The writing did it for me on page one. I'm a sucker for vernacular. The polemical bits about Appalachia being the most forgotten demographic were a biThe writing did it for me on page one. I'm a sucker for vernacular. The polemical bits about Appalachia being the most forgotten demographic were a bit tiresome. Forgotten, sure, but moreso than anyone else seems like a steeper hill to climb, even for a climber, to borrow the book's recurring metaphor. Maybe not a novel's responsibility. I wish I got the Copperfield analogies but it's been a long, long time since I've read that, but I wish even more I could read Demon's comics. Once again, the best comics seem to be imaginary....more
Sad, sad cowboys all the way down. Read this a while ago and retain little, but I seem to remember some of the western rhythms of Cormac McCarthy (I'mSad, sad cowboys all the way down. Read this a while ago and retain little, but I seem to remember some of the western rhythms of Cormac McCarthy (I'm sure they read each other, I wonder how much they retain of each other). "Brokeback" was indeed excellent, though seemingly so much faster than the movie, more like a history in its matter-of-fact progression than a story, until the ending with the nested shirts....more
A bit of O'Brian, a bit of Melville, a bit of arctic suffering, add a tortured moralist and a violent psychopath, and you can kind of see where this iA bit of O'Brian, a bit of Melville, a bit of arctic suffering, add a tortured moralist and a violent psychopath, and you can kind of see where this is going, but that's ok, b/c McGuire's pacing is good, his writing's even better, and his diction's wonderful. So many fine words. Actually, I didn't see the Empire Strikes Back moment coming. Got me there, McGuire.
krang (p. 41): the carcass of a whale after the blubber has been removed, though here used to refer to a seal.
snickle (p. 75): to snare, apparently in some British dialect.
fistic (p. 126): pertaining to boxing or fighting.
kiltings (p. 140): "Above him seabirds gather, wheeling and cacophanous, in the noisome air, while below in the grease-stained water, drawin in by the mixed aromas of blood and decay, Greenland sharks gnaw and tug at the whale's loose kiltings." Kilting literally means an arrangement of pleats on a kilt, so this may be a poetic reference to the folds on the the throat of a whale.
malemauk (p. 140): Google turned up William Barron's Old Whaling Days (thanks again, IA), which describe the malemauk boat as one the two boats on either side of the whale as it is being flensed. Another reference to this word in that book refers to a seabird, which tracks with an automated suggestion from dictionary.com of "mallemuck," a variant of "mollymawk," which means seabird. Maybe the boat was so named b/c such birds were attracted to carcass?
descant (p. 155): music; also, musical, or a musical part....more
I continue to love Woodrell's writing, even if this one lacked some of the humor in Tomato Red. The scattered vignette structure (explosion remnants?)I continue to love Woodrell's writing, even if this one lacked some of the humor in Tomato Red. The scattered vignette structure (explosion remnants?) was a fine distraction from the lack of plot, but who cares, it's all about the language.
The appended interview suggested Woodrell is sometimes compared with Cormac McCarthy. I guess they both tend toward winding sentences and geographical specificity, but Woodrell's a more talented and humane portraitist. Kind of makes me want to read them simultaneously. How do they differ in their approach to evil? To dialogue? To landscape?...more
This isn't a book with a plot, nor is it one populated with realish people, but those not-quite-realish people are differentiated and fun to listen toThis isn't a book with a plot, nor is it one populated with realish people, but those not-quite-realish people are differentiated and fun to listen to. Sadly, the central cast are the least fun: Alice (monotonous), Corvus (hardly there at all), Annabel (vapid), Carter (occasionally amusing but disappointingly spineless), and Ginger (too spiny). Much preferable was the company of Emily Bliss Pickless (mature 8-year-old skeptic and feeder of lizards), Nurse Daisy (apocalyptic nursing home attendant), and Stumpp (involutionally contemplative yet dissatisfied 1% former big game hunter), but alas they're merely side characters adorning the second half. I did like the writing. Maybe I'd like her short stories.
There were, however, some unambiguously choice words I didn't know:
ischemic (adj): related to ischemia, a restriction of blood supply to tissue (p. 57)
telluric (adj): related to the earth or soil (p. 70)
maenad (n): one of the Bacchante, the wild women followers of Dionysus who dismembered Orpheus (thanks, Sandman) (p. 102)
clerestory (n): high section of a wall with windows, traditionally above the nave in a Christian church (p. 224)
doxological (adj): pertaining to doxology, i.e. praising God (p. 224)
hecatomb (n): a sacrifice in ancient Greece or Rome involving 100 oxen or more; a large-scale slaughter or sacrifice (p. 252)
horripilatory (adj): pertaining to bristled hair or goosebumps (p. 269)
FWIW, I was inspired to read this by A.O. Scott's gushing essay about her in the Times last year....more
I have the Collected Fictions Penguin edition translated by Andrew Hurley, but I've had it for 10+ years and only ever read a story or two at a time. I have the Collected Fictions Penguin edition translated by Andrew Hurley, but I've had it for 10+ years and only ever read a story or two at a time. This time I opened "Undr" at random to cleanse my palette and decided I'd just go through the entire book it comes from.
I understand about 50-70% of what's going on in any given Borges story. There's often a lot of Argentinian history and cultural nuance that goes right by me, which I guess is true of most non-American writers, but the level of specificity in his work can be a bit of an impediment, or even a source of boredom. And there's the involutional setups, like this is a story about a book written by a man who was a character in a film etc etc, which is both part of the appeal and a bit wearying on repetition. What's consistently appealing to me is the sense that each piece feels like someone telling a story, as in there is almost always someone telling a tale, not an omniscient narrator, not a first-person egomaniac with impeccable recall, but just a person spinning tale. They are also, by and large, not stories about the self, with the possible exception of the one about the guy who meets his past self on a bench in Boston....more
I swore off McCarthy after finding The Road to be a novel-length doomscroll, but, in the very year the word "doomscroll" was coined, a friend gushed aI swore off McCarthy after finding The Road to be a novel-length doomscroll, but, in the very year the word "doomscroll" was coined, a friend gushed about his love for the Border Trilogy and suggested All the Pretty Horses was the one to try for the McCarthy-averse. He was right, a better experience overall, much of the aching landscapes more grounded in reality, or a reality I know, even a chuckle or two.
There are two women in the novel, Alejandra, essentially an object for John Grady's unexplored affection, and the Dueña Alfonsa, who makes two appearances in which she speaks more, and more eloquently, than all the other characters combined. John Grady and just about everyone else encounters some kind of buffer overflow error when they reach 10 words, but the Dueña can actually sustain long and complicated thoughts in sentences that don't feel like spurts of gunfire. She is the only character McCarthy bothers to explore and explain in words, with history and doubts and principles borne of experience. John Grady, the ostensible protagonist, is a two-toned cartoon cowboy who acts with complete certitude in all things except mortally defending himself in a prison fight (the other guy didn't deserve to die, he figures).
I admit, I bought this for the cover, which could easily be me with shorter hair and a mustache. I know nothing about Tsuge or his reputation aside frI admit, I bought this for the cover, which could easily be me with shorter hair and a mustache. I know nothing about Tsuge or his reputation aside from what I gleaned from the essay at the end. Without that, it would be easy to write this off as yet another autobiographical comic about a mostly-worthless dude obsessing over his own worthlessness, crushed dreams, and sexual obsessions, but there is a little more here. For one thing, we're seeing a portrait of poverty in Japan, and not like salt-of-the-earth rural poverty, but urban poverty, people who have crashed out of the middle class, seem disconnected from any kind of family support, and seem to survive on a small trickle of luck. It's not a Japan that I've seen in much manga, though my exposure to manga is certainly lacking breadth.
For another, Sukegawa (Tsuge's stand-in protagonist) lives with his wife and child, and while they are not favorably depicted, they are also not elided, nor are they footnotes. They aggravate him, but they're also a part of how Sukegawa sees himself, ever-present, tightly bound to his guilt. Women characters are not quite equitably portrayed here, but their justifiable anger is present, at least.
Also, aside from the first chapter, most of the book explores other characters in the village, from the other rock peddlers (who seem, if anything, even more eccentric than Sukegawa), to flea market junk dealers, to bird trappers both mercantile and mythological. While clearly motivated by the kind of egomania that drives anyone to autobiography, it's far from his only drive (thankfully), and these portraits are fun, sometimes pointed, and, especially in the case of his wife, complicated.
It's also hard not to think of Jenny O'Dell's How To Do Nothing and the iceberg of thought that sits atop. While Sukegawa isn't specifically escaping capitalism, he does seem to deliberately opt out of extrinsic notions of value. Even though he's constantly hustling for the most obvious form of extrinsic value (money) his absurd failures to earn any derive from his complete, perhaps willful ignorance of what other people want to buy. He seems exasperated that people don't share his internal obsessions (rocks, old cameras, poets who care for nothing but hard drinking and hot springs), at least not to the point of shelling out a few yen.
The art was a shock after reading that Toppi collection. Tsuge's style is loose, sometimes bordering on sloppy, but totally different than most other manga artists. Many of his landscapes show the kind of detailed draftsmanship that so often sets Japanese comics apart from American ones, but they're few and far between. I want to say his style reminds me more of American indies, but I'm struggling to think of which ones specifically. My partner just suggested Tomine, but Tsuge's WAY less spare than that. Something to think about.
I would gladly read more. Despite the lack of published translations, it looks like the Internet has significantly more, including this collection by someone named Sonny Liew....more
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