* One day the gods will reveal what we, the American reading public, have done to make them to inflict geniuses like this on our book sections
* Chad Post discusses the somewhat prohibitively expensive pricing of books in Argentina. Compared to other parts of Latin America, I don’t think the Argentine book buyer is that badly off, although I do agree that the costs probably do stifle some readers. For more on this topic, see my column about overly expensive books.
* Classical music criticism becomes the latest form of cultural critique to be designated unnecessary by newspapers
* Illinois: American translation powerhouse. (You’re not going to take this lying down, New York City, are you?)
* Chad Post becomes the latest reader to fall under Senselessness’s sway. I recently had the pleasure of speaking with Katherine Silver about her translation of this book, and I’m hoping I’ll find a venue interested in publishing some of the things she had to say about this incredible novel.
* Speaking of, for all you Senselessness fans out there, New Directions is planning to publish another of Moya’s books at some point
The received view is that Kavan’s later writing, her increasing tendency to represent the world as some threatening, scarcely comprehensible mechanism dedicated to the crushing of her characters’ hopes and longings, and the stylistic means adopted to these ends, had its source in traumatic events occurring around 1938-39: the collapse of her second marriage, mental breakdown, successive suicide attempts, discovery of Kafka. Her previous works, written under her first married name of Helen Ferguson, have been labelled – again by Rhys Davies – ‘home counties novels’. But it is far less straightforward than that.
Her first published book, A Charmed Circle (1929), opens with a chapter devoted to the external aspect of the vicarage in which the action will take place, describing how its rural isolation has, over the years, been encroached upon by ‘…mean streets that devoured the unresisting land. Fields were eaten away almost in a night. People went for their yearly holidays and returned four short weeks later to find the landscape strangely altered.’ This only lasts a page; but, by the time we have read it, we are already in the grip of a chilling objectivity whose fearfulness owes nothing to any invocation of the supernatural. Still more adventurous in style is her third book, Let Me Alone (1930); and this introduces us to a character called Anna Kavan.
But the aim of “Hammer & Tickle” is not just to be amusing and
poignant, but also to instruct. The author makes the (to him) rather
depressing discovery that most communist-era jokes were just recycled
versions of older ones. Take this example, which is told twice in the
book: a flock of sheep approaches the Finnish border in a panic,
pleading to be allowed entry. “Beria [Stalin’s secret police chief] has
ordered the arrest of all elephants,” they explain. “But you’re not
elephants,” reply the Finnish border guards in puzzlement. “Yes, but
try explaining that to Beria.” That sounds spot-on for the Soviet Union
in the 1930s. But it can be traced to a Persian poet in 12th-century
Arabia, where it involves a fox running away from a royal ordinance
that in theory applies only to donkeys.
His titanic novel A Book of Memories — which has been subsequently outweighed by his 1,500-page Parallel Stories,
finished in 1995 but not yet available in English — was written over a
period of more than ten years. Its dense and intricate plot unfolds at
mesmerizingly close range. Specific information tends to appear only
obliquely or incidentally; it takes some time for us to orient
ourselves and to understand that the narrator, whom we first encounter
in Berlin, is in love with a young man who has just disappeared,
presumably to the West, and that both of them are also emotionally
involved with a well-known actress. Sections of the book that deal with
this period of the narrator’s life alternate with sections about his
childhood in Stalinist Budapest. A second voice, that of a dissolute
aesthete and anarchist, who we come to realize is an invention of the
first narrator’s, braids itself between these settings, and toward the
end of the book, a third narrator — an important childhood friend of
the first — takes over for a while. . . .
Scrutiny is fundamental to the milieu Nadas portrays, where every
intimacy creates new ambiguities and new ground for betrayal, and
there’s no work I know that examines so atomically the composition of
an instant of experience — the interstices of that instant; at times
it’s miniaturization writ almost too large to take in.
* The NYRB has published its "Summer Fiction Issue," which means that they’ve actually covered a reasonable amount of fiction. Most of the good stuff is free online. They’ve even serialized fiction from Per Petterson, but you’ve got to pay for it.
O’Neill, that is, is working in a recognisably British mode of
novel-writing marked by a combination of decorous prose, lyrical
flights, well-carpentered plots and occasional injections of noirish
material (we learn in the first pages of Chuck’s handcuffed body being
retrieved from Brooklyn’s Gowanus Canal), and he wants to adapt this
mode – its exemplar is Ian McEwan – to the American soil of the book’s
themes or subject matter: multicultural brotherhood, immigrant
self-fashioning in the New World, post-9/11 New York. This compact
novel, in which an emotionally buttoned-down new arrival recounts the
downfall of another recent transplant who is, by contrast with him, an
extravagant dreamer, has won admiring comparisons to that most American
of novels, The Great Gatsby. Further associations between the
two books may be triggered by the fact that both narrators,
Fitzgerald’s Nick Carraway and O’Neill’s Hans, work in finance, the
former in bonds, the latter in oil futures.
* In his day, Dickens was the victim of imposters who wrote knockoffs of some of his best works. Kind of makes you question the reading abilities of the 19th-century British middle class.
* Apple fetishists can see what the new MacBook Pro is going to look like, via leaked images