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Another Snub
The New Yorker follows up its snub of 2666 with a dismissive capsule review of The Kindly Ones. (As a consolation of Littell, at least his book made it into the magazine.)
It actually is nice to see a publication like The New Yorker more or less ignoring books that it thinks don't deserve space, regardless of publicity. One wishes other publications of similar magnitude would do the same, rather than parcel out great tracts of faint (or uncomprehending) praise.
Also, in the case of The New Yorker, they cover such a small amount of new fiction to begin with that their snubs don't carry quite the bite that they might otherwise.
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Recommended Books DeLillo's major work before White Noise is probably his most underrated novel. Its all right here--the politics of paranoia, terrorism, the unnamable--set in an evocative, timeless Greece.
The most bizarre Abe novel I've yet read, which is indeed saying something. About a subclass of Japanese men who go around wearing boxes from the waist up (and then use them as domiciles in the evening), the book is also an experiment in perspective shifts, a highly unstable, metafictional first-person narrative, and an exploration of voyeurism, consumerism, and aberrant sexuality.
Charting the path to three gunshots--the one that killed filmmaker Theo Van Gogh, the one that disabled his Islamic extremist assassin, Mohammed Bouyeri, and the one that led to Vincent Van Gogh’s one hundred years earlier--Olsen tells three separate stories that resonate with one another on numerous levels: the logic of extremism, the role of the dissident in Dutch society, the limits of tolerance, the purpose of the artist, the feeling of the most important five minutes of your life. Read my interview with the author.
Creatively structured, well-executed epic novel of rural South Africa from 1950 - 2000. Takes on a lot and lives up to it magnificently. Highly recommended.
A book that's an interview about the book you're supposedly holding in your hands. Creative, potent, and full of life. Just what metafiction should be. Read my post on it.
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If anyone has noticed the New Yorker week after week has more and more pages without any advertisments. I not counting the house advs.
I wait every day to hear that I being offered a subscription to some other product.
It’s also sad. It’s coverage of the arts has sunk as low as you can go. They love Hollywood not the film side, Wall Street, no comment and review such book as child rearing. This week it Ponzi schemes, Roland Burris, yes that one, lacrosse and one big time? fiction writer.