The Unfortunate Traveler
Billy Collins
Because I was off to France, I packed
my camera along with my shaving kit,
some colorful boxer shorts, and a sweater with a zipper,
but every time I tried to take a picture
of a bridge, a famous plaza,
or the bronze equestrian statue of a general,
there was a woman standing in front of me
taking a picture of the very same thing,
or the odd pedestrian blocked my view,
someone or something always getting between me
and the flying buttress, the river boat,
a bright cafe awning, an unexpected pillar.
So into the little door of the lens
came not the kiosk or the altarpiece.
No fresco or baptistry slipped by the quick shutter.
Instead, my memories of that glorious summer
of my youth are awakened now,
like an ember fanned into brightness,
by a shoulder, the back of a raincoat,
a wide hat or towering hairdo--
lost time miraculously recovered
by the buttons on a gendarme's coat
and my favorite,
the palm of that vigilant guard at the Louvre.
-------This was quoted in the March 2012 issue of Smithsonian, that has a special insert on "The New Stars of Photography". Tomeu Coll, Jonathan Smith, Pilar Belmonte, and Farzana Wahidy are some of my favorites. Some seriously beautiful photography....
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Tuesday, March 27, 2012
Giveaway: The Coldest Night by Robert Olmstead
Thanks to the generous folks at Algonquin Books of Chapel Hill, I have a new hardback copy of The Coldest Night to give away here. It releases April 3, 2012, so that night I'll announce the winner and email them.
My review of the title will post on that day as well, but I've already heard alot of buzz about this literary fiction title that is described as "epic" by many.
To enter, leave a comment in the comment box telling me if the background red color on the blog now is cool, ugly, gorgeous, obnoxious, hurts your eyes, etc....AND with a way to contact you back if you win. US only, ends 4/3/12 9:00pm PACtime.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Monsieur Linh and His Child by Philippe Claudel
Translated from the French by Euan Cameron
“’I am your grandfather,’ Monsieur Linh tells her, ‘and we are together, there are two of us, the only two, the last two. But don’t be afraid, I am here, nothing can happen to you. I am old, but I’ll still have enough strength, as long as it is needed, as long as you are a little green mango in need of an old mango tree.’”
It’s on these walks that he finds the wood park bench described above, where he watches the city go by and tries to make sense of its foreign tongue. Soon he meets Monsieur Bark, another man beset by losses, and both find the bench to be their place to come to grips with their pasts and the uncertain future. They become virtually inseparable, despite the fact that neither of them can speak each other’s language. Theirs becomes a friendship made up of the language of nods, shared sighs, and companionship. And when difficult changes occur, this unique bond becomes unbreakable.
The author, Philippe Claudel, has crafted something that manages to combine melancholy and sentimentality without becoming mawkish. The writing is lean and powerful and each character retains a mystery. The mystery is what pushes you on to understand how each man will survive their loss, and how mysterious the nature of friendship can be. The novel asks the reader to examine what makes two people feel connected. Does loss leave a mark that only another kindred spirit can discern? Do the words we speak mean less than who we are? I couldn’t help but think that the story would be entirely different if the two men did share a language, and that Claudel may be commenting on how, very often, words can get in the way.
Special thanks to Paul Engels of MacLehose/Quercus in the UK for the review copy.
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Kornel Esti by Dezso Kosztolanyi (link to review)
http://www.rochester.edu/College/translation/threepercent/index.php?id=3868
Nominated for BTBA this year, the link goes to the review at Open Letter/Three Percent where they are running a series focusing on each title.
Translated from the Hungarian.
Nominated for BTBA this year, the link goes to the review at Open Letter/Three Percent where they are running a series focusing on each title.
Translated from the Hungarian.
Friday, March 16, 2012
BabyLit: Jane Eyre and Alice in Wonderland, Jennifer Adams and Alison Oliver
So, this is totally not my blog's typical content, but seriously...these are too adorable not to mention. Could there be Russian book added to the line?
Board books! This is a new series called BabyLit. The Jane Eyre is my favorite (that cape!), but both are really neat. Heavy-duty stock makes them indestructable and the colors are much more vintage and cool than typical kid colors. Jane Eyre is for counting, Alice is for colors. How about a Kafka bug one? War and Peace with veggies (peas!)? Can't wait to see the series continue. I've heard there is a Romeo and Juliet board book, possibly it could be a family first aid guide in board book format?
They are published by Gibbs-Smith, but I think the review copies were sent to me by Eric at Quirk.
They are published by Gibbs-Smith, but I think the review copies were sent to me by Eric at Quirk.
Thursday, March 15, 2012
A History of Russian Literary Theory and Criticism, Dobrenko & Tihanov
First off, this is not Russian "lite"...this is a scholarly work from the Pitt Series in Russian and East European Studies, well-known for their focused publications on Russian history. The focus of this reference work is "the Soviet Age and Beyond", and it covers well-known literary figures as well as a few unknowns.
My favorite chapter had to do with the experience of Russian emigrants into other nations between WWI and WWII. Since most of the intelligentsia had to leave or be exterminated, an entirely new form of Russian writing, from outside of Russia, began to exist. This presents two issues that editors Evgeny Dobrenko and Galin Tihanov address. One is how their substitute home, a "host culture" as they say, contributed to their writing in scope and subject matter. The remaining issue is what about the writers who did not leave during this time: how were they affected by the works of their comparatively free peers as the emigre writing became accessible in Soviet Russia? French culture had an enormous contribution to the emigrant writings, as many were handled by Parisian publishing houses.
"Emigre writing was increasingly interpreted as flight from symbolism, toward realism", and the editors designate Ivan Bunin as an example of this "resilient emigre". But from there the subject gets even trickier, as the function of writing literary criticism about emigre works became "little more than a weapon in settling domestic scores." This goes into length in examining the nature of the literary criticism by who was writing it: critics were influenced by political allies and personal friendships, and subject to both financial incentives and self-promotion.
In another direction, the editors discuss the events resulting from Alexander Solzhenitsyn's Fourth Congress of the Union of Soviet Writers in 1967 where he demanded an end to censorship and was supported by many other writers. This was late in the period known as "the Thaw", a significant and turbulent time in Russian literary criticism. During the Thaw, two forms of definitive Soviet literature appeared, "village prose and war prose". Additionally, this was the time period in which the government went after Boris Pasternak, "aimed at his novel Doctor Zhivago, which had won him the Novel Prize." The time period was rife with attempts to divide writers by designating who had supported the people and who had been known to "stir up" the political situation, and the result is described in detail, showing how the entire face of Russian literature changed during the time. Repressed writers were able to develop their works, while other writers were returning home to Russia different from when they had left. But since writing is the tool that can unite as well as divide, political ideology factored heavily in the work during this period.
On what appears to be a lighter note (although deeply significant) is the explanation of the reception of the scandalous Strolls with Pushkin, a work by Andrei Sinyavsky that had many worked up as it was considered vulgar. However, dissing Pushkin in any way is akin to sacrilege, and Solzhenitsyn rips apart Sinyavsky for his treatment of Pushkin in what should have been enlightened times: "could we have naturally expected that the new criticism, barely freed from the unbearable repression of Soviet censorship, that the first thing for which it would employ its freedom would be a strike against Pushkin?" (from an article by D. Galkovskii quoted in the book).
All the big names of Russian literature are here, in ways not often explained in Western press. I had no idea that one critic considered Nabokov, Sorokin, Tertz and my beloved Vasilii Grossman as "the virus of Russophobia." And I think that is what makes this collection of essays so interesting: it's not so much biographical sketches that we see but the back-room politics of literary criticism in a super-heated environment where classic authors are revered or dismissed, per whatever political ideology is in place. So I don't suggest this as a collection of Russian literature per se, but an inside view of the process of publication of Russian literature.
"Emigre writing was increasingly interpreted as flight from symbolism, toward realism", and the editors designate Ivan Bunin as an example of this "resilient emigre". But from there the subject gets even trickier, as the function of writing literary criticism about emigre works became "little more than a weapon in settling domestic scores." This goes into length in examining the nature of the literary criticism by who was writing it: critics were influenced by political allies and personal friendships, and subject to both financial incentives and self-promotion.
In another direction, the editors discuss the events resulting from Alexander Solzhenitsyn's Fourth Congress of the Union of Soviet Writers in 1967 where he demanded an end to censorship and was supported by many other writers. This was late in the period known as "the Thaw", a significant and turbulent time in Russian literary criticism. During the Thaw, two forms of definitive Soviet literature appeared, "village prose and war prose". Additionally, this was the time period in which the government went after Boris Pasternak, "aimed at his novel Doctor Zhivago, which had won him the Novel Prize." The time period was rife with attempts to divide writers by designating who had supported the people and who had been known to "stir up" the political situation, and the result is described in detail, showing how the entire face of Russian literature changed during the time. Repressed writers were able to develop their works, while other writers were returning home to Russia different from when they had left. But since writing is the tool that can unite as well as divide, political ideology factored heavily in the work during this period.
On what appears to be a lighter note (although deeply significant) is the explanation of the reception of the scandalous Strolls with Pushkin, a work by Andrei Sinyavsky that had many worked up as it was considered vulgar. However, dissing Pushkin in any way is akin to sacrilege, and Solzhenitsyn rips apart Sinyavsky for his treatment of Pushkin in what should have been enlightened times: "could we have naturally expected that the new criticism, barely freed from the unbearable repression of Soviet censorship, that the first thing for which it would employ its freedom would be a strike against Pushkin?" (from an article by D. Galkovskii quoted in the book).
All the big names of Russian literature are here, in ways not often explained in Western press. I had no idea that one critic considered Nabokov, Sorokin, Tertz and my beloved Vasilii Grossman as "the virus of Russophobia." And I think that is what makes this collection of essays so interesting: it's not so much biographical sketches that we see but the back-room politics of literary criticism in a super-heated environment where classic authors are revered or dismissed, per whatever political ideology is in place. So I don't suggest this as a collection of Russian literature per se, but an inside view of the process of publication of Russian literature.
Special thanks to Maria Sticco of University of Pittsburgh Press for the Review Copy.
Tuesday, March 13, 2012
Stone Upon Stone by Wieslaw Mysliwski (link to review)
One of the longlist titles for Best Translated Book Award and why it should win---My review is at:
http://www.rochester.edu/College/translation/threepercent/index.php?id=3856. Open Letter is going to profile each of the titles nominated.
Sunday, March 11, 2012
The Sickness by Alberto Barrera Tyszka
Reprinted review: this title is now released in the US so I'm posting the review again...this is a "don't miss" title.
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Translated from the Spanish by Margaret Jull Costa
"Tears are very unliterary: they have no form."
This is possibly the most dog-eared book I've ever had. Folding down corners is my method for marking significant (to me) passages, but it clearly wasn't working with this fiction novel because I was marking every page. I'd never read this Venezuelan author before, but I hope to find more of his work translated into English.
Delicate prose, deep moral questions, and a stunning pace are what kept me hooked into reading this in one sitting. The story itself is rather simple: a successful doctor discovers that his father is seriously ill. Their close relationship is strained as the son weighs the consequences of telling his father the details of his illness. In the meantime, another man, virtually unknown to the doctor, begins stalking him, imagining that he holds the cure for the the list of complaints he suffers from. There's a push and pull to the narrative, as the poignant moments between father and son,nuanced with shared memories of grief, intertwine with the creepy certainty of the stalker.
Because of the health issues that permeate the novel, questions about the nature of health and wellness are explored, but in a brief, compelling way. The author cites quotes of famous authors, ethicists and physicians, but he's not showing off, they are actually appropriate observations of how the human body deals with illness. These asides never go too long or feel like a lecture, they fit the material in the most uncanny way.
For example, Tyszka quotes Julio Ramon Ribeyro, who provides possibly the best explanation for the euphoria that exists after an episode of physical pain:
"Physical pain is the great regulator of our passions and ambitions. Its presence immediately neutralizes all other desires apart from the desire for the pain to go away. This life that we reject because it seems to us boring, unfair, mediocre or absurd suddenly seems priceless: we accept it as it is, with all its defects, as long as it doesn't present itself to us in its vilest form - pain."
Tsyzka presents simple scenes with insightful observation. On trying to read the face of a doctor while awaiting possibly bad news:
"It's the illustration that accompanies a bad diagnosis, the first installment of an expression of condolence."
On imagining his father's worries:
"Are the monsters of old age as terrible as those that assail us when we're children? What do you dream about when you're sixty-nine? ....Perhaps this is what his father dreams about: he's in a laboratory, in the bowels of a hospital, surrounded by chemicals, sharp implements, gauze, and strangers all repellently dressed in white...."
Events proceed in unexpected ways, and as a reader, you never quite know what direction you're being pulled in. You feel empathy and disgust in altering passages, and the underlying fear is riveting. I did find the ending a bit confusing...I still am not sure I've understood all the implications laid out.
One scene confounds me: It takes place on a ferry, where an obnoxious businessman makes a production of his 'importance' and maltreats his seemingly intelligent and kind wife, all the way to the point of beating her to the ground. I'm not sure what the symbolism is, although I know it's present in that scene. Is Tyszka trying to say that people are subject to humiliation, by oppression or illness, no matter how virtuous they are?
In full, this is easily going to be in my list of favorites for the year. While the subject revolves around illness, it never quite defines which 'illness' is being addressed: is it disease? regret? evil? The questions are posed, and only each individual reader can answer.
Special thanks to Paul Engels of Maclehose Press, London, for the Review Copy.
This book has now been released by Tin House in the US. It can be purchased at online retailers and at http://www.tinhouse.com/books/fiction-poetry.html.
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Translated from the Spanish by Margaret Jull Costa
"Tears are very unliterary: they have no form."
This is possibly the most dog-eared book I've ever had. Folding down corners is my method for marking significant (to me) passages, but it clearly wasn't working with this fiction novel because I was marking every page. I'd never read this Venezuelan author before, but I hope to find more of his work translated into English.
 |
| Tin House's cover |
Delicate prose, deep moral questions, and a stunning pace are what kept me hooked into reading this in one sitting. The story itself is rather simple: a successful doctor discovers that his father is seriously ill. Their close relationship is strained as the son weighs the consequences of telling his father the details of his illness. In the meantime, another man, virtually unknown to the doctor, begins stalking him, imagining that he holds the cure for the the list of complaints he suffers from. There's a push and pull to the narrative, as the poignant moments between father and son,nuanced with shared memories of grief, intertwine with the creepy certainty of the stalker.
Because of the health issues that permeate the novel, questions about the nature of health and wellness are explored, but in a brief, compelling way. The author cites quotes of famous authors, ethicists and physicians, but he's not showing off, they are actually appropriate observations of how the human body deals with illness. These asides never go too long or feel like a lecture, they fit the material in the most uncanny way.
For example, Tyszka quotes Julio Ramon Ribeyro, who provides possibly the best explanation for the euphoria that exists after an episode of physical pain:
"Physical pain is the great regulator of our passions and ambitions. Its presence immediately neutralizes all other desires apart from the desire for the pain to go away. This life that we reject because it seems to us boring, unfair, mediocre or absurd suddenly seems priceless: we accept it as it is, with all its defects, as long as it doesn't present itself to us in its vilest form - pain."
Tsyzka presents simple scenes with insightful observation. On trying to read the face of a doctor while awaiting possibly bad news:
"It's the illustration that accompanies a bad diagnosis, the first installment of an expression of condolence."
On imagining his father's worries:
"Are the monsters of old age as terrible as those that assail us when we're children? What do you dream about when you're sixty-nine? ....Perhaps this is what his father dreams about: he's in a laboratory, in the bowels of a hospital, surrounded by chemicals, sharp implements, gauze, and strangers all repellently dressed in white...."
Events proceed in unexpected ways, and as a reader, you never quite know what direction you're being pulled in. You feel empathy and disgust in altering passages, and the underlying fear is riveting. I did find the ending a bit confusing...I still am not sure I've understood all the implications laid out.
In full, this is easily going to be in my list of favorites for the year. While the subject revolves around illness, it never quite defines which 'illness' is being addressed: is it disease? regret? evil? The questions are posed, and only each individual reader can answer.
Special thanks to Paul Engels of Maclehose Press, London, for the Review Copy.
This book has now been released by Tin House in the US. It can be purchased at online retailers and at http://www.tinhouse.com/books/fiction-poetry.html.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
The Brothers by Asko Sahlberg
Translated from the Finnish by Emily Jeremiah and Fleur Jeremiah
"I sensed that motherhood was terrible, perhaps sweet at times, but above all terrible. Not because one human child would be more horrendous than another, nor is it so that offspring cannot bring joy when little and be useful when grown up, but because motherhood makes it possible for future generations to be rocked by dark tragedies."
The Old Mistress in this snowy and tense Finnish tale reflects on her early impressions of motherhood, and what sort of legacy her two sons would be for her. It's right that she worries, for she is desperately miserable in her desolate forest home, where she has to deal with "people whose speech tells you they have rough palms" as well as a sickly husband. Added to this, she has furtive servants and two wildly opposing boys, Erik and Henrik.
Erik and Henrik are introduced as quarrelsome boys who end up on opposite sides during the war between Sweden and Russia (this takes place in 1809). (See footnote) Neither character is fully exposed, so the tension between the two is immediately apparent while the meaning behind it is delayed. As the plot twists, the reader can see that this was intended...for the reader is given no easy clues to unravel the family's drama.
"...for a time I was able to watch the boys grow up with at least distant pride. But boys are fated to grow into men, and a mother has to follow this tragedy as a silent bystander. And now it seems they will kill each other, and then this, too, can be added to my never-ending list of losses."
The character of their mother, the Old Mistress, is one of the most powerful female characters to be found in modern fiction: she has no saving grace that makes her likable or even necessary. Her anger and rage doesn't make her a stereotypical obstacle: rather, she intrigues the reader and pulls out an interest in her that detracts a bit from the animosity between the boys. And author Sahlberg makes her a key to the plot-- a veritable loose cannon as the plot proceeds.
"I took up the habit of moving all the yesterdays and tomorrows discreetly to one side. I have never deceived myself in this respect: I gulp down spirits like a sailor".
Along with the Old Mistress, other characters speak in the first person voice, including both boys. But while the world orbits between their opposite poles, another character begins to invade the literal and figurative world of the desolate farm. This outsider quietly alters the lives of everyone involved, and controls the plot to its remarkable ending.
Several details of note: the subtle writing definitely follows the rule of "show, don't tell". Broken veins on the cheeks of a character are a detail not elaborated on, yet critically important. Scenes between silent characters are so detailed that even without the dialogue, one reads an entire conversation. These kind of details made me wish I could go back and read it again, slower, to catch the amazing writing that can capture so many variants of meaning with the same words, even the same characters, at different times. This subtlety seems to mirror the cold, snowy landscape.
I have to confess, I searched a thesaurus to find other ways to say 'tension' and 'subtle'! I really can't emphasize the taut and bare style of the work enough without saying "tension" repeatedly. So, let me just throw it out there: tension. Everywhere.
"I sensed that motherhood was terrible, perhaps sweet at times, but above all terrible. Not because one human child would be more horrendous than another, nor is it so that offspring cannot bring joy when little and be useful when grown up, but because motherhood makes it possible for future generations to be rocked by dark tragedies."
Erik and Henrik are introduced as quarrelsome boys who end up on opposite sides during the war between Sweden and Russia (this takes place in 1809). (See footnote) Neither character is fully exposed, so the tension between the two is immediately apparent while the meaning behind it is delayed. As the plot twists, the reader can see that this was intended...for the reader is given no easy clues to unravel the family's drama.
"...for a time I was able to watch the boys grow up with at least distant pride. But boys are fated to grow into men, and a mother has to follow this tragedy as a silent bystander. And now it seems they will kill each other, and then this, too, can be added to my never-ending list of losses."
The character of their mother, the Old Mistress, is one of the most powerful female characters to be found in modern fiction: she has no saving grace that makes her likable or even necessary. Her anger and rage doesn't make her a stereotypical obstacle: rather, she intrigues the reader and pulls out an interest in her that detracts a bit from the animosity between the boys. And author Sahlberg makes her a key to the plot-- a veritable loose cannon as the plot proceeds.
"I took up the habit of moving all the yesterdays and tomorrows discreetly to one side. I have never deceived myself in this respect: I gulp down spirits like a sailor".
Along with the Old Mistress, other characters speak in the first person voice, including both boys. But while the world orbits between their opposite poles, another character begins to invade the literal and figurative world of the desolate farm. This outsider quietly alters the lives of everyone involved, and controls the plot to its remarkable ending.
I have to confess, I searched a thesaurus to find other ways to say 'tension' and 'subtle'! I really can't emphasize the taut and bare style of the work enough without saying "tension" repeatedly. So, let me just throw it out there: tension. Everywhere.
Special thanks to Meike Ziervogel of Peirene Press for the Review Copy.
The details of this war are fascinating (Napolean's in it) and this link details the events of the time as well as some rather ironic problems with uniforms for both sides (someone had the brilliant idea to experiment with changing colors and styles!). An excellent background to the story:
Monday, March 5, 2012
Book Babble and Related Chatter....
- Some new reading ideas: working on Roger Hall's West of the West see it here for a class, and it mentions two old books on California history that look fascinating: Bayard Taylor's El Dorado (here) and Frank Norris' The Octopus: A Story of California (here) both look great. Norris' book deals with the Mussel Slough shootings back in 1880.
- Going to Yosemite last week was a treat, and of course, I had to get some books as souvenirs. John Muir's adventures are collected in The Wild Muir (here) in a paperback suitable for reading aloud to a preschooler but still interesting enough for an adult.
- I never realized the Yosemite Falls is one of the five tallest waterfalls in the world, so I took tons of pictures, and am now craving a trip to Norway to see more of the giants. As a kid, at Yosemite all I did was want to swim in the pool, as an adult I wanted to stare at the waterfalls. I could see the falls from my lodge room, and they are seriously hypnotizing.
- Did two hikes with my little guy, who was quite a trooper, but I got a bit frightened in the Mirror Lake hike. It was so incredibly desolate, no people for hours, that I swore I could hear banjo music. The signs warning of Mountain Lion attacks didn't help either. We returned safely but still....they say mountain lions can sense fear! New beer to overcome fear: Mammoth Double Nut Ale!
- Take note, if your little boy's first train ride involves the train hitting and dragging someone, it sets a tone for the trip....
- Does anyone else drool over Levenger's catalog and website? Book porn? I'd gladly take one of everything on their site, but especially this...any color, I'm flexible. Seriously....love it!
- LUTHER is back on BBC with more episodes (!!!). In the interim, we were searching for some British crime shows only to come across the Inspector Lynley series (written by American Elizabeth George). These books just don't translate well to film, and give new meaning to the term "cheeky".
- More book sculptures appearing in Scotland libraries...Google the series, they are amazing!
- Peter Geye has a new book in the works called The Lighthouse Road....can't wait to read it! His first book Safe from the Sea is in my lifetime top ten!
- I reviewed Kurkov's Death and the Penguin from Melville House for Rain Taxi awhile back, and I'm eager to start Penguin Lost (the sequel). But mosey on over to Lizok's blog to see her review and how she presents the idea that Soviets are like Penguins (she didn't say it, someone else did, but check out her post http://lizoksbooks.blogspot.com/2012/03/misc-awards-news-for-early-march.html?utm_source=feedburner&utm_medium=feed&utm_campaign=Feed%3A+LizoksBookshelf+%28Lizok%27s+Bookshelf%29&utm_content=Google+Feedfetcher)
- Someone special, a certain cameraperson in WeHo, has alerted a few of us to the music of Mumiy Troll, a Russian band that seems to blend a bit of Wolfgang Phoenix with Spandau Ballet. Check it out here: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V7iCZQgK0SQ And always remember, don't ask the guy hanging around the band if they are any good. He MAY be the lead singer. Ouch!
- Amazing images, both photographic and collage at http://imprint.printmag.com/iotd/image-of-the-day-archive-april-2011/. Note this one above!
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| Lowest third of the Falls |
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| copyright Janeen Rewell |
- Just discovered "American Cone", the Stephen Colbert flavor of Ben & Jerrys. Much better than the Jimmy Fallon "Late Night Snack". I asked my sons if they knew if there was a Ben & Jerrys flavor of my beloved Pearl Jam. They said it would have to be a Merlot-American Cheese flavor: bitter, whiny, and cheesy. Brats! They can't grasp the art...and they listen to Katy Perry. Ick.
- Poor Indiana Jones...can't get tenure (bad news for Indy)
- My baby baby is five. FIVE! The year of kindergarten and more swim lessons. Where did the time go?
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| Baby and my Dad en route to Yosemite! |
Friday, March 2, 2012
The Meowmorphosis by Franz Kaka & Coleridge Cook
This is the first literary “mash-up” I’ve ever read…a newish format that combines classic texts with a modern twist. Quirk Classics have produced these, and Pride and Prejudice and Zombies and Android Karenina were early successes. I was a little hesitant at first, having found Kafka’s The Metamorphosis so intriguing.
In this mash-up, the anonymous writer “Coleridge Cook” twists Kafka’s tale of a man waking up to find himself as a bug into a tamer form: he wakes as an adorable kitten instead. Gregor as a cat experiences the same sort of issues as Gregor the bug, except that he’s more inclined to nap than scuttle around under furniture.
Staying fairly true to Kafka’s outline, it really does change the way you react to the scenes. It makes it wickedly funny to see his family react with such outrage and fear to what should be normal: a fat and lazy housecat. In this retelling, aside from his irresistible urge to sleep, Gregor does get out and has a run-in with some other cats. This ties into another Kafka story, The Trial, which I haven’t read but with which Cook is clearly familiar. I think I lost a bit of meaning here because I could sense that the names and actions of the other cats is important to understanding this version. My friend Lisa Hayden discusses the important relevance between The Trial and Kafka himself in her review of the book and read her explanation of the connection between both Kafka books at her blog. She’s smart like that!
"...which all led to the conclusion that for the time being he would have to keep calm and --with patience and the greatest consideration for his family--tolerate the troubles that in his present condition he was now forced to cause them."
"He had never acted according to his desires alone, but only according to the dicta of his kin, his duty, and that great filial ledger that ruled his life....That difference of spirit he had always felt on the inside was now evident on the outside..."
Now if you’ve never read The Metamorphosis, I think you’d enjoy this version for its play on images. Having read it recently, however, made me feel that the overall take from the story is just too different to get the same meaning as Kafka intended. For all of his images of absurdity with the bug, the idea of a man waking to find himself a horrifying insect was not the point of The Metamorphosis. What I took from it was more how absurd his family reacted and raised the question of why Gregor had put up with their dependence long before he turned into a bug. In this, the question is still there—but the cat contrast distracts a bit from the actual horror of his family situation.
I think this would be an excellent way to introduce someone to Kafka’s work, and since you can hardly find a book that isn’t described as “Kafkaesque” these days, it might be a good way start, as the majority of it stays very close to Kafka's telling. The illustrations are a fun addition as well...who doesn't love a cat?
In this mash-up, the anonymous writer “Coleridge Cook” twists Kafka’s tale of a man waking up to find himself as a bug into a tamer form: he wakes as an adorable kitten instead. Gregor as a cat experiences the same sort of issues as Gregor the bug, except that he’s more inclined to nap than scuttle around under furniture.
Staying fairly true to Kafka’s outline, it really does change the way you react to the scenes. It makes it wickedly funny to see his family react with such outrage and fear to what should be normal: a fat and lazy housecat. In this retelling, aside from his irresistible urge to sleep, Gregor does get out and has a run-in with some other cats. This ties into another Kafka story, The Trial, which I haven’t read but with which Cook is clearly familiar. I think I lost a bit of meaning here because I could sense that the names and actions of the other cats is important to understanding this version. My friend Lisa Hayden discusses the important relevance between The Trial and Kafka himself in her review of the book and read her explanation of the connection between both Kafka books at her blog. She’s smart like that!
"...which all led to the conclusion that for the time being he would have to keep calm and --with patience and the greatest consideration for his family--tolerate the troubles that in his present condition he was now forced to cause them."
"He had never acted according to his desires alone, but only according to the dicta of his kin, his duty, and that great filial ledger that ruled his life....That difference of spirit he had always felt on the inside was now evident on the outside..."
Now if you’ve never read The Metamorphosis, I think you’d enjoy this version for its play on images. Having read it recently, however, made me feel that the overall take from the story is just too different to get the same meaning as Kafka intended. For all of his images of absurdity with the bug, the idea of a man waking to find himself a horrifying insect was not the point of The Metamorphosis. What I took from it was more how absurd his family reacted and raised the question of why Gregor had put up with their dependence long before he turned into a bug. In this, the question is still there—but the cat contrast distracts a bit from the actual horror of his family situation.
I think this would be an excellent way to introduce someone to Kafka’s work, and since you can hardly find a book that isn’t described as “Kafkaesque” these days, it might be a good way start, as the majority of it stays very close to Kafka's telling. The illustrations are a fun addition as well...who doesn't love a cat?
Special thanks to Eric at Quirk Classics for the Review Copy.
Also, their website has some great interactive toys if you are interested in more mash-ups.
Tuesday, February 28, 2012
I Hadn't Understood by Diego De Silva
The fact is that I’m an inconsistent narrator…I’m too interested in incidental considerations that can take you off track. When I tell a story, it’s like watching someone rummage through the drawer where they keep their receipts and records.
All this is just another way of saying my thoughts don’t seem to grip the road, they tend to skid and drift.
So explains Vincenzo Malinconico, the Italian lawyer who becomes one of the most lovable protagonists I’ve ever encountered in this story by Diego De Silva. On the surface, it is the story of a lawyer strong-armed into defending a low-level criminal backed by a dubious source, while at the same time dealing with the aftermath of a painful marital split. But, while the plot is fast and furious, the real draw is the character of Vincenzo. Hearing a character’s inner monologue can really be a risk, as it can veer into boring pretty quickly. But in this case, you really just want to hear him talk.
And talk he does! At times using lists and bullet points, his mind races around analyzing everything. He does a two-page riff on Camorra interior décor, to the point I had to grab Kleenex from laughing so hard. (If you have a fuschia and marble living room, you may find his observations uncomfortable). Another phenomena that Vincenzo investigates with wit and insight is the way some people talk in public, raising their voices so their imagined audience can see how cynical and world-weary they are. He manages to capture the insecurity that's revealed in the gestures and chatter of those desperately hoping that someone finds them fascinating. Edgy and fast-paced, the scenes that take place in the courthouse have some of the best dialogue I've read.
The thing that is so unique is that while he pokes fun at others constantly (but most of all himself), he's never really mean or nasty. That would get tedious after awhile. Instead of arrogance, it's with acceptance that he realizes just about everyone he knows is a jerk in some way or another, including himself, so he doesn't seem to take any of it too seriously.
At another point he tries to understand the difference between perception and actuality:
“The thing is that reality mumbles. It expresses itself in incomplete sentences. And the translations that circulate are terrible, done by incompetents. Riddled with misreading, typos, entire lines missing. I make imperfect translations in an effort to get by until, one fine morning, I meet reality in the street –nonchalant, understated, never vulgar – and I stand there, rooted to the spot, staring as she passes me by and vanishes…”
At one point, he discovers he’s being followed. Vincenzo has to look at his options.
“In these cases, in fact, the first thing you do when you’re out walking is to slow down, take a deep breath and square your shoulders, as if somehow you feel incredibly interesting all of a sudden.
Obviously in your case this is all just a farce, because if you really did think that a criminal was following you in order to rob you or settle some account that you know nothing about, at the very least you’d start running like a sewer rat or you’d scream for help in the general direction of the first policeman, traffic cop, or mailman (anything wearing a uniform, in other words) you happen to see; I very much doubt you’d waste time acting like the poor man’s James Bond.”
Vincenzo obsesses about his luxury furniture, fights with his wife’s new man at an airport Burger King, and tries to learn all the case law he’s forgotten while still managing to catch the eye of the courthouse’s loveliest lawyer. Even that mystifies him, as he tries to figure out what she seems in him. The lyrics to Gilbert O'Sullivan's Alone Again (Naturally) get a complete dissection that will alter all previous associations to the song, as "You nod along to the tempo and then shudder in horror at the end of each verse." Small and annoying dogs get a few pages in too, and while almost universally despised, he manages to freshly capture what it is that makes us hate them so much.
Vincenzo is a fresh character --reflective and thoughtful without sinking into self-absorption. A fun read.
Special thanks to Europa Editions for the Advance Review Copy.
This title releases in the US on February 28, 2012.
Best Translated Book Awards Longlist
Chad Post and Open Letter released the longlist for the Best Translated Book Awards. Since many are from the Eastern European and Russian regions, as well as the Mediterranean, I thought readers could post which ones you've read or purchased, as well as thoughts. Anyone?
Leeches by David Albahari
Translated from the Serbian by Ellen Elias-Bursać
(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
My review: http://www.theblacksheepdances.com/2011/06/leeches-by-david-albahari-serbian.html
My Two Worlds by Sergio Chejfec
Translated from the Spanish by Margaret B. Carson
(Open Letter)
Demolishing Nisard by Eric Chevillard
Translated from the French by Jordan Stump
(Dalkey Archive Press)
Private Property by Paule Constant
Translated from the French by Margot Miller and France Grenaudier-Klijn
(University of Nebraska Press)
Lightning by Jean Echenoz
Translated from the French by Linda Coverdale
(New Press)
Zone by Mathias Énard***
Translated from the French by Charlotte Mandell
(Open Letter)
Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You in All the Confusion? by Johan Harstad
Translated from the Norwegian by Deborah Dawkin
(Seven Stories)
Upstaged by Jacques Jouet
Translated from the French by Leland de la Durantaye
(Dalkey Archive Press)
Fiasco by Imre Kertész***
Translated from the Hungarian by Tim Wilkinson
(Melville House)
Montecore by Jonas Hassen Khemiri
Translated from the Swedish by Rachel Willson-Broyles
(Knopf)
Kornél Esti by Dezső Kosztolányi***
Translated from the Hungarian by Bernard Adams
(New Directions)
I Am a Japanese Writer by Dany Laferrière
Translated from the French by David Homel
(Douglas & MacIntyre)
Suicide by Edouard Levé
Translated from the French by Jan Steyn
(Dalkey Archive Press)
New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani
Translated from the Italian by Judith Landry
(Dedalus)
Purgatory by Tomás Eloy MartÃnez
Translated from the Spanish by Frank Wynne
(Bloomsbury)
Stone Upon Stone by Wiesław Myśliwski***
Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
(Archipelago Books)
Scenes from Village Life by Amos Oz
Translated from the Hebrew by Nicholas de Lange
(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
The Shadow-Boxing Woman by Inka Parei
Translated from the German by Katy Derbyshire
(Seagull Books)
Funeral for a Dog by Thomas Pletzinger***
Translated from the German by Ross Benjamin
W.W. Norton)
Scars by Juan José Saer
Translated from the Spanish by Steve Dolph
(Open Letter)
Kafka’s Leopards by Moacyr Scliar
Translated from the Portuguese by Thomas O. Beebee
(Texas Tech University Pres)
Seven Years by Peter Stamm***
Translated from the German by Michael Hofmann
(Other Press)
The Truth about Marie by Jean-Philippe Toussaint
Translated from the French by Matthew B. Smith
(Dalkey Archive Press)
In Red by Magdalena Tulli
Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
(Archipelago Books)
Never Any End to Paris by Enrique Vila-Matas
Translated from the Spanish by Anne McLean
(New Directions)
***Reviews coming to this site or placed in other publications
My personal vote is for Kornel Esti or Stone Upon Stone.
Leeches by David Albahari
Translated from the Serbian by Ellen Elias-Bursać
(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
My review: http://www.theblacksheepdances.com/2011/06/leeches-by-david-albahari-serbian.html
My Two Worlds by Sergio Chejfec
Translated from the Spanish by Margaret B. Carson
(Open Letter)
Demolishing Nisard by Eric Chevillard
Translated from the French by Jordan Stump
(Dalkey Archive Press)
Private Property by Paule Constant
Translated from the French by Margot Miller and France Grenaudier-Klijn
(University of Nebraska Press)
Lightning by Jean Echenoz
Translated from the French by Linda Coverdale
(New Press)
Zone by Mathias Énard***
Translated from the French by Charlotte Mandell
(Open Letter)
Buzz Aldrin, What Happened to You in All the Confusion? by Johan Harstad
Translated from the Norwegian by Deborah Dawkin
(Seven Stories)
Upstaged by Jacques Jouet
Translated from the French by Leland de la Durantaye
(Dalkey Archive Press)
Fiasco by Imre Kertész***
Translated from the Hungarian by Tim Wilkinson
(Melville House)
Montecore by Jonas Hassen Khemiri
Translated from the Swedish by Rachel Willson-Broyles
(Knopf)
Kornél Esti by Dezső Kosztolányi***
Translated from the Hungarian by Bernard Adams
(New Directions)
I Am a Japanese Writer by Dany Laferrière
Translated from the French by David Homel
(Douglas & MacIntyre)
Suicide by Edouard Levé
Translated from the French by Jan Steyn
(Dalkey Archive Press)
New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani
Translated from the Italian by Judith Landry
(Dedalus)
Purgatory by Tomás Eloy MartÃnez
Translated from the Spanish by Frank Wynne
(Bloomsbury)
Stone Upon Stone by Wiesław Myśliwski***
Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
(Archipelago Books)
Scenes from Village Life by Amos Oz
Translated from the Hebrew by Nicholas de Lange
(Houghton Mifflin Harcourt)
The Shadow-Boxing Woman by Inka Parei
Translated from the German by Katy Derbyshire
(Seagull Books)
Funeral for a Dog by Thomas Pletzinger***
Translated from the German by Ross Benjamin
W.W. Norton)
Scars by Juan José Saer
Translated from the Spanish by Steve Dolph
(Open Letter)
Kafka’s Leopards by Moacyr Scliar
Translated from the Portuguese by Thomas O. Beebee
(Texas Tech University Pres)
Seven Years by Peter Stamm***
Translated from the German by Michael Hofmann
(Other Press)
The Truth about Marie by Jean-Philippe Toussaint
Translated from the French by Matthew B. Smith
(Dalkey Archive Press)
In Red by Magdalena Tulli
Translated from the Polish by Bill Johnston
(Archipelago Books)
Never Any End to Paris by Enrique Vila-Matas
Translated from the Spanish by Anne McLean
(New Directions)
***Reviews coming to this site or placed in other publications
My personal vote is for Kornel Esti or Stone Upon Stone.
Tuesday, February 7, 2012
Two book giveaway! WEST OF HERE and UNTIL THE NEXT TIME
Two great books from Algonquin Books are up for grabs! Thanks to their generosity, an extra copy of West of Here by Jonathan Evison, one of last year's most popular fiction titles (with the gorgeous retro cover). Also a new paperback release by Kevin Fox Until the Next Time, set in Ireland, that looks amazing. My reviews are coming this month as well...
If you have time, check out Algonquin's website and see their huge list of new releases that are perfect for book clubs. They even have a page for book club resources:
To Enter:
Be a blog follower and leave a comment to this posting.
Leave email address for contact within your comment.
US addresses only.
Ends March 1, 2012 at 9:00 pm PAC time,
winner selected by random generator.
One extra entry for posting this link on your own website or blog--
just put your link in comment box too to get an extra entry.
Monday, February 6, 2012
The Goodbye Town by Timothy O'Keefe
...first published in the February 2012 issue of Gently Read Literature at http://issuu.com/gently_read_literature/docs/grl_feb
How then, can a cozy name
Betray our need for something
Ultrahuman, polychrome?
…the satellites
Are never coming home. We live
In peek-a-boo stars.
In afterthrills.
If we need color, as Timothy O’Keefe writes above, he certainly delivers it in this collection of poetry that plots the geography of the anonymous landscape in The Goodbye Town. Nearly every poem uses colors to describe a place that feels familiar yet retains a sense of mystery. The use of color in poetry is pretty much standard, but I’ve not read a poet that has used so many variations of color to reflect regret, shyness, and even the “trembly green” of social isolation.
At times, he uses poems to connect past memories to current events, making the reader ponder if change every truly occurs, or if our DNA projects only grim repetition. In “Poem in a Book That Was Never Opened,” he describes the definition of home but ultimately in the past tense:
There was a home
We called it here.
The big lamps burned
And the wind was humming
Then: taking, taking,
Giving red maple, red maple.
…We’ll say
The shapes are not bereaved of weight.
We said
The town is not besieged.
This same sense of conflicted memory exists in “The Outlying Counties and Then Some,” where in 27 lines he traces the change from childhood innocence and abundance, where “everyone had a mother then, a working train set” to impending adulthood, wondering “why this quaking in the trees, the winter sidewalks so quick to melt”. It’s with acceptance rather than melancholy that he describes a place that is ultimately “a forgiven landscape, the landscape itself a reflection of the grace that gathered elsewhere.” His gaze isn’t focused on blind nostalgia, but on reality; one that may lack the Crayola memories of youth but instead gains texture and shadow.
The most intriguing part of his book is the unknown identity of A.F. Little, a character that appears in various poems that only hint at who he is or how he relates to the intangible location of the Goodbye Town. Born of violence, he thinks in the color brown and acts childlike, although we can sense advanced age. The bird-like man appears in shadowy poems that depict the sea and warfare, a past in Alban. Is it the fields of Italy or France that have marked him? Even from his ominous birth, the presence of grief accompanies him.
O’Keefe is also a master of knockout lines, phrases that halt your reading as you reverse to read them again:
“penguins never dream of flying, even in water”
“a screen door snaps like a shard of night itself””
“the clothesline whips its sleeves”
In line with this collection, an essay in Windfall (Vol 1, No. 2, Spring 2003) entitled “Form in Poetry of Place,” editors Bill Siverly and Michael McDowell help in describing the unique nature of literature related to location:
"The idea of “place” has been considerably devalued in American culture, to the point at which it functions more as a metaphor than a reality. Few people see themselves as part of a particular landscape…rather, we see ourselves as inhabiting very transportable “places”—look-alike Starbucks, cars, ranch houses, condos, Costcos, concerts, conversations. ”Place” is more of an idea….
“Place” in literature tends to be dismissed as ‘regionalism’ or ‘local color’."
It feels cliché to say that the Goodbye Town is Anytown, USA, but the structure enhances the poems because it anchors them in something we can recognize. Whether or not O’Keefe imagined this place or if it is loosely based on a real small town is immaterial; every mention of a wet road, a windy street, an old tree or an abandoned house locks it into reality. His apt descriptions combine with our memories and somehow, we know we’ve been there. The familiarity can be frightening
How then, can a cozy name
Betray our need for something
Ultrahuman, polychrome?
…the satellites
Are never coming home. We live
In peek-a-boo stars.
In afterthrills.
If we need color, as Timothy O’Keefe writes above, he certainly delivers it in this collection of poetry that plots the geography of the anonymous landscape in The Goodbye Town. Nearly every poem uses colors to describe a place that feels familiar yet retains a sense of mystery. The use of color in poetry is pretty much standard, but I’ve not read a poet that has used so many variations of color to reflect regret, shyness, and even the “trembly green” of social isolation.
At times, he uses poems to connect past memories to current events, making the reader ponder if change every truly occurs, or if our DNA projects only grim repetition. In “Poem in a Book That Was Never Opened,” he describes the definition of home but ultimately in the past tense:
There was a home
We called it here.
The big lamps burned
And the wind was humming
Then: taking, taking,
Giving red maple, red maple.
…We’ll say
The shapes are not bereaved of weight.
We said
The town is not besieged.
This same sense of conflicted memory exists in “The Outlying Counties and Then Some,” where in 27 lines he traces the change from childhood innocence and abundance, where “everyone had a mother then, a working train set” to impending adulthood, wondering “why this quaking in the trees, the winter sidewalks so quick to melt”. It’s with acceptance rather than melancholy that he describes a place that is ultimately “a forgiven landscape, the landscape itself a reflection of the grace that gathered elsewhere.” His gaze isn’t focused on blind nostalgia, but on reality; one that may lack the Crayola memories of youth but instead gains texture and shadow.
The most intriguing part of his book is the unknown identity of A.F. Little, a character that appears in various poems that only hint at who he is or how he relates to the intangible location of the Goodbye Town. Born of violence, he thinks in the color brown and acts childlike, although we can sense advanced age. The bird-like man appears in shadowy poems that depict the sea and warfare, a past in Alban. Is it the fields of Italy or France that have marked him? Even from his ominous birth, the presence of grief accompanies him.
O’Keefe is also a master of knockout lines, phrases that halt your reading as you reverse to read them again:
“penguins never dream of flying, even in water”
“a screen door snaps like a shard of night itself””
“the clothesline whips its sleeves”
In line with this collection, an essay in Windfall (Vol 1, No. 2, Spring 2003) entitled “Form in Poetry of Place,” editors Bill Siverly and Michael McDowell help in describing the unique nature of literature related to location:
"The idea of “place” has been considerably devalued in American culture, to the point at which it functions more as a metaphor than a reality. Few people see themselves as part of a particular landscape…rather, we see ourselves as inhabiting very transportable “places”—look-alike Starbucks, cars, ranch houses, condos, Costcos, concerts, conversations. ”Place” is more of an idea….
“Place” in literature tends to be dismissed as ‘regionalism’ or ‘local color’."
It feels cliché to say that the Goodbye Town is Anytown, USA, but the structure enhances the poems because it anchors them in something we can recognize. Whether or not O’Keefe imagined this place or if it is loosely based on a real small town is immaterial; every mention of a wet road, a windy street, an old tree or an abandoned house locks it into reality. His apt descriptions combine with our memories and somehow, we know we’ve been there. The familiarity can be frightening
Saturday, February 4, 2012
Bereft by Chris Womersley (Australian fiction)
"...the return from war was surely worse than the leaving."
This is the book I completed for the Australian Literature Month, hosted by Kim at Reading Matters. See her details and overview here.
It's the story of Quinn Walker, who leaves home suddenly and under suspicion when his sister is murdered. He joins Australia's efforts in WWI, travels the world, and returns with a dangerous desire to go back to the small town that would love to string him up for the crime.
Injured in the War, he suffers from the loss of a portion of his face, injuries from the mustard gas, and all the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At points early on, it's easy to question whether he is recounting events correctly, or if he's hallucinating, and these ratchets up the tension since either way, it affects his actions. The small town of Flint has suffered during wartime as well, as the Spanish Flu has killed many, and this scarred stranger (as he disguises himself) is not welcomed.
Hiding in the hills, he eventually meets a young girl who, significantly, is the age that his sister was when died. She's been orphaned by the flu, and is essentially a feral animal that refuses the very protection it most needs. They make an unlikely and bickering duo, and the details she knows of his sister's murder are disturbing. As he struggles with reality, his injuries, and the impending death of his mother, he's also trying to figure out a way to clear his name, aided only by this little girl who seems to encourage violence with a sinister air.
Or is she? Or is he imagining it? Is he tormented by guilt? What he saw in the War? Where does his reality begin, and the hallucinations end?
This is one book I stayed with an entire long afternoon, and was completely (enjoyably) immersed in the tension and the scenery. Womersley writes descriptively but without sounding like he's rattling off a list of details....the descriptions somehow mingle into the narrative. A bit of clumsy foreshadowing early on led me to guess the plot fairly easily, but the author still threw in some unexpected twists and complications. The characters of Quinn and Sadie are complicated and compelling; the other main characters a bit more stereotypical (one a generic bad guy). The beauty of it is in the prose: concrete, detailed, yet fast-paced. There's suspense in every interaction between Quinn and Sadie, which is really hard to pull off. Realistically, guessing the plot was irrelevant--the creation of unique characters is where the author's gift is clear.
Womersley has a previous book, The Low Road, that I will look for next. He reminds me a tiny bit of Tim Winton in the apparent knowledge of the Australian landscape and its feature, but their voices are completely different. I wouldn't be surprised if this novel was someday made into a film...it has all the elements that would make a suspenseful and visually beautiful film.
This is the book I completed for the Australian Literature Month, hosted by Kim at Reading Matters. See her details and overview here.
It's the story of Quinn Walker, who leaves home suddenly and under suspicion when his sister is murdered. He joins Australia's efforts in WWI, travels the world, and returns with a dangerous desire to go back to the small town that would love to string him up for the crime.
Injured in the War, he suffers from the loss of a portion of his face, injuries from the mustard gas, and all the symptoms of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder. At points early on, it's easy to question whether he is recounting events correctly, or if he's hallucinating, and these ratchets up the tension since either way, it affects his actions. The small town of Flint has suffered during wartime as well, as the Spanish Flu has killed many, and this scarred stranger (as he disguises himself) is not welcomed.
Hiding in the hills, he eventually meets a young girl who, significantly, is the age that his sister was when died. She's been orphaned by the flu, and is essentially a feral animal that refuses the very protection it most needs. They make an unlikely and bickering duo, and the details she knows of his sister's murder are disturbing. As he struggles with reality, his injuries, and the impending death of his mother, he's also trying to figure out a way to clear his name, aided only by this little girl who seems to encourage violence with a sinister air.
Or is she? Or is he imagining it? Is he tormented by guilt? What he saw in the War? Where does his reality begin, and the hallucinations end?
This is one book I stayed with an entire long afternoon, and was completely (enjoyably) immersed in the tension and the scenery. Womersley writes descriptively but without sounding like he's rattling off a list of details....the descriptions somehow mingle into the narrative. A bit of clumsy foreshadowing early on led me to guess the plot fairly easily, but the author still threw in some unexpected twists and complications. The characters of Quinn and Sadie are complicated and compelling; the other main characters a bit more stereotypical (one a generic bad guy). The beauty of it is in the prose: concrete, detailed, yet fast-paced. There's suspense in every interaction between Quinn and Sadie, which is really hard to pull off. Realistically, guessing the plot was irrelevant--the creation of unique characters is where the author's gift is clear.
Womersley has a previous book, The Low Road, that I will look for next. He reminds me a tiny bit of Tim Winton in the apparent knowledge of the Australian landscape and its feature, but their voices are completely different. I wouldn't be surprised if this novel was someday made into a film...it has all the elements that would make a suspenseful and visually beautiful film.
Special thanks to Nicci Praca of Quercus Books, UK, for the Review Copy.
Sunday, January 22, 2012
2011 Nat'l Book Critics Circle nominees
From the LA Times Jacket Copy blog at http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/jacketcopy/2012/01/national-book-critics-circle-announce-awards-finalists.html
"The National Book Critics Circle announced the finalists for its 2011 book awards at a public ceremony on Saturday in New York City. Two Southern California writers are among those up for the awards, which will be presented on March 8 in Manhattan.
"It Calls You Back," an intergenerational tale of life in and out of Los Angeles gangs by Luis Rodriguez, a follow-up to his classic memoir "Always Running," is among the finalists for autobiography. Jonathan Lethem, who holds the Roy E. Disney Chair in Creative Writing at Pomona College, is a finalist for his collection of critical essays, "The Ecstasy of Influence." Another finalist, the novel "Stone Arabia" by Dana Spiotta, is set in the San Fernando Valley.
Awards will be made in six categories: fiction, nonfiction, biography, autobiography, poetry and criticism. For 37 years, the National Book Critics Circle has annually presented awards to books of excellence. Previous winners include Cormac McCarthy, John Updike, John Ashberry, Jennifer Egan, Alex Ross, Roberto Bolano, Susan Sontag, Martin Amis and Junot Diaz.
The 30 2011 NBCC finalists include many who have been previously recognized for their work: two Pulitzer Prize winners, one winner of the Booker Prize, two previously NBCC award winners, and one author who has received the National Humanities Medal. Yet the NBCC board also recognized two debuts: Teju Cole's novel, "Open City," and "Pulphead," a collection of essays by John Jeremiah Sullivan.
L.A. Times book critic David L. Ulin and staff writer Carolyn Kellogg sit on the 24-member board of the National Book Critics Circle.
Fiction
Teju Cole, "Open City"
Jeffrey Eugenides, "The Marriage Plot"
Alan Hollinghurst, "Stranger's Child"
Edith Pearlmam, "Binocular Vision"
Dana Spiotta, "Stone Arabia"
Nonfiction
Amanda Foreman, "A World On Fire"
James Gleick, "The Information"
Adam Hochschild, "To End All Wars"
Maya Jasanoff, "Liberty's Exiles"
John Jeremiah Sullivan, "Pulphead"
Autobio
Diana Ackerman, "One Hundred Names for Love"
Mira Bartok, "Memory Palace"
Luis Rodriguez, "It Calls You Back"
Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts, "Harlem is Nowhere"
Deb Olin Unferth, "Revolution"
Biography
Mary Gabriel, "Love and Capital"
John Lewis Gaddis, "George F. Kennan"
Paul Hendrickson, "Hemingway's Boat"
Manning Marable, "Malcolm X"
Ezra Vogel, "Deng Xiaoping"
Criticism
David Bellos, "Is That A Fish In Your Ear"
Geoff Dyer, "Otherwise Known As the Human Condition"
Jonathan Lethem, "The Ecstasy of Influence"
Dubravka Ugresic, "Karaoke Culture"
Ellen Willis, "Out of the Vinyl Deeps"
Poetry
Forrest Gander, " Core Samples..."
Aracelis Girmay, "Kingdom Animalia"
Laura Kasischke, "Space, In Chains"
Yusef Komunyakaa, "The Chameleon Couch"
Bruce Smith, "Devotions"
"The National Book Critics Circle announced the finalists for its 2011 book awards at a public ceremony on Saturday in New York City. Two Southern California writers are among those up for the awards, which will be presented on March 8 in Manhattan.
"It Calls You Back," an intergenerational tale of life in and out of Los Angeles gangs by Luis Rodriguez, a follow-up to his classic memoir "Always Running," is among the finalists for autobiography. Jonathan Lethem, who holds the Roy E. Disney Chair in Creative Writing at Pomona College, is a finalist for his collection of critical essays, "The Ecstasy of Influence." Another finalist, the novel "Stone Arabia" by Dana Spiotta, is set in the San Fernando Valley.
Awards will be made in six categories: fiction, nonfiction, biography, autobiography, poetry and criticism. For 37 years, the National Book Critics Circle has annually presented awards to books of excellence. Previous winners include Cormac McCarthy, John Updike, John Ashberry, Jennifer Egan, Alex Ross, Roberto Bolano, Susan Sontag, Martin Amis and Junot Diaz.
The 30 2011 NBCC finalists include many who have been previously recognized for their work: two Pulitzer Prize winners, one winner of the Booker Prize, two previously NBCC award winners, and one author who has received the National Humanities Medal. Yet the NBCC board also recognized two debuts: Teju Cole's novel, "Open City," and "Pulphead," a collection of essays by John Jeremiah Sullivan.
L.A. Times book critic David L. Ulin and staff writer Carolyn Kellogg sit on the 24-member board of the National Book Critics Circle.
Fiction
Teju Cole, "Open City"
Jeffrey Eugenides, "The Marriage Plot"
Alan Hollinghurst, "Stranger's Child"
Edith Pearlmam, "Binocular Vision"
Dana Spiotta, "Stone Arabia"
Nonfiction
Amanda Foreman, "A World On Fire"
James Gleick, "The Information"
Adam Hochschild, "To End All Wars"
Maya Jasanoff, "Liberty's Exiles"
John Jeremiah Sullivan, "Pulphead"
Autobio
Diana Ackerman, "One Hundred Names for Love"
Mira Bartok, "Memory Palace"
Luis Rodriguez, "It Calls You Back"
Sharifa Rhodes-Pitts, "Harlem is Nowhere"
Deb Olin Unferth, "Revolution"
Biography
Mary Gabriel, "Love and Capital"
John Lewis Gaddis, "George F. Kennan"
Paul Hendrickson, "Hemingway's Boat"
Manning Marable, "Malcolm X"
Ezra Vogel, "Deng Xiaoping"
Criticism
David Bellos, "Is That A Fish In Your Ear"
Geoff Dyer, "Otherwise Known As the Human Condition"
Jonathan Lethem, "The Ecstasy of Influence"
Dubravka Ugresic, "Karaoke Culture"
Ellen Willis, "Out of the Vinyl Deeps"
Poetry
Forrest Gander, " Core Samples..."
Aracelis Girmay, "Kingdom Animalia"
Laura Kasischke, "Space, In Chains"
Yusef Komunyakaa, "The Chameleon Couch"
Bruce Smith, "Devotions"
Friday, January 20, 2012
The Redbreast by Jo Nesbo (Norwegian crime)
I've heard his name over and over, but this was the first Nesbo title I've read. Part of the draw was that it seems like everyone who reads his books raves about the detective Harry Hole, who features in several of the books. I like characters who show up in series. Arkady Renko, Kurt Wallander, Kinsey Milhone, Harry Bosch...all of these become so familar in series form that you can almost know how they think. (I dropped the Javier Falcon series after awhile...just too gory, too ick!)
I'm not going to go into a formal review....I picked this up as part of my goof-off time reading and enjoyed it. It's won of ton of awards, and for once I'd think someone could make a movie of this rather than the inevitable Larsson books. Great mystery, great series, good stuff!
Purchased at the Book Exchange in Los Osos, California.
Wednesday, January 18, 2012
Grip, A Memoir of Fierce Attractions by Nina Hamberg
"I had to search for my voice. It was hiding."
Yes, memoir. It's important to note that because reading this feels much like a novel. I was turning pages quickly, anxious to see what happened next. Being that it is nonfiction, however, makes it that much more frightening.
While the book is focused on violence committed against one woman, specifically, it raises questions about women and violence in general, especially in regard to victimization. What makes someone a victim? And does that label mark someone forever?
In the book, Hamberg recounts a childhood that isn't all bad. Her parents don't get along, but she seems to have the necessities of life. As she gets older, her parents divorce, and life gets far more complicated. Yet, that in itself is not unusual either. What is unusual is the attitudes that surround her life, especially when she seeks help from those most trusted to her and most responsible for her safety.
The first incident is a Peeping Tom outside her bedroom, rattling the windows. She seeks help from her brother in another room, who ignores her pleas for help. In the morning, footprints are visible. Her sense of security was shaken, and the only question asked of her was "are you going to obsess about this all day"? Not long after, she thought there was an intruder, and the police were called by her mother. They didn't investigate much, just assuming she was jumpy. Even her mother regarded her with "the same kind of tight smile she used when I was six and knocked over a glass of milk at the dinner table."
Shortly after this, Hamberg was attacked by a man in her bed who eventually stabbed her and left. When the police came, they seemed disinterested in investigating the crime--they were sure it was an unhappy boyfriend that was responsible. The perpetrator has never been caught.
What makes the book so riveting isn't that these crimes occurred-we are all exposed to endless reruns of Law & Order that spill the gory details. More interesting is how Hamberg's family dealt with her. Her mother was, for the most part, inconvenienced by her daughter's troubles, and any time they discussed them she either implied that her daughter was imagining things or she would flirt with the police officers who responded. The attack that left Hamberg scarred turned into a situation where the mother made it all about herself and her own distress.
Hamberg then makes a conscious effort from then on out to protect herself, including becoming trained in self-defense. Yet even with her physical power increased and her mind practiced on how to recognize and avoid harm, she discovers that those skills aren't enough. As a film student, she rails against what is essentially a tradition in her classes: exploitation and violence of women as a way to generate interest. Her classmates attempt to outdo each other in horrific scenes, that all are labeled as art so as to avoid censorship.
Even in her personal life, despite her awful experiences and a world-view that is wise to danger, she finds herself in precarious situations. So awful that I didn't want to read any further. I really wanted to put it away, because the nature of evil against women and children is not pleasant. And I did, for a day or two. Yet I picked it back up, because I think there's a more serious question involved that needs to be evaluated. Beyond what happened to her on an event by event basis, what about her emotional anchorage? Where was her family? Why were they so quick to demean her by ignoring her and minimizing events?
As a parent, I had to continue to ask myself, why did no one listen? Is there something I could be doing that is preventing me from hearing what my children are trying to tell me? Especially mothers of daughters: how much active listening takes place? Could it be that our modern lives are so crazy busy and stressful that we tune out anything that could be "bad", just to avoid dealing with it? Or does the violence we see thrown at us on television (Law & Order again) desensitize us to danger that could be present in the real world?
All the questions raised by this book make me think it would be valuable to use in a school setting. In today's fractured families, perhaps there is a need for some sort of curriculum to let young women know that they are not crazy, not imagining things, and that they can reach out for help if others let them down. Most of all, I appreciate that this book gives a former victim a voice: so often perpetrators of violence minimize their actions, or blame someone else (usually the victim), or manipulate the facts to portray themselves differently. In fact, many criminals manage to use the same tactics as Hamberg's family (disinterest and distraction) to get away with terrible crimes.
Seeing Hamberg step away from this pattern and how she did it is the takeaway that could be useful to many women. It's not a formula book, there's no "do this and you'll feel better". But reading how she came through these experiences emotionally stronger makes for powerful reading.
Yes, memoir. It's important to note that because reading this feels much like a novel. I was turning pages quickly, anxious to see what happened next. Being that it is nonfiction, however, makes it that much more frightening.
In the book, Hamberg recounts a childhood that isn't all bad. Her parents don't get along, but she seems to have the necessities of life. As she gets older, her parents divorce, and life gets far more complicated. Yet, that in itself is not unusual either. What is unusual is the attitudes that surround her life, especially when she seeks help from those most trusted to her and most responsible for her safety.
The first incident is a Peeping Tom outside her bedroom, rattling the windows. She seeks help from her brother in another room, who ignores her pleas for help. In the morning, footprints are visible. Her sense of security was shaken, and the only question asked of her was "are you going to obsess about this all day"? Not long after, she thought there was an intruder, and the police were called by her mother. They didn't investigate much, just assuming she was jumpy. Even her mother regarded her with "the same kind of tight smile she used when I was six and knocked over a glass of milk at the dinner table."
Shortly after this, Hamberg was attacked by a man in her bed who eventually stabbed her and left. When the police came, they seemed disinterested in investigating the crime--they were sure it was an unhappy boyfriend that was responsible. The perpetrator has never been caught.
What makes the book so riveting isn't that these crimes occurred-we are all exposed to endless reruns of Law & Order that spill the gory details. More interesting is how Hamberg's family dealt with her. Her mother was, for the most part, inconvenienced by her daughter's troubles, and any time they discussed them she either implied that her daughter was imagining things or she would flirt with the police officers who responded. The attack that left Hamberg scarred turned into a situation where the mother made it all about herself and her own distress.
Hamberg then makes a conscious effort from then on out to protect herself, including becoming trained in self-defense. Yet even with her physical power increased and her mind practiced on how to recognize and avoid harm, she discovers that those skills aren't enough. As a film student, she rails against what is essentially a tradition in her classes: exploitation and violence of women as a way to generate interest. Her classmates attempt to outdo each other in horrific scenes, that all are labeled as art so as to avoid censorship.
Even in her personal life, despite her awful experiences and a world-view that is wise to danger, she finds herself in precarious situations. So awful that I didn't want to read any further. I really wanted to put it away, because the nature of evil against women and children is not pleasant. And I did, for a day or two. Yet I picked it back up, because I think there's a more serious question involved that needs to be evaluated. Beyond what happened to her on an event by event basis, what about her emotional anchorage? Where was her family? Why were they so quick to demean her by ignoring her and minimizing events?
As a parent, I had to continue to ask myself, why did no one listen? Is there something I could be doing that is preventing me from hearing what my children are trying to tell me? Especially mothers of daughters: how much active listening takes place? Could it be that our modern lives are so crazy busy and stressful that we tune out anything that could be "bad", just to avoid dealing with it? Or does the violence we see thrown at us on television (Law & Order again) desensitize us to danger that could be present in the real world?
All the questions raised by this book make me think it would be valuable to use in a school setting. In today's fractured families, perhaps there is a need for some sort of curriculum to let young women know that they are not crazy, not imagining things, and that they can reach out for help if others let them down. Most of all, I appreciate that this book gives a former victim a voice: so often perpetrators of violence minimize their actions, or blame someone else (usually the victim), or manipulate the facts to portray themselves differently. In fact, many criminals manage to use the same tactics as Hamberg's family (disinterest and distraction) to get away with terrible crimes.
Seeing Hamberg step away from this pattern and how she did it is the takeaway that could be useful to many women. It's not a formula book, there's no "do this and you'll feel better". But reading how she came through these experiences emotionally stronger makes for powerful reading.
Special thanks to Anna Shay of Route One Press for the Review Copy.
Monday, January 16, 2012
Irish Journal by Heinrich Boll (travel memoir)
Translated from the German by Leila Vennewitz
At a pub before evening mass, Heinrich Boll observes a shrewish woman harassing and threatening a hungry child that she thinks is using too much vinegar on his chips. By chance Boll notes that "the savior was approaching"...a banged-up brute who pretends to kiss her hand, offers her a ten-shilling note, then interjects, "May I request you, Madam, to regard these ten shillings as sufficient payment for the six drops of vinegar?"
Oh snap. Such a moment captured is one of the unforgettable scenes in Boll's Irish Journal, a collection of essays he wrote about his visit to the Emerald Isle in the 1950s that comes across much like a love letter to the Irish people. In the event above, he doesn't just leave it at his own observation, he brings it to the reader's consciousness, by making us wonder about the benefactor:
"The man who lives poetry instead of writing it pays ten thousand percent interest. Where was he, the dark, blood-stained drunk, who had had enough string for his jacket but not for his shoes?"
Just outside, in the same scene as above, he depicts the buildings:
"King John's Castle reared grimly out of the darkness, a tourist attraction hemmed in by tenements from the twenties, and the tenements of the twentieth century looked more dilapidated than King John's Castle of the thirteenth; the dim light from the weak bulbs could not compete with the massive shadow of the castle, everything was submerged in sour darkness."
The image he creates mixes characters caught between faith and tradition and modern change, yet still capable of vast generosity in the face of poverty. Anger mixes with empathy, and somehow the way he connects the fight over "vinegar" to the "sour" light makes it contain so much depth. And of course, the bum's reminder to the woman about mass, a dig at her less-than-charitable spirit, shows how Boll could see the irony in the situation.
Many of the images that Boll writes about are not far off from our pop culture image of Ireland, a place romanticized by many as a place of quaint cottages and endless green. (Those of us unfortunate enough to have seen the film, PS I Love You have further embellished that image with scenes of Gerard Butler and Jeffrey Dean Morgan meandering the countryside, spilling charm everywhere. Neither of whom are Irish.) Having come off a semester of Irish Studies, I realize that the reality is far different, yet the timing of Boll's trip and his ability to write about the people of Ireland without delving into the politics make this a lovely read.
In "Skeleton of a Human Habitation", Boll writes of the abandoned village he discovers on a walk with his family. "Everything not made of stone gnawed away by rain, sun, and wind--and time, which patiently trickles over everything; twenty-four great drops of time a day, the acid that eats everything away as imperceptibly as resignation." He describes the village much as a human body, with spine and heart and limbs--he puts the church as the head. He observes that the town has been left alone and not plundered, and how the doorways and walls, while decrepit, still remain. Only his own children, outsiders (the Bolls are German), attempt to raze what they can. It seems that he's making a distinction between the identity of a nation towards its own things, and notes that "this, then, is what a human habitation looks like when it has been left in peace after death." How many places permit this return to the soil? Is it perhaps that the soil feels alive, a dignified presence deserving of respect?
Boll draws attention to generous train conductors that help out when they can't change money, and good-hearted people determined to help without question when they are short on funds. He even describes something quite new to me: the private drinking booth. Inside it's leather curtain, "the drinker locks himself in like a horse; to be alone with whisky and pain, with belief and unbelief; he lowers himself deep below the surface of time, into the caisson of passivity, as long as his money lasts; till he is compelled to float up again to the surface of time, to take part somehow in the weary paddling: meaningless, helpless movements, since every vessel is destined to drift toward the dark waters of the Styx."
Incidental details make Boll's journeys rich, and he describes them in a voice that is simple and clear. I say that because I've been recently reading other German authors, namely Bernhard, Kafka, and Trakl, and at times I feel frustrated by my lack of understanding. At the time I was reading this, Irish Journal, I also read Boll's The Bread of Our Early Years, just to see how different his memoir voice was from his narrative voice. Both are deep reads, full of subtle clues, yet with surprisingly uncluttered prose. Fortunately, Boll wrote a great many titles, and I'm eager to delve into more.
As a side note, I found it interesting that the translator was the same for both books. This led me to discover that Leila Vennewitz was pretty much the only English translator for Bolls, and received numerous awards for her translations. In an interview in 2006, she stated that "she had always wanted to be a translator, she never made a major blunder in her work, she never had much trouble with editors and she preferred to take her time on each project. Vennewitz preferred to view the translator as "the boss," not unlike an orchestra conductor. She never had an agent and she pioneered the ability of translators to gain copyright for their own translations. She maintained she had always followed the early advice of a fellow translator: "Be bold." (BCBW 2007 archive, "Translation")
It should be said that while the essays were written in the 1950s, he did add an Epilogue dated 1967. In this, he does acknowledge more of the political problems that were developing and the change present all over Europe, but seems focused on not taking a political position. He has a bit to say about how the birth control pill will change Ireland, and it struck me as a bit unexpected, maybe naive. Because of his love of all things Irish, especially the children, I wonder if he was heartbroken when some of the little children he so admired died in hunger strikes years later. How pained he must have been.
From this all, of course, Ireland is still number one on my wish-list destination, and Boll's personal biography is the next thing I'm going to hunt for.
Special thanks to Nathan at Melville House for the Review Copy.
Tuesday, January 10, 2012
"Soundtrack of our Books" - article on coordinating music with literature
On the Millions website (http://www.themillions.com/), you can find all sorts of book-related discussions and reviews. The following link is particularly intriguing. Sharon Steel wrote about publishers and authors who propose playlists that are directly (or indirectly) related to their characters and books.
What do you think? Would you want your e-reader to pop up with music at certain moments of a scene? Do you want to know what music the author was inspired by? Is music too personally subjective to have presented as part of the 'package'? In my case, I hate it when a book cover shows an actual person; it interferes with how I picture things. Along that line, I don't think I'd want a music tie-in necessarily...and I would especially dislike being pushed to understand a character by listening to their music (I would want that to be the writer's job). Wouldn't it open up a whole new industry, catering to book interpretation, which would then be subject to costing the reader money? Optional, maybe. But required? No way.
Thoughts?
http://www.themillions.com/2012/01/the-soundtrack-of-our-books.html
What do you think? Would you want your e-reader to pop up with music at certain moments of a scene? Do you want to know what music the author was inspired by? Is music too personally subjective to have presented as part of the 'package'? In my case, I hate it when a book cover shows an actual person; it interferes with how I picture things. Along that line, I don't think I'd want a music tie-in necessarily...and I would especially dislike being pushed to understand a character by listening to their music (I would want that to be the writer's job). Wouldn't it open up a whole new industry, catering to book interpretation, which would then be subject to costing the reader money? Optional, maybe. But required? No way.
Thoughts?
http://www.themillions.com/2012/01/the-soundtrack-of-our-books.html
Monday, January 9, 2012
The Joy of Books video..and why my Kindle can't dance
Sort of the coolest thing online, IMHO...
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=SKVcQnyEIT8 This was on Jason Boog's Galleycat blog this morning.
My Kindle can't dance.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=SKVcQnyEIT8 This was on Jason Boog's Galleycat blog this morning.
My Kindle can't dance.
Surface Effects in Winter Wind, poetry by Tobi Cogswell
"Where kisses are given
and kisses received,
the charted course of
coffee and the smell
of jasmine outside
sweet as gold."
---from "This Kitchen"
Real people inhabit the world of Tobi Cogswell's poems in her collection, "Surface Effects in Winter Wind"---they breathe, eat, and sleep in a dreamy reality made beautiful by lovely word choices and unique images. I loved the sense of life that the poems contain. Not always happy life, but a life that is never lived with reluctance.
The most revealing is "Family Portrait," where Cogswell begins with the flat image of a staged family portrait: "They are frozen in time, not like the peeling wallpaper behind them, ticking off the years with nonchalant carelessness." But she doesn't leave it there, in the place where "affection is not present." Instead, she reveals what is happening off-camera and how the family history goes far deeper than the surface picture. They are examined in past, present, and future, revealing that while "they are clean, stiff, poor and worn as the shirts", their future holds a certain stability made apparent in the sauce "always on the stove, the smiles always just out of reach". In just a few verses, she's recreated their legacy and proved to be far more accurate than any superficial portrait could ever display.
The subject of family comes up often in her verses, such as when a generous tip becomes an emblem of "a good kitchen table with smiles, a pinch or two and misbehaving" in "Saturday at the Farmer's Market". This poem journeys from the noisy market to a private room, capturing the sounds that start with a crowd full of noise that decreases incrementally until the last stanza is simply a whisper. She contrasts dandelions with roses, talks of music and avocados, and reveals a core of affection that travels the entire route.
"The Boy at Cannon Beach" is probably my favorite, simply for the images of a foggy California beach, with a sky like a "sodden marshmallow". In it, a solitary boy, lost in thought, explores the beach in that singular way that can never be explained; a stream of consciousness that can be imagined but never shared or understood. He examines "the hands that will save him, his own private clock in his own human time". As he continues, "damp footprints remind him and everyone that we love the best we can and then we're gone". The universal nature of the sea, the way it invites somber reflection and daydreams, seems to contrast with the what we may imagine as immature-the nature of a child-leaving us with a complicated depiction of age and time. And given that the image is one of quiet, it's only afterwards that you realize she never actually uses the words "silence", "quiet", or "alone". It's all inferred, not by synonyms but by images.
The entire collection features a thread of romance that appears as a confident assurance of loyal companionship. A hasty gambler, an angry waitress, and images of bacon make surprising appearances in poems that never feel too precious or aloof, but explored with warmth.
and kisses received,
the charted course of
coffee and the smell
of jasmine outside
sweet as gold."
---from "This Kitchen"
Real people inhabit the world of Tobi Cogswell's poems in her collection, "Surface Effects in Winter Wind"---they breathe, eat, and sleep in a dreamy reality made beautiful by lovely word choices and unique images. I loved the sense of life that the poems contain. Not always happy life, but a life that is never lived with reluctance.
The most revealing is "Family Portrait," where Cogswell begins with the flat image of a staged family portrait: "They are frozen in time, not like the peeling wallpaper behind them, ticking off the years with nonchalant carelessness." But she doesn't leave it there, in the place where "affection is not present." Instead, she reveals what is happening off-camera and how the family history goes far deeper than the surface picture. They are examined in past, present, and future, revealing that while "they are clean, stiff, poor and worn as the shirts", their future holds a certain stability made apparent in the sauce "always on the stove, the smiles always just out of reach". In just a few verses, she's recreated their legacy and proved to be far more accurate than any superficial portrait could ever display.
The subject of family comes up often in her verses, such as when a generous tip becomes an emblem of "a good kitchen table with smiles, a pinch or two and misbehaving" in "Saturday at the Farmer's Market". This poem journeys from the noisy market to a private room, capturing the sounds that start with a crowd full of noise that decreases incrementally until the last stanza is simply a whisper. She contrasts dandelions with roses, talks of music and avocados, and reveals a core of affection that travels the entire route.
"The Boy at Cannon Beach" is probably my favorite, simply for the images of a foggy California beach, with a sky like a "sodden marshmallow". In it, a solitary boy, lost in thought, explores the beach in that singular way that can never be explained; a stream of consciousness that can be imagined but never shared or understood. He examines "the hands that will save him, his own private clock in his own human time". As he continues, "damp footprints remind him and everyone that we love the best we can and then we're gone". The universal nature of the sea, the way it invites somber reflection and daydreams, seems to contrast with the what we may imagine as immature-the nature of a child-leaving us with a complicated depiction of age and time. And given that the image is one of quiet, it's only afterwards that you realize she never actually uses the words "silence", "quiet", or "alone". It's all inferred, not by synonyms but by images.
The entire collection features a thread of romance that appears as a confident assurance of loyal companionship. A hasty gambler, an angry waitress, and images of bacon make surprising appearances in poems that never feel too precious or aloof, but explored with warmth.
Special thanks to Kindred Spirit Press for the Review Copy.
Sick of the word "awesome"? He is too....
http://www.latimes.com/news/local/la-me-holland-20120106,0,246046,full.column
A British poet makes an excellent point about the pervasive use of a meaningless word...Los Angeles Times link.
A British poet makes an excellent point about the pervasive use of a meaningless word...Los Angeles Times link.
Sunday, January 1, 2012
January 2012 Australian Literature Challenge from Reading Matters
If you haven't signed up for the continuing Eastern European/Russian Reading Challenge for 2012 here, or the amazingly ignored 2012 Mediterranean Review Challenge (also here), shame on you! Get with it! You know you need that push to read more!
Russia is big this year: Book Expo America made it the theme. The Mediterranean region is also full of topical events. Jump in! See the tabs up above for links to enter...
Now, if you'd prefer less committment, Kim at Reading Matters is hosting an Australian Literature Month Reading Challenge for January. Just one month to read one or twenty titles from Australian authors or set in AU. Sign up here: http://kimbofo.typepad.com/readingmatters/australian-literature-month-2012.html
Best of all, she has these cute little badges to show participation (you can select one or all of them):
I went with the Kookaboora bird...he looks like he's got some serious attitude! Anyway, see the link to read instructions and find out titles you may enjoy. A few that I'd recommend are below:
Murray Bail, Eucalyptus. A quiet, peaceful book about a botanist determined to keep suitors away from his lovely daughter. The games he plays rebuff most men, but she manages to keep amused in her own way. Sweet, lovely, beautiful. Textual Xanax.
Tim Winton (any and all). Cloudstreet is probably his most famous, and appropriately so. Some scenes of pure joy and utter heartbreak, mixed with complicated times and intertwining families. Dirt Music and The Riders are both my favorites too. Breath was so-so. Blueback was preachy. The Turning is an excellent collection of short stories, as is In the Winter Dark and Minimum of Two. (Reviews of these are on the tab above for fiction, if you want more details)
The True Story of the Kelly Gang is a classic, you can't miss with it.
So, get out that new calendar and try to fit in more literature. Your brain will get a break from ugly reality, you'll explore new places, learn some Aussie slang (just don't EVER EVER suggest putting a shrimp on the barbie---Aussies are not amused by Crocodile Dundee impersonators).
Tuck a paperback in your tote, or buy a Kindle and fill it up. Just having it with you increases your reading all the more. Even audiobooks count, so fill up a long commute with an audio book!
Russia is big this year: Book Expo America made it the theme. The Mediterranean region is also full of topical events. Jump in! See the tabs up above for links to enter...
Now, if you'd prefer less committment, Kim at Reading Matters is hosting an Australian Literature Month Reading Challenge for January. Just one month to read one or twenty titles from Australian authors or set in AU. Sign up here: http://kimbofo.typepad.com/readingmatters/australian-literature-month-2012.html
Best of all, she has these cute little badges to show participation (you can select one or all of them):
Murray Bail, Eucalyptus. A quiet, peaceful book about a botanist determined to keep suitors away from his lovely daughter. The games he plays rebuff most men, but she manages to keep amused in her own way. Sweet, lovely, beautiful. Textual Xanax.
Tim Winton (any and all). Cloudstreet is probably his most famous, and appropriately so. Some scenes of pure joy and utter heartbreak, mixed with complicated times and intertwining families. Dirt Music and The Riders are both my favorites too. Breath was so-so. Blueback was preachy. The Turning is an excellent collection of short stories, as is In the Winter Dark and Minimum of Two. (Reviews of these are on the tab above for fiction, if you want more details)
The True Story of the Kelly Gang is a classic, you can't miss with it.
So, get out that new calendar and try to fit in more literature. Your brain will get a break from ugly reality, you'll explore new places, learn some Aussie slang (just don't EVER EVER suggest putting a shrimp on the barbie---Aussies are not amused by Crocodile Dundee impersonators).
Tuck a paperback in your tote, or buy a Kindle and fill it up. Just having it with you increases your reading all the more. Even audiobooks count, so fill up a long commute with an audio book!
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