman returned to me very late, but effectively
as a result). The story of Glenn/Crake kind of annoyed me though as I felt
there were details missing from this that should already have been filled in
but I don't remember, and I feel Atwood could potentially have done more to
fill in gaps (maybe even a giant Star
Wars marquee in the middle of the book). Anyway, all in all I feel the
characters here are somewhat shallow by contrast, and they exist just as
functions of the world. It's an interesting way to work a sequel because it's
taking her already created world and weaving new stories in it. I feel like the
creation of the world in Oryx and Crake
was part of its magic though which takes the edge off this. This is very
entertaining, and engaging though, as Atwood is nothing if not a fantastic
story-teller. And while I appreciate the further dissection of the theme of
humanity's propensity to self-destruct as a species, it's just a good
continuation of a previous masterpiece rather than a master work in its own
right.
#BoughtToRead
So I finally bit the bullet and bought this, after
having this specific book recommended to me by our AirBnB host Davis from New
York (and in the meantime reading two other Robbins novels). Robbins really does
have an imagination like no other; that is the defining characteristic of his
writing. But he's also demonstrably knowledgeable and intelligent, so sometimes
things that are otherwise so fanciful or ridiculous can seem plausible, which
was particularly the case in reading this. At times I wanted to look up
validity (particularly when he gets technical about scent and perfume
manufacture), but most of the time I just let myself ride. This does get bogged
down in details at times (and at others he deliberately alters the narrative so
as not to) but otherwise it’s all zany, fun and hilarious. Probably the book of
his with the largest scope, and the most intriguing questions at its heart.
Still, more than one Robbins a year I feel might be a slog. I did enjoy this
but it's a shitload to take in and even reflect on, despite his overall
quirkiness.
#Library
#ReadAllTheBestSellers? I picked this one up
randomly in the library with a reflection of ‘why not?’ This is a page turner,
of course. So much so, in fact, that even after the murderer is identified, and
'neutralised' (I’ll try to avoid spoilers, even though there are very few illiterate
dogs out there who haven't read this), I sat with my son asleep on me for an
hour enthralled by this instead of putting him in the bassinet. I do tend to
eschew page turners generally, just because I appreciate and am entertained by
books that challenge me mentally, and page turners by necessity don't. That
doesn't mean they're bad, and that is particularly true in cases like this
where they're intelligent in the way they construct a narrative. The fact is,
Larsson twists a very dark, winding tale, and it's surprising the nooks that
are concealed in it. Moreover, though the narrative centres around a murder
mystery, it's not the main point it wishes to make, which revolves more around
the systematic ignorance and/or blind acceptance of violence against women in
Swedish society - which brings us to the revenge-fantasy heroine of Lisbeth.
She's definitely an engaging character and can see why she can anchor a whole
bestselling trilogy. Still, I feel uncomfortable about how much her place in
the book is defined by her appearance, and how much of her way of relating to
people is sexual. It just brings up a little ambiguity which keeps her
interesting and enigmatic but also feels a bit reactionary. I'm sure more
qualified people than me have written more extensively on her. Also, BIG
SPOILER ALERT, but for such a tightly controlled narrative, an early plot point
really stood out to me as a hole rather than a thread to be twisted later: since
Harriet's sending flowers to Henrik was something she did alone and was
supposedly a secret between them, why would the continued sending of flowers
after her disappearance be assumed to be the murderer taunting Henrik? Why
would they have discussed her personal gift-giving before he/she slaughtered
Harriet? Surely Occam’s razor demands that Harriet is still alive? It just
bothered me that Mikael didn't ask this question of Henrik, but instead also started
down the garden path of suspected murder. It just felt like a big glaring clue,
that tried to and should have become part of
the big twist, but I feel it should have been made less obvious to begin with as
it felt really glaring.
#Library
From a contemporary page-turner to one of the
pioneers of the genre. This is a great bit of fun to read, even though I knew going
in ‘whodunnit’, not because I’d seen any film adaptations but because there’s a
joke in an episode of Cheers where
Frasier spoils a bunch of movie surprise endings. Knowing the ending, though,
doesn't ruin this by any stretch, as there's a lot of conceit and intrigue still
to come to terms with. At the same time, I can't help but feel like the
solution is one of those great "what if...?" moments, where in
reading it fresh suddenly everything clicks - like how I watched The Usual Suspects the first time and
wondered ‘what if Verbal IS Soze’, and it suddenly makes all the other
confusion make sense. Still, this book is highly formulaic, effectively you
could read the exposition and skip to the last chapter and all it does is
accelerate everything else. Still, the building of the suspense and the moral
conundrum makes for amusing, entertaining reading. Good fun.
#Library
I knew nothing at all about this book going in,
except for certain expectations from reading previous Steinbecks; this can have
various effects, from intrigue to astonishment. As I read this light-hearted
tale of the shenanigans of a ramshackle bunch of misfits, my thoughts - knowing
only that it was Steinbeck - ran constantly and unwaveringly along the lines of
"when are they going to get to the fireworks factory and be forced into
horrifying slave labor conditions where the six-year-old daughter has to eat
spoonfuls of gunpowder as penance for falling pregnant after being raped by her
uncle?". But no, in fact, I slowly learned during Poochie’s great
basketball tricks that the book is basically just 'wacky tales from the
fun-loving but occasionally misguided Cannery Row crew'. It's not to say that
Steinbeck doesn't throw in a few desperate suicides (mentioned in passing), and
some harsh truths here and there, but it was ultimately an easy and
entertaining read, big-hearted and at times whimsical. Had I entered with that
in mind, I would have enjoyed it as I did, but it wouldn't have seemed so odd. Basically
I was a hundred pages into a 200 page book before I realised it actually wasn't
going to be cruel and bleak. And while to me that’s generally a crushing blow
(“Torture and murder someone after having been driven mad by your own
mistreatment and attempted murder, hurry up!” I’ve been known to yell at books,
especially ones I’m reading to my son), this was actually surprisingly charming
and witty.
#Library
It’s kind of a surprise I picked this up, given how
nonplussed I was reading The Master and
Margarita. I guess its bite-sized length contributed greatly to my
willingness to give it a go, and I’m glad I did because I enjoyed this far more
than M&M. Largely because this
was more coherent to someone with scant knowledge of Russian society and
culture at the time. This is a neat little satire, which at first seems
effectively the exact same story as I Am
A Cat (with a stray dog taken into a home and observing the humans around
him) before taking a massively dark and unexpected sharp left turn. It then
raises a lot of interesting satirical questions about humanity, and humanity in
a communist state, with the focus on the character of a dog and how he
functions in society. Basically the satire, story and comedy are all just more
clearly and explicitly communicated to me so I feel like I enjoyed this as much
as people generally, or after acquainting themselves with the subject of its
satire, enjoy M&M. But ultimately
this was just a really interesting read.
#BoughtToRead
I bought this in the oddest place, a great little
used book shop run by a couple of cult missionaries in Tyalgum (go there if you
want to be indoctrinated) while we were holidaying in Byron Bay. I bought it
because I’m still ultimately interested in getting through Booker Prize winners
even though I didn’t set myself any sort of challenge this year. This is an unassuming,
subtle book that takes a while to give much away: a writer of tawdry romance is
taking an Autumn sojourn at a remote Swiss luxury hotel at the arse end of the
holiday season, and sees herself as an observer of the humans within the hotel.
Gradually we get the idea that her writing, her observing and her judgement of
humans are none of them up to scratch, and piece by piece we learn more about
her and her reasons for seeking solitude. This is a slow burn of a tragedy,
about men and women and the roles they expect each other to play, exploring as
well the varied perspectives on what constitutes romance, and whether it's a
positive thing or a negative. It did take a while to speak to me, but it spoke
to me very clearly as a story by the end.
#Library
There’s a quote on the cover of this book that
calls it “the best book you’ve never read” or “never heard of” or something,
but Bec had had this recommended so I thought I’d check it out. It’s a very
bold move to begin a book with a synopsis of the upcoming plot "this
unremarkable man lived an unremarkable life" and then start from the
beginning of his supposedly unremarkable life. But its unremarkable narrative
conceals some surprisingly profound truths. This bildungsroman concerns itself with a couple of themes – the life of
the mind, and the nature of love - that our protagonist stumbles across or
through during his – yes, unremarkable – life. I found a marked resemblance
between Stoner's relationship with his wife Edith and that of Of Human Bondage's (my number 4 book of
2015) protagonist Philip and his fixation on Mildred: you don't know what he
ever really saw in his wife, and when she starts acting crazy and irrational you
kind of lose sympathy with him for having been such an idiot. Still, there are
captivating passages of prose and it all builds to an ambivalent, bittersweet ending,
where Stoner’s unremarkableness is both questioned but also affectingly sad. It’s
a curious book for its unassuming nature, and one that isn't immediately
rewarding but invites reflection. I went on to accidentally recommend this for
our book group, but I can’t say the discussion really fulfilled my unscratched
itch to discuss it with someone, because the meeting happened after the itch
sort of went away and I couldn’t remember the book in as much depth as everyone
else. Despite its quietness there’s an ambivalent power to this book and I
haven’t really shaken it despite my mixed reaction.
#Library
Can’t remember what it was that made me pick up
this book, but I have a feeling I’ve seen it on online discussions, possibly
ones about ‘difficult’ books. And yes, this is very difficult prose, with long
sentences and no paragraphing so even when it’s at its most engaging it just
feels laborious. I can’t deny too that it probably loses a fair bit in
translation from Hungarian, even though the translation is very good. But it's
the kind of ambiguous, obtuse text where I feel there must be so much hidden
meaning that gets blurred or even lost completely through any kind of filter,
like a translator. The plot here is fairly threadbare but it’s idiosyncratic
and strange for all of that, and reminded me a lot of Gogol’s Dead Souls except far more elusive and
implicit. Basically it’s a very odd book, and it’s hard to really wrap my head
round it on first reaction. What it does apart from leave me a bit befuddled is
capturing a mood and a place very effectively; it's morose and claustrophobic,
and it's interspersed with really unexpected, so very effective dark humour. I
do enjoy, as you know (Hi, Mother), books that challenge my thinking and when
something is this murky and dense it’s always going to capture my attention
even if I don’t get it (like Burroughs’ Naked
Lunch does). I definitely want to read more Krasznahorkai, now if only just
to get a better grip on what this book is meant to be doing.
So teetering on the precipice of my top ten, naturally I'll leave y'all hanging and for my next post will count up my bottom 16 (51-66) books of the year.
posted by Sean's Beard at 4:28 PM
1 Comments:
Hello from an illiterate dog (see above). But you've got me to put Stoner on my reading list for 2017.
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