Sunday, December 30, 2007

Book Review: Falling Man

Falling Man by Don DeLillo

There should be little doubt that DeLillo is a master of sorts. While I still have to catch up and read much of his work, this novel proves his ability. Falling Man is purposefully despondent. Surrounding characters touched by the collapse of the World Trade Center and taking place in the moments, weeks and months after the events of 9/11, the novel shows characters out of sorts. The narration is sparse, ephemeral. The course taken by the characters, the novel's plot itself, though, does not seem well thought out. The characters float, and I think this is also purposeful, but they float away from us.

I probably wouldn't recommend this book to someone unless they were looking to read more DeLillo or were looking into post-9/11 literature, but somewhere in the narration, the mode of this novel is a model for writing I would like to try in the near future.

Book Review: Returning to Earth

Returning to Earth by Jim Harrison

Though two other books by Harrison sit on my shelves, this was my first time reading his work. And I felt like I came in late to a conversation. It seemed to me that people who have read and enjoyed Harrison would see similar aesthetics here and be at home. This being my first experience with Harrison, I didn't get it.

There is beautiful writing here. Harrison manages to capture the landscape and the way nature infiltrates the souls of his characters. And though he establishes well the different voices in the multiple first-person narrators, it is this range of voices that makes the book disjointed. The only thing that really carries the novel forward is the notion of death.

Though I'm fond of mortality as a motif, the last couple of years seemed full of aging writers sorting out their anticipation of an inevitable death through their novels. Philip Roth in Everyman, Richard Ford in The Lay of the Land, and nearly everything Updike has written in the last decade centers on this issue. In the end (pun not intended), this Harrison novel did little for me but did not discourage me from giving him a second chance.

Friday, December 21, 2007

"... and take out all the good things I said about you."


Sometimes that New Yorker subscription actually proves worthwhile. This week it's the Raymond Carver special, with a Gordon Lish-free version of Carver's story "Beginners." And then they threw in a version with all the Lish edits (online only), an article on the relationship between writer and editor, and some correspondence between Lish and Carver, closing with this letter from Carver to Lish:
What’s the matter, don’t you love me anymore? I never hear from you. Have you forgotten me already? Well, I’m going back to the [Paris Review] interview and take out all the good things I said about you.
Maybe I'll actually get a chance to read all of this this weekend, and then I'll report back.

Friday, December 14, 2007

Book Review: Then We Came to the End

Then We Came to the End by Joshua Ferris

This book is appearing on all the best of 2007 lists and it's easy to understand why. Good books about work are hard to come by, books that capture the mundane and the inane like this one does. Even if the reader doesn't work in a similar environment of cubicles and corridors, we know these people, these relationships. And then there's the first-person plural.

I may have said this before, that I'm not one for novelty for its own sake. It seems that much of the attention that this book has garnered has been because of the point of view, that "we" voice. Now, I have of course read Faulkner's "A Rose for Emily" and this book works in a similar fashion. Faulkner's small town and Ferris's ad agency both suffer from group think. The distinction is that for Faulkner he only used this voice for a short story, Ferris drags it out for the length of a novel. Getting a hundred pages in and realizing that you don't have a single character to associate with is difficult. And at that point the book's novelty wears thin.

The book was funny and quotable, some of the characters unforgettable, but in the end I felt about as empty as the characters, the agency's employees who just keep coming into work for no particular reason.

Wednesday, December 05, 2007

WaPo's Top Ten Books of 2007

Only two of the five fiction titles are the same as the NTYBR.

Finn, by Jon Clinch
The Last Cavalier, by Alexandre Dumas; translated from the French by Lauren Yoder
On Chesil Beach, by Ian McEwan
The Savage Detectives, by Roberto Bolano
Tree of Smoke, by Denis Johnson

Edith Wharton, by Hermione Lee
FDR, by Jean Edward Smith
Ralph Ellison: A Biography, by Arnold Rampersad
The Unnatural History of the Sea, by Callum Roberts
The Zookeeper's Wife: A War Story, by Diane Ackerman

Neighbors Reflect on a Death No One Noticed

Neighbors Reflect on a Death No One Noticed - New York Times: "Ms. Copeman was upstairs, dead, curled in a fetal position in the hallway, where the police found her skeletal remains on Monday morning, said Peter Bishop, her nephew. She was dressed to go out, in a coat and a beret, Mr. Bishop said. “Winter clothes on,” he said yesterday, “so I guess she died in the winter.” Ms. Copeman had died of heart disease, the medical examiner said yesterday. The police said she had been dead between a year and 18 months."

Saturday, December 01, 2007

Newsletter Update

Let me say this first, the service I had been using to send out the weekly blog newsletter, Zookoda, sucks. They were bought out by a company called PayPerPost, whose purpose is to have people blog for money by writing about products. As you can imagine, the company could care less about its free newsletter service while it's busy robbing the authenticity from blogging. So, the service has gone down hill, trouble tickets go unanswered, and the can't seem to read my RSS feed anymore.

So, I decided I might try Feedburner. The trouble there is that when you sign up (using the form on the right) you don't get a weekly newsletter, like I would like to distribute, but instead you get daily updates. I get enough email as it is. I'd like this newsletter to come to you on the weekend, when you might actually have some time to read and give the posts some thought (and of course you're always welcome to post comments).

For now, I think I'll do it the old fashioned way and dump the week's blog content into a regular old email and send it out. For those of you up on the technology and want to put satoriworks into your newsreader, there are now three feeds available:

http://feeds.feedburner.com/satoriworks
http://satoriworks.blogspot.com/rss.xml
http://satoriworks.blogspot.com/atom.xml

Thanks for your patience.

Updating the update: So, we're going to try Feedblitz now for the weekly updates.

Movie Review: No Country For Old Men

No Country For Old Men

Based on the novel by Cormac McCarthy and produced and directed by the Coen Brothers of Fargo and Raising Arizona, No Country For Old Men had a lot to live up to. It wasn't very long into the movie, though, before I thought to myself, "Damn, this is good." It wasn't just that every setting was just how McCarthy's description made me imagine it. It was just that so much of it was spot on. The dialogue was just so real and believable. Capturing all of the idioms we use daily is a hard thing for writers to do, I believe. To hear McCarthy's dialogue come out of characters, many of them ancillary and insignificant, who look as rough as the landscape that surrounds them, is nearly to be right there. It is authentic. Or it has the feeling of a portrayal of authenticity, at least.

Tommy Lee Jones is always good, but as a tired and death-obsessed west Texas Sheriff, he is perfect. And the villain, portrayed by Javier Bardem, is creepy and unsettling, and his philosophy gets under your skin.

It really was an excellent movie, despite a couple of quirks at the end that escape the normal Hollywood conventions. I imagine some might be upset with the way it ends, but any other direction would have been blasphemy.

Wednesday, November 28, 2007

NYTBR Picks Best Books

So, not that any of the fiction titles on the list should surprise anyone, they all had great reviews and were all generally well received. What makes the list remarkable is that it doesn't include any of the big-hitters who had books out this year. No Philip Roth, no Don DeLillo, no Richard Russo, not even Alice Munro or Michael Chabon. The only real surprise here might be the Michael Thomas title. As far as the non-fiction goes, this should just reinforce that Emerald City and The Nine are both worth reading. Anyway, more titles to add to my wish list.

Fiction
MAN GONE DOWN By Michael Thomas.
OUT STEALING HORSES By Per Petterson.
THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES By Roberto BolaƱo.
THEN WE CAME TO THE END By Joshua Ferris.
TREE OF SMOKE By Denis Johnson.

Nonfiction
IMPERIAL LIFE IN THE EMERALD CITY: Inside Iraq's Green Zone By Rajiv Chandrasekaran.
LITTLE HEATHENS: Hard Times and High Spirits on an Iowa Farm During the Great Depression. By Mildred Armstrong Kalish.
THE NINE: Inside the Secret World of the Supreme Court By Jeffrey Toobin.
THE ORDEAL OF ELIZABETH MARSH: A Woman in World History By Linda Colley.
THE REST IS NOISE: Listening to the Twentieth Century By Alex Ross.

Monday, November 26, 2007

Book Review: A Stranger on Earth

A Stranger on Earth: The Life and Work of Anna Kavan by Jeremy Reed

Let me say first that Jeremy Reed annoys me. Every time I turn around it seems he's written another book on a subject in which I am interested. From my desk I see two of his books on my shelves (Chasing Black Rainbows about Antonin Artaud and Delirium about Rimbaud), so I'm familiar with his work. But when I saw that he'd put out a book about Anna Kavan, someone hose work is relatively obscure, about whom there hadn't been a single book written when I first discovered her, I was annoyed. I've read David Callard's biography The Case of Anna Kavan, and she remained a mystery. I'd always imagined myself going down to the McFarlin Library at the University of Tulsa and pouring over her papers and fashioning my own biography of Anna Kavan. But then there's Jeremy Reed.

Reed is not an objective biographer, and that's okay with me. He clearly is impressed with Kavan's work and for someone who praises her work ever chance I get, I was happy to see someone else fawn over her phrases and to be enamoured with her character. He doesn't show her, though, from only one side. Reed, in fact, spends a fair amount of time on her problems with social interaction. She clearly had difficulty with people, though at times her circle of friends was quite large. Reed also charts the course that her writing took over the years, from writing, as Helen Ferguson, plain and not altogether really imaginative books, to the split with her former self, renaming herself Anna Kavan after one of her characters, and writing extremely imaginative, sometimes nightmarish, sometimes fantastical, always fantastic fiction. And he places it all within her biography, even getting into the difficulties she had at times with publishers and editors.

It is impossible to talk very long about Kavan without mentioning her life-long heroin habit. I'll call it habit over addiction because by all accounts she was in control over her use. Reed reasons her drug use as a mechanism for facing the world, for moderating her emotion. This is understandable. Self-medication is a method of coping for many creative types. It is this drug use that leads to her cult attraction. And one can easily wonder whether the drug is responsible for what is other worldly in her writing. I see her drug use as more than a tool for controlling her emotions, for keeping herself and the world in check. It was a method of escape. Just like the fast cars in her stories "Out and Away" and "Fog," it was a way of getting away, of escaping the real world. And so I think some of her writing came directly out of heroin use, which of course comes from an infinitely perceptive and creative personality.

Jeremy Reed seems extremely proud of himself. He spends time expounding on the drugs, clothes and music of sixties London with a time that says "I know all of this and more. And you don't." And much of these sorts of details are irrelevant to Kavan, being as she was cut off from the world outside her door. Reed also spends too much time focused on the fact that most of the men who Kavan kept as friends were homosexuals. While it is understandable that she might be drawn to these sorts of friendships out of safety, to avoid the men of the past, as a reader I'm not much interested in the sexuality, nor the style of dress, of her companions.

A cause for greater concern in this text, greater than my own dislike for Reed's focus at times, is his lifting from the work of others. As noted by Jennifer Sturm, credited in the acknowledgments of this biography and author of the introduction to Kavan's Guilty, in the comments of this blog, Reed appears to have pulled some things nearly verbatim from Sturm's work. In her essay, Anna Kavan Meets a New Zealand Writer on his Special Day, published in Kōtare, Sturm writes:

The couple forged a relationship in England in 1939, when Hamilton’s sister Margery began an affair with Kavan’s husband, Stuart Edmonds.

Reed writes:

In 1939 Anna met Ian Hamilton, with whom she was to travel extensively in the early war years, when Hamilton's sister Margery began an affair with Stuart Edmonds.

Sturm writes:

Hamilton was an expatriate Englishman who had travelled back to his homeland hoping to achieve some success with his anti-war three-act play Falls The Shadow , prophetically written in 1936....

Reed writes:

The conscientious objector Hamilton was an English expatriate who had returned to his birthplace from New Zealand hoping to score a hit with his anti-war three-act play Falls The Shadow, a work he had written in 1936....

Bothersome. I have to wonder if Reed didn't approach other sources in the same fashion.

As bothersome and annoying this biography was at times, I found it both illuminating and inspiring. I learned much that was not previously available about Kavan and her life, including details of her writing process, and it makes me want to re-read all of her work. Maybe next year.

Tuesday, November 20, 2007

National Book Award winners on NPR

NPR has a nice podcast of readings from the winners of the National Book Award. Damn that Denis Johnson book sounds good.

Also on NPR, Remembering the Turbulent Life of a 'Gonzo' Writer, interviews about Hunter S. Thompson.

Friday, November 16, 2007

Denis Johnson wins National Book Award - Yahoo! News

Congrats to Denis Johnson and his new novel Tree of Smoke for winning the National Book Award. This one is on my wish list, despite how difficult the NY Review of Books made it sound. I know it's no Jesus' Son, but obviously there are some things to like about it.

'Tree of Smoke' wins National Book Award - Yahoo! News

R.I.P. Ira Levin

The world would be a different place without Rosemary's Baby. Of course some credit goes to Roman Polansky.

Novelist, playwright Ira Levin dead at 78: Yahoo! News

R.I.P. Norman Mailer

I swear I'll get around to The Naked and the Dead at some point.

Author Norman Mailer dies at 84: Guardian Unlimited

Sunday, November 04, 2007

Book Review: Guilty

Guilty by Anna Kavan
The full manuscript of this novel was found among her papers in Tulsa, the library I'd been itching to get to from the moment I learned they were there. It is, though, not the best novel. I've read some of her work that didn't move me, but others are among the best books I've ever read. This one, though, is worse than unmoving. It is not fleshed out. It reads like a quick first draft. The first-person narration is distant, as if told from some far-off, removed location, long after the issues raised have been settled. While scenes are described in this way, we are never given that feeling of being there.
Maybe this impression comes from a bias. It is easy to believe that the pages put together to form this new "found" novel are not pages that Kavan ever intended to be published. It is easy to assume that these were not finished pages, the manuscript not a completed whole. The novel's introduction, by Jennifer Sturm (whose has commented here previously) , does an excellent job as serving as a Kavan primer and properly placing this novel among her others. What I want to hear is a little history, though. Had this manuscript ever passed before the eyes of any editors? Anyone at all? Peter Owen, her publisher, was also a good friend. Do we really think she would have had trouble getting anything of which she was proud published? My suspicion was that this book was one of those bottom-drawer manuscripts, ones we think we'll get back to, edit, and revise into the masterpiece we intended it to be.
The novel does redeem itself, though. Despite, the fact that Kavan relies here on a fever for the narrator's mind to loosen, for things to become surreal and ominous, the effect at times is in full force, the images precise and moving. The ending is saved from the downward spiral we see in much of Kavan's work, and realizations reached are realistic and believable. Some might say that a sort of tacked-on revelation happens here, but what I read was heart-felt.
I would hate, despite what I've said here, for this review to turn readers away from Anna Kavan. Her work is mostly brilliant. Even her earlier "county novels" display enough insight and terror to make them worthwhile. Her collections Asylum Piece and Julia and the Bazooka are indispensable.

Saturday, November 03, 2007

Movie Review: Into The Wild

Into The Wild

I had been holding off writing a review of this movie to give people enough time to see the limited release film before I colored anyone's view of the thing.

I usually like movies where the central character rejects society and ends up paying for it in some way with his life. But usually these people are artists, writers, musicians. I expected to like the movie despite the flaws in Krakauer's book. I was looking forward to seeing McCandless's story brought to life, McCandless given real and convincing characterization, but like the New Yorker explains, "Penn shoots the movie, however, in a facile, commercially lyrical style—he can’t stop swirling around mountaintops, as if he were selling S.U.V.s."

And these sorts of movies tend to be pretty melodramatic (think The Doors) and maybe incidentally campy. When I was younger and self destructive myself, I probably would have liked Into The Wild never the less. Director Sean Penn fails to see what was tragic in this story, emphasizing instead the beautiful and scenic. It is the innocence and naivete that makes McCandless's story compelling. But as the New Yorker said, "McCandless didn’t experience enough of life for his rejection of it to carry much weight, and Penn can’t see the egocentricity in a revolt that was as naĆÆve as it was grandly self-destructive."

Into The Wild is worth seeing, and it makes you want to get out of doors, but as Krakauer's book failed, Penn's moving leaves us feeling a little silly for even caring.

Tuesday, October 30, 2007

Tancredo Out...of Congress

It's rare that my Congressman, Tom Tancredo, ever does anything that fills my heart with joy, but after the Rockies lost the World Series Tom "Let's-bomb-Mecca" Tancredo announced that he will not seek reelection in Congress. It would be nice if he would give us his embarrassing Presidential bid as well, but Tommy's just not that smart.

Here's the news from the Washington Post, Tancredo Won't Seek New Term, and here's a site of a fellow constituent who has been keeping tabs on the man, Tancredo Watch.

Adios, Tom.

Update: Wonkette's take.

The five-term congressman represents a “solidly Republican” Denver suburb that kept electing him no matter what crazy gibberish he spouted, so Colorado’s 6th District will presumably elect another nut. Maybe the next one will be worried about space aliens.

Thursday, October 18, 2007

“I would rather dig my friend Ray Carver out of the ground.”

The Real Carver: Expansive or Minimal - New York Times:

"Tess Gallagher, the widow of Raymond Carver, one of the most celebrated American short-story writers of the 20th century, is spearheading an effort to publish a volume of 17 original Carver stories whose highly edited versions were published in “What We Talk About When We Talk About Love,” his breakout 1981 book."

Again, we're looking at the role Gordon Lish played in the work in Raymond Carver and what Carver himself would have wanted. There's little doubt that Lish had a signifcant role in the so-called minimalism of Carver. One need only reference the other writers he edited to see the similarities. But does this mean that the Carver we know and love is not the "real" Carver. No. The core is Carver. The story is Carver. Even if the sentence level edits by Lish were significant. I've seen a copy somewhere of a manuscript page with Lish's edits all over it, and if I were the writer I'd be a little depressed about the changes.

As the article reveals, and we are reminded, Carver was far from pleased and tried to get definative versions of some of his stories released.

Carver’s later editor, Gary Fisketjon of Knopf, which holds the copyright to “What We Talk About,” is deeply opposed to the idea.

“I would rather dig my friend Ray Carver out of the ground,” he said. “I don’t understand what Tess’s interest in doing this is except to rewrite history. I am appalled by it.”

Carver, who died in 1988 at 50, had tried to set the record straight himself. He restored and republished five of the stories from “What We Talk About” in magazines or later collections. In “Where I’m Calling From,” a volume of new and selected stories that Mr. Fisketjon helped edit and that was published the year Carver died, three of the stories that had appeared in “What We Talk About” — “So Much Water So Close to Home,” “The Bath” (retitled “A Small, Good Thing”) and “Distance” — appeared in restored form. But Carver also included four other stories from “What We Talk About” in the versions edited by Mr. Lish.


As far as a new collection of earlier drafts, I'm all for it. Why not release different versions? How different is it from the idea of publishing Kerouac's original scroll version of On The Road? I would buy it, even though I own the originals. Frankly, I'm surprised Knopf wouldn't publish it, at least so that they would have some control over it. Putting it out by another publisher guarantees that it competes with Knopf's editions.

The whole Lish issue takes some fun out of reading Carver, but they are still brilliant stories.

Wednesday, October 17, 2007

Book Review: The Optimist's Daughter

The Optimist's Daughter by Eudora Welty

I found the novel pleasingly simple, told linearly, from a single close third-person perspective, surrounding a single event, taking place over only a few days. It was reminiscent of Alice Munro, or even some Anna Kavan, with its aging, solitary female character. And these are writers whose work I enjoy very much.

There was also a timelessness here that made it difficult to pin down the era without rereading the details closely. The language is simple, the story is simple, even the drama within in muted.

Sometimes there are books you like for no particular reason, no single, obvious reason. This is one of those books.

Thursday, October 11, 2007

The National Book Award Nominees

The National Book Foundation:

FICTION
Mischa Berlinski, Fieldwork
Lydia Davis, Varieties of Disturbance
Joshua Ferris, Then We Came to the End
Denis Johnson, Tree of Smoke
Jim Shepard, Like You’d Understand, Anyway

Some out there don't seem too impressed with this list, but I think there is some admirable work here. In fact, I bought a bargain copy of Ferris's book this week and it sits on my desk awaiting my attention.

Oh, and what about nonfiction?

NONFICTION
Edwidge Danticat, Brother, I’m Dying
Christopher Hitchens, God Is Not Great: How Religion Poisons Everything
Woody Holton, Unruly Americans and the Origins of the Constitution
Arnold Rampersad, Ralph Ellison: A Biography
Tim Weiner, Legacy of Ashes: The History of the CIA

Yes, you read that right: Hitch. Oh, lord.

Lessing wins Nobel Prize in Literature

Lessing wins Nobel Prize in Literature - Yahoo! News: "STOCKHOLM, Sweden - English writer Doris Lessing, who ended her formal schooling at age 13 and went on to write novels that explored relationships between the genders and races, won the 2007 Nobel Prize in literature on Thursday. "

I am still haunted by one short story I read by Doris Lessing where a young white girl meets an African king on the road and he moves out of the way for her to pass. I can't seem to find that story again, but it gave me a great respect for Doris Lessing. Congratulations.

Sunday, October 07, 2007

Book Review: Into the Wild

Into the Wild by Jon Krakauer

With the release of the movie, I thought it worthwhile to read the book before the movie possibly ruined it for me. I have to say that I expected more from the book. Krakauer has a prominent name, the book did well, but I was less than impressed with the writing. It bore traces of padding, as if he was looking for filler to make the book longer. The book is filled with other, shorter narratives concerning other adventurers, including some of Krakauer's own experiences, but none of these seemed to address what more interesting to me, the character of Chris McCandless.

I don't know anyone who hasn't had that urge to skip it all and walk out on society. My own past is filled with those sorts of plans. I don't find McCandless unique in this. Where I find him most interesting is in his dealings with others. He seems to have had a profound effect on most of the people met. I know that in non-fiction the author is limited in how he could draw out these sorts of things. Krakauer left it mostly to direct quotes. That may be compelling but not explicit.

On the issue of McCandless's recklessness, I too am a little torn. I understand how the whole idea would rile Alaskans who understand the challenges and requirements of the wild. To shirk preparedness is to disrespect it. Or maybe he thought it was easy, when others knew how damn hard it was. I understand this, but I don't think there was any willful disrespect. I think he was a victim of his own idealism.

Krakauer's writing is sloppy and flawed. He needlessly repeats himself or steals phrases from his own quotes. And then other times he tries out some more creative sentences using words that are striking and out of place. The book doesn't even seem to progress in any cohesive way. The only thing that keeps you reaching is to find out the circumstance of McCandless's death.

As much as I disliked the book, I am looking forward to the movie, if only for a real dramatization of McCandless's story.

Monday, October 01, 2007

Book Review: Birds of America

Birds of America by Lorrie Moore
Sometimes you know a writer's name, you know you've heard good things about them, but you don't know what you've ever read anything by them. This was the case for me with Lorrie Moore. So, when I stumbled across this title in a used book store, I figured it was time.
As I put down the book, though, I was not altogether impressed. First, why put the most depressing stories at the end? Because if they'd have come early on in the book, no one would make it through. And what a way to leave the reader. And what came before the final two stories was not all that original.
I love the modern short story, full of disjointed relationships, eclectic characters, sarcastic and sardonic, but without profundity nothing earnest is revealed. Not that the stories were bad, or not interesting even, but they just didn't stand out to me.

Saturday, September 29, 2007

A look at Anna Kavan's new book

Anna Kavan's "found" novel Guilty comes out this week in the US and Strange Horizons has a look at it and Kavan's most popular novel, Ice. Reviewer/blogger Abigail Nussbaum appropriately praises Ice, though she reveals some awkwardness in Guilty. And she also appropriately questions the idea of publishing an author's work posthumously.

On top of reissuing Ice and several of her other novels, Kavan's publishers have also posthumously brought to light a "rediscovered" work, Guilty. There is a natural tendency to distrust such novels, with readers and reviewers making the reasonable argument that, had the novel been finished and worthy of publication, it would have seen the light of day within the author's lifetime. To a certain extent, Guilty seems to justify this bias. It gives off the impression of not having cooked quite long enough, and there is a dissonance between its first two thirds and final third that suggests that a final rewrite might have been planned and never carried out. Nevertheless, it is by no means an unworthy read.

I have a feeling that I won't have the same problem with the novel. Kavan's early work was full of coming of age stories, but her later work was more surreal. I've always wanted one that combined the two.

(Thanks to Matt Cheney for pointing the way to this essay. He also has some work at Strange Horizons.)

Hitchens doesn't like Philip Roth, either

Surprise.

Our good friend and chain-smoking grump Christopher Hitchens has a review of Philip Roth's Exit Ghost in the Atlantic, and it goes, in part, like this:

As with Exit Ghost's immediate predecessor, Everyman, one gets an ever-stronger impression that Roth has degraded the Eros-Thanatos dialectic of some of his earlier work and is now using his fiction, first to kill off certain characters and to shoot the wounded, and second to give himself something to masturbate about.

And this:

The dull reported speech with which Roth economizes (so much easier to do the background of WASP-dread secondhand, rather than evoking it directly as he used to do) is limpid and engaging when set beside the great swaths of soliloquy-as-dialogue in which the remainder of Exit Ghost is bogged down.

And it ends like this:

When Raymond Chandler felt things going limp in a story, he would have the door open and then it would be: Enter a man carrying a gun. When Roth is in the same fix, we know that some luckless goy chick is about to get it in the face. Exit reader.

And now you don't have to bother reading the review.

Monday, September 24, 2007

Submission Titles

The Virginia Quarterly Review » Blog » Titles We Have Known

VQR reveals:

The ten most common titles of submissions that we’ve received in the past year:
Remember
Smoke
Revelation
Work
Grace
Waiting
Insomnia
Voyeur
Butterfly
Reunion


Remember, there is no such thing as an original idea. But at least try for a more interesting title.

Saturday, September 22, 2007

Into the Wild, the movie

So, Sean Penn has made a movie out of a book I've never read, Into the Wild. Not something I would usually have a comment on, but the book has had an effect on some people I know. And the movie looks good. Of course, limited release means that it doesn't play in some place like Denver. But there are reviews out there, so I can pretend like I've seen it. And Krakauer and Penn were on Oprah, if you're into that kind of thing.

Me, I'm also still holding on for No Country for Old Men.

Monday, September 17, 2007

NPR : Famous Authors' Rejection Letters Surface

NPR : Famous Authors' Rejection Letters Surface: "Jack Kerouac, George Orwell and Sylvia Plath are just a few of the authors whose books were turned down by the Alfred A. Knopf publishing house. Researchers going through the Knopf archives have come across their rejection letters, as well as a few others. "

We always like these sorts of stories, don't we?

"Yes, someday they will discover what a genius I am. And they will be sorry."

Saturday, September 15, 2007

Book Review: Ulysses

Ulysses by James Joyce

Who on earth thought this was the best English language book ever written? Were they so intimidated by Joyce's smarts that they didn't want the world to think they might be stupid because they didn't enjoy the book? Ooh, look how he mirrors the Odyssey and how this chapter shows the evolution of the English language. Congrats, Mr. Joyce, you sure know a lot. But you also know how to write a good story. Why don't you go back to that?

There are some amazing passages. Some funny and quotable phrases. But I found the whole thing annoying. And I loved Dubliners. And I will still read Portrait, but there's no way I'm reading Finnegan's Wake after this. Maybe we would have been better off if they would have kept the book banned. There were parts that were surprisingly offensive, but I was more offended by the meaningless absurdity in it.

The book was so difficult and without reward. I don't recommend it. In fact, I advise against reading it. Sure, Joyce is brilliant, but I want to read a good book.

Friday, September 07, 2007

On Formatting

I'm busy banging in the last twenty pages of my manuscript and I got to thinking about formatting. I tend to work in Garamond, a nice, under-stated font, that is pretty small, and won't eat up a lot of paper. And with maybe twenty pages of hand-written text still to type in, I'll end up with around three hundred pages of manuscript with Garamond.

Looking around, though, I see that most people suggest that a manuscript be in a non-proportional font like Courier, at 12-point. 12-point? Really. So I go back and reformat what I have in the system and it adds nearly a hundred pages to my text. And it looks hideous. It looks like I'm some neanderthal working a century or so in the past. Even my old Brother electric typewriter didn't use a 12-point font. With this format there are only ten to twelve words a line. It makes every sentence look extremely declarative.

I'm reluctant to do it, though it looks like I'm going to end up with a whopper of a stack of paper when I print this thing out.

Thursday, September 06, 2007

I've always opposed autobiographical fiction

Polish author jailed over killing he used as plot News Guardian Unlimited Books

"A Polish pulp fiction writer was sentenced to 25 years in jail yesterday for his role in a grisly case of abduction, torture and murder, a crime that he then used for the plot of a bestselling thriller."

Monday, September 03, 2007

I did it

I finished the project. Two hundred and seventy three handwritten pages and the first draft is complete. While I definitely feel like patting myself on the back, it is not a wholly satisfying feeling. A million doubts persist.

Endings are tricky and found myself questioning every aspect of mine. How much denouement is necessary? How much unravelling do you need? Is it necessary to tell you how everything turned out for everyone? This idea is particularly trouble some for this project because I have a whole slew of major characters whose fates are not necessarily intertwined. I don't know that it's necessary, that it is worth it to visit each of them in some post-climactic states some months after the peak events. What I've chosen to do is to sum up with the one character whose nose is in everyone's business to begin with. And through her we learn the fates of each of them. Well, the perceived fate, at least. I don't know if this is the right choice. I don't know if this closes things properly. I don't know that I could even tell without going back to the beginning.

And now I'm on to new chores. I think my revision process is going to be particularly arduous because of this ensemble. Each characters' chapters has a different voice, a different tone. And of course each character has his own arc, each changes in his own way. Some more than others. So, I think the thing to do is to read each of these character's chapters as a whole, to look for consistency in voice, details, themes, and to be sure he progresses like I believe he does. After doing this for each, I'll need to go back to the beginning, put everything back in its place, and see how the thing reads as a whole. I think the whole thing will take some time.

I am excited, though, to write some new things. I'd like to look at short fiction again and I want to work on some nonfiction. All told, finishing feels freeing, but there is a lot of work to do. Though, I am drafting a letter to an agent in the back of my head.

Saturday, September 01, 2007

Finish the Damn Thing

That's it. That's the goal. I have a three-day weekend and I'm going to finish "the project." I should only have two short chapters to go and I just want to get it done. It's easy to anxious about finishing. I want to get it all right, but it's never going to be right the first time through. If I put off finishing because I'm waiting for just the right piece of imagery or dialogue or something to enter my head that is somehow going to make it all right, I'll be waiting a long time. And those sorts of things really only come one the page is before me, when I'm in the process of writing. There's no point in waiting.

So, I've blocked out some time, excused myself from some family activities, and I'm going to write the ending. But then my mind starts thinking about revision, how to go about it, how long it might take, and I start to think about who I know who might be willing to read a first draft. Look out, it might be you.

Anyway, off to work.

Tuesday, August 28, 2007

Rejection Collection - CutBank

This tasteful rejection from CutBank for my story "Those Afternoons" arrived in the mail yesterday (9 mos. after it was submitted) to remind me that it is time to send out another round of submissions. Most of the lit journals are back in action and accepting submissions again, so I'd better put some fiction in their hands. I came close last season, I felt, with some very positive rejections. Hopefully I will have some success this go around.

Sunday, August 26, 2007

Man leaves dead mother in armchair for two years

Man leaves dead mother in armchair for two years - Yahoo! News:

"The man told police he could not bear to move his mother and said he never again entered the room where she was seated."

Friday, August 24, 2007

Back to Nature

We're crazy to do it with two young children, but we're going camping this weekend. I'm looking forward to that sort of escape, but since the whole house was up last night at three in the morning after strong thunderstorms passed over, I'm thinking I'm going to get much rest.

It has been a slow month, I realize. I pledge to get back into the swing of things by next month. It's only right that we slow down some in August, and things have been quiet overall, but I have some posts coming on novel revision and the idea of revealing secrets in non-fiction when your potential audience includes your wife and children. And I'm close to finishing "the project."

Litblogger on NPR

The Millions' Max Magee made an appearance on NPR last weekend identifiying his summer reads. The blog is one of my daily stops. So congrats, Max.

Saturday, August 18, 2007

Sylvia Plath, artiste

One should wonder if this is really a good thing.

Sylvia Plath's unseen art, discovered in the attic

Paintings and drawings by Sylvia Plath, many of which have never been seen before, are to be published in October to mark the 75th anniversary of the birth of the American poet and novelist.

So, are they vultures simply looking to cash in, as some might say? Will they bring out her underthings for auction next?

'On the Road' Again

Viking is reissuing Kerouac's On The Road and the NYTBR felt the need to again reexamine the book, the beats, all the associated crap. But I swear that I read this article not six months ago.

I was under-whelmed when I read it (late) in my early twenties, and I'm not guessing I would think any more of it if I read it today. And who would really think the unedited 'scroll' version would be any better?

Friday, August 17, 2007

Saturday, August 11, 2007

Pity the Adverb

I've never been one to follow that rule about eliminating adverbs. Sure, they sometimes describe too much. Especially when it comes to dialogue. But am I really to believe that they shouldn't be used elsewhere. What if I want to describe how someone walked across the room?

He moved vigorously towards the bar.

He moved towards the bar with vigor.

He moved towards the bar.

Which works better? Maybe if the last sentence had been set up with something about his general haste then it would be the best one. I think, though, that there are times when the first sentence is not only accurate but when it is the right sentence.

The blog at the Oxford University Press (via Ed) writes the adverbs epitaph:

The adverb is an endangered species in Modern English. One should neither wring one’s hands nor weep on hearing this news.
...
During his visit to Minneapolis after the collapse of the bridge, President Bush said: “We want to get this bridge rebuilt as quick as possible.” This is not a Bushism: few people would have used quickly here despite the fact that my computer highlighted the word and suggested the form with -ly.
...
Individual cases are hard to explain, and valid generalizations are hardly earned, but the tendency is obvious: adverbs are on the retreat in Modern English. Do it real quick has become the norm. We want to get this bridge rebuilt as quick as possible is a borderline case (quickly seems to be more appropriate). But it is enough to listen to the people around us, to observe adjectives replacing adverbs. A boy of ten comments on the speech of a person with an accent: “You are talking funny.” As ill luck would have it, the adverb funnily is rare, so that the boy had little choice. To a conservative taste he did it real good is a bit too much, but I fully realized what odds adverbs are facing only when I read in an undergraduate paper: “She sings beautiful.” On the same day I heard: “She is fragile and walks slow.” Another century or so, and the difference between those who speak good and those who speak bad will disappear. When that day comes, what will happen to the following exchange between Lady Bracknell and her nephew? “Good-afternoon, dear Algernon, I hope you are behaving very well. –I am feeling very well, Aunt Augusta. –That’s not quite the same thing. In fact the two things rarely go together.” It looks as though adjectives and adverbs also prefer to part company.

Maybe someone who has studied the way language changes over the centuries can appreciate that dropping the old -ly suffix is not necessarily a bad thing, but I've spent time as a tutor and misuse raises the hairs on the back of my neck. Of course, things are flexible in creative work, but I will defend the use of the adverb in writing and in speech. And I'm likely to correct you when you are wrong.

The Summer Reading of our Sec. of Ed.

Now, I have to admit that I went to the NPR story on the Secretary of Education's summer reading choices looking to make fun of her. As the picture above exemplifies, Bush has the hots for Sec. Spellings and I suppose I should have remembered that he likes 'em smarter than him. Look at Laura. Of course that's not really asking too much.
So, I expected fully chick-lit or plot-driving, substance-deprived thrillers, instead she smartly identified books being read in many book clubs this summer: Eat, Pray, Love by Elizabeth Gilbert and A Thousand Splendid Suns by Khaled Hosseini. And she gets extra points for also including The Master Butcher's Singing Club by Louise Erdrich.
It turns out she might be a little better than the last education secretary who called teachers' unions terrorists. I'll just have to save my ridicule for the other hundred incompetent people that surround our President.

Hitchens, the Great Literary Critic

Inspired by the absurd choice by the NYTBR to have Christopher Hitchens review the new Harry Potter, Ed Champion gives us Hitch on "Green Eggs and Ham."

I was in the children’s section of a Barnes & Noble in Stanford, Calif., shaking down the dregs from my flask and firing up a cigarette for fortitude when I was kicked out by the employees. They told me that I could not smoke or drink and that I was an evil man for practicing my habits in an apparently sacrosanct section of the store. They didn’t know I was a writer of some note, that I was the Hitch and I could write them all under the table. Literally and figuratively. I then proceeded to berate the idiot behind the counter because it amused me. He could not identify Khruschev, even when I tapped the sad sod repeatedly on the head with my heavy shoe to help him get the hint. He called the police. An arrest and a court appearance later, and I was on the phone with Sam Tanenhaus, seeing if I could write a piece that would pay my bail. He told me that I should write about Green Eggs and Ham. I could write it completely drunk if I liked. I wouldn’t be edited.

Hitch is a parody of himself and, as absurd as it might be that NYTBR might would choose this caricature to give us his self-righteous and self-aggrandising take on the cultural phenomenon of Harry Potter, I find some humor in it. And of course Ed just exploits it all.

Saturday, July 28, 2007

No, I've not been tied up reading the new Harry Potter, though I am disappointed that my wife bought the darn book and helped that woman's first week numbers. Silly, Ms. Rowling, thinks she owns the world. I am still slogging through Ulysses and it's a chore. I'm turning to read books on economics to relieve the strain. And there was a promotion at work (the real world, you know), which means a fancy new title and a whole raft-full of new responsibilities. Oh, and there's children, a book I'm trying to finish, and a vacation coming next week.

Sorry for the light posting, but it's summer, you know. Get away from the computer and go play.

Saturday, July 21, 2007

Ulysses - First Impressions

Okay, so I've done it. I actually started reading James Joyce's Ulysses. I've got my Ulysses Annotated, and my bookmark to Sparknotes, and I'm nearly a hundred pages in. First let me say that I agree with this quote by Joyce in Ulysses Annotated:

I've put in so many enigmas and puzzles that it will keep the professors busy for centuries arguing over what I meant, and that's the only way of insuring one's immortality.


That sounds about right. It does seem to me like Joyce was showing off. But I cannot worry about every little thing in the text that I don't know. I would never finish if I took the time to look them all up. I'm looking at it like all those extras add a little color but are more or less extraneous. So, I'll ignore most of that and see if I miss anything.

Besides the allusions and other nonsense, Joyce spends so much time in the minds of these characters, every disjointed sentence, every meaningless thought, that there is little space for story. I wouldn't mind a little coherence, nor quotation marks to help separate what someone is saying from the nonsense they are thinking.

If this wasn't supposed to be the best English language book ever, I really wouldn't be too interested in reading farther. Though, I am waiting for the novel to redeem itself.

New Anna Kavan Novel Coming

As learned from the UK's Guardian's book blog, a manuscript was discovered among Anna Kavan's papers at the University of Tulsa. Of course, I've been looking for a reason to get down there and go through them myself. And then maybe I would have been the one to discover this book.

Anyway, the publisher, Peter Owen Publishers, describe the book as such:



Set in an unspecified but eerily familiar time and landscape, Guilty is narrated by Mark. He begins the novel as a young boy whose father has just returned from war. In spite of being garlanded as a hero, Mark's father declares himself a pacifist and is immediately reviled in a country still suffering from the divisions of war. When his father is forced into exile Mark meets Mr Spector, a shady figure who from then on is a dominant force in Mark's life, seeing him through his schooling, employment and even finding him accommodation. When Mark tries to break off with Mr Spector in order to pursue an engagement with the beautiful but docile Carla his life begins to unravel. Thwarted at every turn by a Kafkaesque bureaucracy he begins to fall prey to the machinations and insecurities of his guilt-ridden mind.

Sounds like traditional Kavan to me. I can't wait to read it. I've actually been wondering what Kavan I was going to re-read this year, and now I have something new to read. The trouble is that it is being released in the UK now, and we won't see it here until October. Sounds like eBay time.

Sunday, July 15, 2007

Book Review: Samuel Johnson Is Indignant

Samuel Johnson Is Indignant by Lydia Davis

I was drawn to this book because of an interview on KCRW's Bookworm, where she talked about translating Proust and read stories, like this one (quoted in its entirety), "Companion":

We are sitting here together, my digestion and I. I am reading a book and it is working away at the lunch I ate a little while ago.

Her stories range from short word-play or prose poems, to longer ones that vary greatly in style. Davis is clearly versatile. Her work on Proust, translations that are much more literal though maybe not necessarily more accurate than the C. K. Scott Moncrieff versions. I will certainly add her translations to my wish list.

None of these stories moved me in any fundamental way. None are likely to linger for any length of time. They were, though, a breezy respite to some of the longer weightier things I've been reading.

Saturday, July 14, 2007

Joyce Carol Oates on Amnesia

In Lest We Forget at The New York Review of Books Joyce Carol Oates takes a look at amnesia fiction. Though her focus is on The Raw Shark Texts by Steven Hall and Remainder by Tom McCarthy, she makes mention of The Vintage Book of Amnesia, which I have to recommend because the anthology contains a story by Anna Kavan. I first stumbled upon Kavan in another anthology published decades ago, and I hoped that her inclusion in The Vintage Book of Amnesia, edited by Jonathan Letham, might gain her some attention. So, Oates doesn't mention Kavan, but it doesn't mean I can't.

Friday, July 13, 2007

Book Review: The Plot Against America

The Plot Against America by Philip Roth

Roth has created an extremely ambitious novel that pushes the memory and the possibilities of history. A semi-autobiographical novel that takes place in a time that doesn't exist seems like a strange premise, but Roth is convincing in his telling of this imagined history. Perhaps too convincing. Roth spends so much time covering facts and information from the political and historical context that the actual human story suffers for it. We care less about little Philip than we do about how in the world their are going to oust the fascist Lindbergh.

The novel disappoints for other reasons as well. The key moments in the novel seem to have written around, the actual drama circumvented, and we're left with again with the drab historical or the "oh yeah, that happened." Never the less, the novel does make clear how little things might have to change for things in this country to really come off the rails. And it was damn frightening just for that.

Saturday, July 07, 2007

Character Free Will

You always hear writers say that often stories write themselves, or that characters do what they want. It is funny how true this is. I'm working on a scene now where I was planning for my character to redeem himself, at least in some small way. But he won't do it. He resists. He is hardened character, turning harder when given the opportunity for a bit of empathy and understanding. What this means for him I'm not sure. How will he turn out in the end? Will he come around and soften up? Will he realize what is important in life, or has he closed himself off for good? How will this effect my conclusion?

How much free will do characters really have? I suppose that it's likely that the more you know a character, the more established she or he is in a story, the more likely it is that the character will find his or her on way, while you just drag your pen along to their whim. Just starting a story you might even really know what drives the character yet, and so bending him to your will is easier. Two hundred and forty handwritten pages into this project and I can barely rein my characters in. The good thing is that I'm surprised by them.

Friday, July 06, 2007

Dinner guest finds host's wife, son in freezer

Dinner guest finds host's wife, son in freezer - Yahoo! News

A Belgian man appeared in court on Friday after a woman at his dinner party found the bodies of his wife and stepson in the freezer as she put away the leftovers, prosecutors said.

What do I need to say?

You Must Have Read This

As part of NPR's "You Must Read This" series, author Nathan Englander suggests reading Denis Johnson's Jesus' Son:

Someone — I can't remember who, and don't remember when — gave me a Xeroxed copy of the first story, "Car Crash While Hitchhiking."

It was your workshop professor, genius.

He says quite frankly, "And you, you ridiculous people, you expect me to help you." But we do, Denis Johnson, we do.

I always read that as Johnson giving the reader the finger.

Seriously, this book is a must-read. It is as essential on your shelf of American Fiction as Hemingway's short stories or anything by Raymond Carver. If you haven't already, read Denis Johnson. You will not like everything he writes and sometimes you feel like he is pulling back down a dark hole that you already climbed out of at least once in your life, but he opens up storytelling in ways previously unseen.

Tuesday, July 03, 2007

Bush's Birthday Gift to the Country: The Commutation of Libby

As we all prepare to celebrate the Fourth of July with its various tributes to the country's history, while flags hang in every main street, and we plan our barbecue and fireworks celebrations, President Bush has chosen to celebrate the nation's birthday by giving the middle finger to justice and the rule of law by commuting the sentence of I. Lewis Libby.

Formerly the Chief of Staff to the second most powerful man in the country, the Vice President (though we can debate that he might actually be more powerful than the President), "Scooter" Libby was sentenced to two and half years for lying to Federal investigators. That lies would emanate from this White House should be no surprise, but that they would show such disdain for the law and the American people it is meant to protect should outrage us. Never mind the circumstances of the investigation, though what were behind his lies we don't know, a man in such a high position should not be lying and obstructing justice under any circumstances.

While I am not surprised by Bush's action, disdain for the will of the people and the entire notion of justice being par for the course, I am sickened by it. Libby should have served his time, simply to show that no man is above the law. But renegade justice, justice without courts or trials or even access to lawyers, is the way this Administration prefers things. Commuting Libby's sentence proves that Bush cares more about protecting those around him than he does about the American people.

So, as you gather with friends this Independence Day, think of the great will of the nation's founders, the signers of the Declaration of Independence or even the crafters of the Constitution, and think about how far we've come. And thank President Bush for his gift to the country, for its transparency and for proving to the nation that he is just the man we think he is.

Saturday, June 30, 2007

Where is the good rock novel?

Why is it that no one has produced a convincing rock novel? Or, at least, I sure haven't read one yet. This article (Resisting the rock-novel demon) seems to suggest that authors and readers just don't get the rock and roll lifestyle. I think it may be difficult to capture every aspect of what it is like to be a musician, let alone pull of the sense of build-up and let-down that comes with it, but there's no reason that a character can't have a "career" as a musician, just as he might a street sweeper. It is part of who he is, helps to determine how he views the world.

Or maybe it's just that the novelists that have attempted it are merely trying to live out their own rock n'roll dreams. Or the article suggests this:

A criticism that has often been levelled at the rock novel is that, because the literati are largely upper-middle-class, they haven’t ever experienced the struggle and graft that go with dreaming of a headline slot at Glastonbury. This is almost certainly rubbish, partly because the middle class has just as much historical right to comment on rock existence as the working class, and partly because musicians are, on the whole, roughly 13½ times lazier than novelists.

I'm not sure what that has to do with anything (or what it has to say about writers who are musicians).

Florida man's headache mystery solved by a bullet

Florida man's headache mystery solved by a bullet

MIAMI (Reuters) - A Florida man awoke with a severe headache and asked his wife to drive him to a hospital, where doctors found a bullet lodged behind his right ear, sheriff's deputies said.

"The nurse looked at him and said, 'It appears that you've been shot,'" the Fort Pierce Tribune quoted St. Lucie County Sheriff Ken Mascara as saying. "And he said, 'No way.'"

The wife, April Moylan, fled the emergency room when the bullet was discovered but later told deputies she had accidentally shot her husband as he slept early on Tuesday. She was jailed on a weapons violation charge while deputies pursued additional charges.

The husband, 45-year-old Michael Moylan, woke up with a head pain so severe he suspected he was having an aneurysm and asked his wife to take him to the emergency room, deputies said.

They arrested the wife after obtaining a search warrant and finding a gun and bloody rags in the couple's home near the Atlantic coastal town of Port St. Lucie. The husband was hospitalized in stable condition.

Saturday, June 23, 2007

If you're wondering why posting is light...

...blame this guy.

Book Review: Invisible Man

Invisible Man by Ralph Ellison

Some books you wonder why it took you so long to get around to. How come no ever told me how good this book was? How come it never came up in discussion about existential literature? Ellison's narrator is the underground man, pushed aside by society. It reads in many ways, especially in the beginning like Dostoyevsky's Notes from Underground. He lives a life of absurdity, guided by happenstance, uncontrolled contingencies. He is not incapable of action, but chooses in bad faith to be a yes-man, to go where he is led. And the whole time he is trying to sort out who he is, never really learning that it up to him to determine that.

Ellison deals with race in a way that makes me think of Frantz Fanon or Ngugi. Race is an excuse for marginalization. He's not casting blame except for those who deserve it. Race is circumstance, part of identity as any other circumstance of birth, but it is not completely definitive. When Ellison deals with it this way race is not by itself the major issue of the book.

The narrator, though, is frustratingly passive. We're given glimpse of his abilities, but he is guided by others and by contingency. Even when he has his existential epiphany in the end, finally sorting out that it is up to him to determine his identity, that only through action does he make himself, it is weak, too late, and again set off by something incidental and absurd.

The novel is a thoroughly psychological novel, with first person narration that allows us to see the tumbling around of his thoughts. With it's existential and political themes, I can't believe no one has ever recommended this book to me. I would have thanked them for it.

Saturday, June 16, 2007

The Three-Quarters Done Complex

A funny thing happened when I got about three-quarters of the way through this first draft of my "project." I had to (sort of) map out where I was going near the end so that I know the critical scenes and could time things, but now that I know more or less what's going to happen, my interest is beginning to wane. I'm not sure if it was simply that I knew what was coming, thus killing my own curiosity, or if it maybe was a fear of hitting that end. Fear of finishing a draft, which is a strange sense of loss or maybe fear of having to get it all right. I think it was the latter.

I know my basic goals for the project, I know what I want to happen for specific characters, and I know the culminating events, but the pressure to get it all right as I come speeding to the end is a bit much. The speed is part of it as well. I've begun to see the destination, and instead of enjoying the journey, I'm hauling ass to get there. And I worry about spoiling the sense of things.

I've seen a lot of good novels go bad at this point (Jennifer Egan's "Look At Me" comes to mind), so I'm especially conscious of what's happening. I believe in the inevitability of what happens in fiction. Even what's shocking should feel in some way as if was inevitable. The important thing is to stay true to the story told so far, and to the characters within.

With all of this in mind, I really fell like the pressure's on (I'm also coming up on one year since I began this draft, which was my de facto deadline). I think I have the ways to see myself through. I have many things yet to discover, I believe I can avoid the deus ex machina, and I know to watch my pace. Maybe, though, there's someone out there with a little more experience what might want to share their battle stories, and let us all learn from your experience. Any Walter Moselys want to weigh in?

Friday, June 15, 2007

On Summer Reading

"I'm sorry, sir, but Dostoyevsky is not considered summer reading. I'll have to ask you to come with me."

While everyone is out there pushing summer reading lists that are full of fluff, easy reads, I wonder why we don't use these free summer days to read harder books. The rest of the year is full of other obligations, impending holidays, taxes due, and the like, so why not settle into the book you've put off? Say... Ulysses?

It seems to me it's a good time to sit out on the porch until the sun goes down while reading something a little challenging. So, tell me, who's up the challenge? what are you going to read?

Some suggestions:

The Brothers Karamazov
Moby Dick
Ulysses
Middlemarch
A Tale of Two Cities
Anna Karenina
Underworld
One Hundred Years of Solitude
Remembrance of Things Past

More Blog Resentment

The Scorn of the Literary Blog - June 12, 2007 - The New York Sun:

"In fact, despite what the bloggers themselves believe, the future of literary culture does not lie with blogs — or at least, it shouldn't. The blog form, that miscellany of observations, opinions, and links, is not well-suited to writing about literature, and it is no coincidence that there is no literary blogger with the audience and influence of the top political bloggers. For one thing, literature is not news the way politics is news — it doesn't offer multiple events every day for the blogger to comment on. For another, bitesized commentary, which is all the blog form allows, is next to useless when it comes to talking about books. Literary criticism is only worth having if it at least strives to be literary in its own right, with a scope, complexity, and authority that no blogger I know even wants to achieve. The only useful part of most book blogs, in fact, are the links to long-form essays and articles by professional writers, usually from print journals."

NYTBR's Got a Blog?

Wait, I thought blogs were killing book sections. Didn't NYTBR editor Sam Tanehaus say as much? Then why is Dwight Garner writing a new blog for the Times, titled Paper Cuts?

Now, I don't hold as much against Tanenhaus and the Book Review as others, though I think hostility towards blogs is misplaced. I also don't see blogs, even the best of them, as replacements for good print reviews. And, in the same way, I don't see how a NY Times version of a blog is going to take anything away from the good book bloggers out there.

All this being said, it is a pretty boring blog. Even though he started strong with a post on old book ads (where this ad of dapper Cormac McCarthy was nicked).

Saturday, June 09, 2007

My Man McCarthy

It's funny how inspirational it is to hear a writer you admire talk about writing. And for that writer like Cormac McCarthy, who has barely voiced a word about his craft, it seems particularly special.

Oprah looked intimidated by this laid-back author who doesn't care about fame and doesn't care that her magic hand is going to lead to millions more reading his book. McCarthy was relaxed and talked pretty openly, and for a man in advanced years he wasn't set on many issues. When asked about his faith he responded, "Depends on which day you ask me."

It was a coup and worth watching without a doubt, though I wish someone would post a transcript or the video on YouTube. I wonder, though, how much she had to fork over to the Santa Fe Institute for McCarthy to be willing to do the interview.

There is video, exclusive video even, on Oprah's site, though you have to join the book club to view it. I'm still reluctant to do that.

If you missed it, here are some articles:
Cormac McCarthy gives first-ever TV interview to Oprah
We watch as Oprah, Cormac McCarthy mix it up
Cormac McCarthy Bombs on ‘The Oprah Winfrey Show’ - What were they expecting, exactly?

Mostly, McCarthy's interview reminded us of the magic worked every day by professional media coaches. We don't know that we've ever seen a more uncomfortable person on television than McCarthy, slouched in that armchair, chin resting in hand, speaking so quietly that even miked up he could barely be heard. He was stripped, by bad lighting and a seeming refusal to wear makeup, of the stern grandeur he adopts in his book-jacket photos. (The brilliant photographer who helped create McCarthy's image, Marion Ettlinger, should show video of this interview to potential clients.) Instead, he seemed ungainly and frail and uncertain. We guess we don't particularly want to see a poised and polished Cormac McCarthy fobbing off anecdotes like a pro, but this sure made for awkward TV.

To me, it was exactly his unpolished-ness that made it so good.

McCarthy, Oprah on 'The Road'
Cormac McCarthy opens up on 'Oprah'

Friday, June 08, 2007

In the New Yorker this week

In case you're too busy to get to it until late Sunday night, which usually happens to me, the New Yorker this week, the Summer Fiction Issue, has a new story by Denis Johnson. Also in the issue is short article by Charles D'Ambrosio, along with the in-crowd writers Eggers, Eugenidies, Shteyngart.

And for those of you who pay attention to these things, there's another poem by Dana Goodyear.

Poor, poor little writer

An Observer article this week, titled My Book Deal Ruined My Life, tries to make us feel bad for published authors because getting a book published has turned their life into some kind of magical paradise.

It's not enough to try and tell us it's hard work, we hear that all the time and it doesn't deter the dedicated writer, but now we're supposed to feel sorry for someone who decided to write a book so that they could make money? My admiration and sympathy goes to those authors who would be doing it either way.

PS: Ed skewers the article here.

Tuesday, June 05, 2007

Book Review: No Country for Old Men

No Country for Old Men by Cormac McCarthy


Is it a Cormac McCarthy thriller or a deconstruction of genre fiction through the art of Cormac McCarthy? Either way, "No Country for Old Men" is an immensly readable book that stil retains everything we expect from McCarthy. Brutal violence is everywhere. Characters are overwhelmed by a world gone-bad and their own possible complicity in it. And it ends in a fashion that would likely surprise a traditional genre reader but should be no shock to a McCarthy fan. The book could serve as a good introduction to McCarthy or for those intrigued by "The Road" but might want something, say, a little less depressing.

For me, I don't finish any book in a week (especially these days), but this book held me in its grip from the moment I picked it up to merely see if I wanted to read it next.

Book Sale Haul Pt. 2

  • Existentialism and Human Emotions - Jean-Paul Sartre
  • The Adventures of Augie March - Saul Bellow
  • Reflections in a Golden Eye - Carson McCullers
  • Jude the Obscure - Thomas Hardy
  • Three Novels - Samuel Beckett
  • Rabbit, Run - John Updike
  • Intruder in the Dust - William Faulkner
  • Absalom, Absalom - William Faulkner
  • The Town - William Faulkner
  • The Heart is a Lonely Hunter - Carson McCullers
  • Rhinoceros - Eugene Ionesco
  • Delta Wedding - Eudora Welty
  • Faust Pt I - Goethe
  • Faust Pt II - Goethe
  • A Farewell to Arms - Ernest Hemingway
  • Islands in the Stream - Ernest Hemingway
  • Charles Baudelaire - A.E. Carter
  • Saul and Patsy - Charles Baxter
  • The Bell Jar - Sylvia Plath (first printing)
  • The Complete Stories - Franz Kafka
  • The Inner Circle - T.C. Boyle
  • The Ruins - Scott Smith
  • Rock Springs - Richard Ford (first printing)

One could detect a couple of themes here. A certain leaning towards Southern literature as well as traditional classics. Never minding the outliers like "The Ruins." I've heard good things and thought the wife would like it.


I could have grabbed more, that's certain, but I had to bags with handles ready to break and as much as I could take. They do this again in October anyway.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Book Sale Haul Pt. 1

Day one of the library book sale while price are still (fire-sale) high. They sell 'em by the bag on Sunday, so there'll be more.
  • Troubled Sleep - Jean-Paul Sartre (a first American edition that I probably already have)

  • For Whom The Bell Tolls - Ernest Hemingway (a hardback reissue from 1968)

  • The Death of Sweet Mister - Daniel Woodrell (after the beauty of Winter's Bone, it is time to dig back in his catalog)

  • Black Swan Green - David Mitchell (I heard a short interview with him yesterday and it made me want to read this one)

  • Color of Law - David Milofsky (Denver Post columnist and CSU workshop prof)

  • Therapy - Steven Schwartz (another CSU teacher and my former advisor)

  • Sanctuary - William Faulkner (I will get through all of Faulkner's works eventually)

  • The Reivers - William Faulkner (this one has a nice early 70's cover--and back copy--from when a movie was made of it with Steve McQueen)

  • Middlemarch - George Eliot (everyone in the world seems to cite this book, so I'd better get around to reading it)

  • One Writer's Beginnings - Eudora Welty (of course)

  • Existentialism & Alienation in American Literature - Sidney Finklestein (if I'd have gone for an MA in Lit, this would have been my thesis)
So, I guess my reading list just got longer.