I was thinking about how I was missing Kafka when I saw this on the bookstore table (before all the hoopla on the 100th anniversary of Kafka's death) I was thinking about how I was missing Kafka when I saw this on the bookstore table (before all the hoopla on the 100th anniversary of Kafka's death) and I snapped it up. I love new translations of old favorites as an excuse to re-read. Plus I have a naive and unfounded belief that newer is better. And an even less founded and quasi mystical belief that all the different translations I've read merge together in my head into something approximating the original.
1. This had far and away the best introduction of any of the volumes. A masterful 66 page mini biography, literary appreciation--plus lots of great pictures.
2. This had far and away the best introductions to each story along with very detailed and informative footnotes (two types--commentary on the translation on the bottom of the page and then endnotes with more academic discussion and exegesis). Whether this is a plus or minus depends on your taste. In some ways I loved reading The Unhappiness of Being a Single Man: Essential Stories because it did not have any of this and left you alone with the stories and your thoughts. But I'm also glad that on re-reading I did read the footnotes.
3. The selection of stories in this is excellent. It has most of Kafka's published work (including "The Transformation," his translation of "Metamorphosis") and a few unpublished gems. It was basically just the right amount for me, I prefer a higher average quality selection to anything overly long let alone complete for short stories.
4. The translations seemed excellent too. Certainly extremely thoughtful. I did not compare (and don't read German so there is a limit) but think this is yet another excellent translation. In fact, I would trust most anything done since the original translations by the Muirs.
As for the stories themselves, I found that they grew on me reading them yet again. They are so funny. And so strange. And so incredibly hyper-realistic while at the same time being utterly fantastical. And totally original. Much imitated but not remotely matched. I came to appreciate even more some of the ones I paid just a little less attention to before, including "The Judgment," "Before the Law," and "A Report for an Academy." But it feels wrong singling those out when everything in this collection is a 10 out of 10....more
The Last Day of a Condemned Man is really short story length (and in fact many short stories are longer), it is an intense first person account of a mThe Last Day of a Condemned Man is really short story length (and in fact many short stories are longer), it is an intense first person account of a man's journey from being sentenced to death to the guillotine, with about half of it going step-by-step through his final hours. We never learn his crime. Virtually no other characters have names. In some ways it feels like an intense psychological novel but in other ways it feels like a polemic against the death penalty.
Victor Hugo's preface (written three years after the novel) was interesting as was a short imaginary dialogue of people critical of it. This edition had another short story that I started but was not interested in so did not finish....more
A 19th century novel that is a paean to the consumer welfare standard. A large department store the Ladies Paradise, one of the first in 19th century A 19th century novel that is a paean to the consumer welfare standard. A large department store the Ladies Paradise, one of the first in 19th century Paris, displaces a lot of local small businesses in sometimes painful ways. Denise, the heroine of the novel, argues, “Prices, instead of being fixed by about fifty shops as they used to be, are fixed nowadays by four or five, which have lowered them, thanks to the power of their capital and the number of their customers … So much the better for the public.” Protect competition not competitors in fictional form.
The department store is really the leading character in this book, the protagonist of the Bildungsroman. It is like a living, breathing creature with needs, desires and most importantly constant growth. It becomes increasing complex, mature and alive as it develops. From a few departments to many, takes over more and more of the square block—eventually engulfing the one stubborn holdout. The novel also has amazing depictions of innovations, not just classical invention (e.g., an improved type of umbrella at one point) but also management of inventory, holding sales, selling some products at a loss, advertising, managing inventories, and more. I never thought an entire chapter of a novel (and they’re long chapters) devoted to inventory management could be so thrilling but that one was nothing compared to the description of the sale.
In the shadow of the Ladies Paradise are a number of small shops that are having an increasingly difficult time competing. The larger shop buys out some, builds on innovations by others, and aggressively competes on price with still others. Émile Zola does not sugarcoat the pain of all of this, depicting deaths and suicide attempts in the wake of the store. But he does not blame all the maladies on the Ladies Paradise itself and, consistent with the consumer welfare standard, he keeps the focus on the ways in which this profit ultimately benefits customers. Moreover, some of the small businesses do innovate in ways that help keep themselves in business: “longing to create competition for the colossus; [a small business owner] believed that victory would be certain if several specialized shops where customers could find a very varied choice of goods could be created in the neighbourhood.”
Interestingly there is a chapter that reads like an explanation of an economic model, Bertrand competition, in which two competitors keep lowering prices by smaller and smaller amounts until they are pricing as low as they possibly can (their marginal cost). What made this especially interesting to me was that The Ladies Paradise was published in 1883, the same year Joseph Louis François Bertrand published his model.
And it is not just consumers. The novel depicts how the productivity gains the Ladies Paradise makes as a result of its scale and its innovations are passed through to workers in the form of higher pay and improved benefits. For example, early on there is a brutal depiction of the process of laying off workers during the slow time of year. Later on, the store develops a system that is more like furloughs with insurance. And also, unlike the small shops in the area, it has opportunities for advancement within the store, moving up the ranks of managerial positions. Notably, all of this is not because of the benevolence of the owner (as it is in a few other 19th century novels) but because of competition from other stores so the need to attract and retain talent.
All of this makes employment in the colossus considerably better than the smaller, neighboring shops where people are poorly paid, lack opportunities for advancement and face harassment. Although it is still not all wonderful—for example, the department store frowns on women who are married and dismisses them when they have children.
Overall, the combination of low prices for consumers and high expenses—including pay and benefits to attract and retain employees—mean that the business has a very thin profit margin but applies that margin to a very large base: “Doubtless with their heavy trade expenses and their system of low prices the net profit was at most four per cent. But a profit of sixteen hundred thousand francs was still a pretty good sum; one could be content with four per cent when one operated on such a scale.”
The biggest wrinkle in the consumer welfare standard is some of the ambivalence Zola has about consumer preferences themselves. The advent and spread of advertising as manufacturing desires is a big part of the book: “The sixty thousand francs spent on announcements in the newspapers, the ten thousand posters on walls, and the two hundred thousand catalogues which had been sent out had emptied the women’s purses and left their nerves suffering from the shock of their intoxication; they were still shaken by all Mouret’s devices: the reduced prices, the system of ‘returns’, his constantly renewed attentions.”
The idea that people—or women to be more specific—are buying things they do not “need” but “desire” is an issue it grapples with. And that desire can even rise to the level of a mad frenzy, like the sales it depicts or the shoplifters, some of them affluent but driven by an almost mad desire to acquire lace, silk, and more.
All of this is embedded in a larger economic and technological system that is operating in the background: large factories in Lyon that are producing at scale in a way that is symbiotic with the department store, rail transportation to bring the constant inflow of goods, a mail system that supports catalog purchases, and more.
Oh, and there are actual humans. A woman her two brothers comes to Paris from the countryside to support themselves. In typical Zola fashion she and her little brother go as far down as you could imagine into poverty and near starvation before she ascends meteorically. The stores owner becomes an interesting and more complex character as it goes along. There is a love story. All of this is quite good but none of it rises to the level of uniqueness of the depiction of the store and the market competition system it depicts.
I read this based on a recommendation from several people in response to a tweet, “I asked a colleague in the English department if any fiction had positive depictions of business and capitalism (other than Ayn Rand). He mischievously suggested George Bernard Shaw's Major Barbara to me--here is my review. Anyone else have other ideas?” Although it might not be as one-sided as I depict above, I’m still astounded about how breathtaking fiction can be made which understands and depicts the ways in which innovation and scale combine with competition to generate benefits for consumers and workers—while also not sugarcoating the many that lose from this process....more
This was a lot of fun as a read. It had a bit of everything. Classic romantic comedy love story. Picaresque road adventure. London high society. Lots This was a lot of fun as a read. It had a bit of everything. Classic romantic comedy love story. Picaresque road adventure. London high society. Lots and lots of coincidences and resolutions.
It also felt like reading a pre-code novel given how much of a large and explicit role sex and desire played, in the lusty variety, not to mention enough nudity to earn it an R rating were it fully depicted as a movie.
Some of that is what lent the characters greater complexity and depth. Yes, there are the ones who are just there to be mocked and as stand ins for various things wrong with society (I'm looking at you Thwackum and Square). But Tom, especially, is flawed, relatable, and human--although mostly in the sense of toting up and evaluating his actions, he doesn't have anything like the psychological complexity one gets from Shakespeare of great 19th century novels.
It was hard to read it without thinking of its role in the evolution of English literature. There were large stretches (especially the beginning) where I was thinking, "oh, that's just like Jane Austen". Then a bunch where it was like Dickens (Pickwick in the middle of the book, somewhat later Dickens as the book went along). And then moments where I was impressed with the plot, like when the female love interest (Sophia) who had been absent for a while came back with the story going back in time before catching up again to the present. If I did not know when Tom Jones had been written I would not have been impressed with any of this, it was not up to Austen or Dickens and hundreds of novelists have done the shift between characters. But knowing when it was one could not help but both be "unfairly" impressed (look, he can shift back and forth in time--wow) and "unfairly" dismissive (but Austen and Dickens can do that so much better).
Overall, Tom Jones merits reading on its own terms. But it is also interesting to read as the link between the origin of the modern novel in Don Quixote and the apogee of the British novel in the 19th century....more
I have seen relatively little George Bernard Shaw and until the last two weeks had not read any (have now read Major Barbara and Mrs. Warren's ProfessI have seen relatively little George Bernard Shaw and until the last two weeks had not read any (have now read Major Barbara and Mrs. Warren's Profession). That said, I had always assumed that whenever I got around to him I would be a big fan, enjoying the language, ideas, and milieu. So far he has not lived to my high expectations.
Yes, Arms and the Man was sometimes amusing. Yes, at least one of the characters had a certain amount of depth and change (Raina, the daughter) and some of the others were interesting types. And sure, there is something valuable in puncturing the nobility of war and mocking heroism and nobility. But the ridiculous situations felt a bit stock, the characters felt a bit flat, and none of the language was so exciting that I would have felt impelled to immediately call anyone and share it with them.
I do not mean to be overly harsh, I would love to see this in a theater. And I will read more Shaw in the future, there was nothing unpleasant about this, and in fact it was somewhat pleasant (it was published in a collection, “Plays Pleasant”.) Just did not blow me away in the manner I might have hoped....more
This play is about the relationship between a prostitute-turned-madam (Mrs. Warren) who returns to England to get to know her strong willed daughter VThis play is about the relationship between a prostitute-turned-madam (Mrs. Warren) who returns to England to get to know her strong willed daughter Vivie who has grown up away from her and in ignorance of her mother's profession. A bunch of other men are thrown into the mix of various ages and various degrees of attraction and histories, sordid and otherwise, to Mrs. Warren and Vivie.
I loved Vivie as a character, liked Mrs. Warren, but found almost all of the men--and their relationships to each other and to the women--tiresome. Plus it all felt like a deliberately setup scenario rather than a splendidly plotted drama....more
I could read every line by Andrew Undershaft, the exceedingly wealthy arms manufacturer who is one of the main characters in this play, over and over I could read every line by Andrew Undershaft, the exceedingly wealthy arms manufacturer who is one of the main characters in this play, over and over again without tiring of them. But if I never had to re-read or re-hear another one of the cockney-infused lines by the poorer characters in this play I would be fine. I am not sure if this reflects some warped and biased taste on my part or is George Bernard Shaw's fault for the way in which he created the characters, making one sparkling, counterintuitive and challenging while the others into stock and sometimes even condescending specimens of poverty with no originality or soul. I lean towards the later but am open to the former.
Stepping back, I came to this after asking a colleague in the English department whether there is any fiction with positive portrayals of capitalism or capitalists, with the positivity not related to charity or personal rectitude but the business itself doing good for the world. He suggested this as an intriguing and debatable possibility so I set out to read it (I should say, my wife has since come up with a clearer example, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory and I would add bonus points for the movie Wonka which depicts both the benefits of capitalism but also the importance of antitrust enforcement against cartels).
Shaw sets out with a tough case: an absentee father arms manufacturer who is, by our conventional standards of morality, ammoral. He develops even deadlier weapons and believes in selling them to any side of a conflict. He states that "there are two things necessary to Salvation... money and gunpowder." This is contrasted with his daughter, Barbara, who is a Major in the Salvation Army and is focused on ministering to and providing crumbs for people in poverty while working on their salvation.
We visit a Salvation Army camp and see people who are pretending to have worse moral problems than they have to get assistance, who are still poor (albeit less miserable about it than they should be, for example they no longer mind the cold), and whose Salvation Army efforts end up failing. This is all a contrast with the arms factory we also end up seeing which, it is asserted more than shown, provides people with a well ordered life that takes care of most of their needs leaving them what seems like happy and busy.
It is never clear what exactly Shaw is satirizing and what he is agreeing with. I found that a good aspect of the play. I read much (but not all) of his very long preface where he complains that audiences took the wrong message from it, which seems to me a good thing about the play and the audiences--but if I'm wrong it is more of a failure on Shaw's part than on the audience's part. Regardless, it becomes clear that he meant some of his key points quite unironically: "In the millionaire Undershaft I have represented a man who has become intellectually and spiritually as well as practically conscious of the irresistible natural truth which we all abhor and repudiate: to wit, that the greatest of evils and the worst of crimes is poverty, and that our first duty—a duty to which every other consideration should be sacrificed—is not to be poor. 'Poor but honest,' 'the respectable poor,' and such phrases are as intolerable and as immoral as 'drunken but amiable,' 'fraudulent but a good after-dinner speaker,' 'splendidly criminal,' or the like."
Of course, Shaw is a Fabian socialist not a capitalist. He genuinely believes that capitalism needs poverty and that it needs a police force to impose that poverty. It is not entirely clear how you would understand this strictly limited to the play itself but from the preface and his broader writings.
The Andrew Undershaft character feels reminiscent of Dick Dudgeon from The Devil's Disciple (I haven't read or seen much Shaw, something I will set out to remedy, so he may resemble many others as well) in that he does his good for the world despite his pretenses and outward affect not as an extension of it. The opposite of, say, a Mrs. Jellyby in Bleak House (although in some ways like another Dickens character, Sydney Carton). This creates an analogy between capitalism--and its unintended but positive consequences--and a certain moral outlook that is focused more on deeds and consequences than words and intentions.
As for the play as a whole, the best parts are spectacular but overall it is too long and uneven. It begins as a drawing room comedy that feels like a somewhat less witty continuation of Oscar Wilde before introducing Undershaft and his scenes. Undershaft's biological son plays an important role in illustrating his character and commenting on merit versus inheritance but I could not figure out why his other daughter and her partner, both of whom were shallow, silly and one dimensional, needed to be included in a play that was already on the very long side. But all of that is less important than what I took away from reading it--and often enjoyed immensely in the process....more
An amazing novel. Virginia Woolf famously described Middlemarch as, "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people". The same could be saiAn amazing novel. Virginia Woolf famously described Middlemarch as, "one of the few English novels written for grown-up people". The same could be said about Daniel Deronda, although it has a few contrived coincidences/resolution that are more reminiscent of the non-grown up Victorian literature.
Daniel Deronda focuses on the parallel stories of two characters--who come together at critical moments in the beginning, middle and end of the book. The first is Gwendolen Harleth, a "spoiled" young woman raised by a mother and absent father, she is smart but not well educated, talented but not practiced or disciplined, and a bit flighty. She has to adjust to her family losing their money in a financial fraud which forces her into a terrible choice--which she makes to knowingly marry the wrong man.
The second is the title character, Daniel Deronda, who is raised by Sir Hugo as his nephew but has mysterious parentage and what increasingly seems like Jewish features and attitudes. He is like a caring white night, rescuing Gwendolen's necklace from the pawnbroker, a woman from drowning in the Thames and more. He is caring and wise.
As the book goes on the Gwendolen parts which read like a grown up and disillusioned Jane Austen shift to a set of philosophical and political dialogues about the nature of Judaism, the relationship of Jews to Israel, religion vs. ethnic identity, and more. In many ways these conversations seem like the same ones that are going on today, in other ways they seem prescient, maybe in a few cases they seem dated. But throughout they are a sophisticated and non-stereotypical portrayal of the variety of Jews in England at the time.
The two arcs of the book fit together uneasily. It does not feel perfectly constructed. Or perfectly written. But it is filled with amazing parts, psychological perspective, an interesting slipping in and out of authorial perspective, and more. Overall outstanding and exciting but also a bit of a problem novel in the provocative type of way that makes something more interesting not less.
My second George Eliot, I'm excited to read more....more
The Pushkin Essential Stories stories continues to be unerringly amazing. Beautiful volumes without introductions or footnotes--just the stories. WellThe Pushkin Essential Stories stories continues to be unerringly amazing. Beautiful volumes without introductions or footnotes--just the stories. Well chosen and diverse. Not too long so you do not find yourself getting tired of them. Well translated (they have covered many of the leading 19th century Russian authors, less from elsewhere).
My enthusiasm for 19th century began with Fyodor Dostoyevsky, starting with Notes from Underground in high school and going through almost all of his novels and novellas by the end of college (although The Adolescent has been on my TBR for thirty years now). But I have not read anything from him since then, until this. And he really is amazing, such vivid characters, humor, psychological perspective, ability to shift multiple perspectives within a story, and a real variety.
A few quick notes about the stories in this collection:
A Bad Business: This was my favorite story in the collection. An official is heading home drunk from a birthday party, passes his subordinates party, and stops in uninvited thinking he is gracing them with his presence but instead ruining it by introducing a status that was not present. Although he realizes this he is trapped and in the course of it you learn that much of it is not what it appears to anyone. The opening and coda work well to bracket the otherwise intense drunken party.
Conversations in a Graveyard (Bobok): In the first person by a failed writer who like many of Dostoyevsky's characters is not particularly reliable about his own psyche and failings--even though they are clear to the more sophisticated reader who can follow their stream of consciousness. He wanders into a graveyard, lies down, and hears the deceased conversing with each other--until he interrupts it and comes back to reality. Both fantastical and highly realistic.
A Meek Creature: The Pushkin Press volume has no introductions or notes. But for some reason Dostoyevsky felt the need to include a preface to this story explaining his semi-stream of consciousness methodology in writing the story that begins with a man's wife's suicide but then goes back to the beginning, their meeting, relationship, marriage, and the growing problems. In many ways it is a highly realistic portrait of the difficulties of marriage and connection, very different from the romantic comedies and happy endings being written by so many British authors at the same time.
The Crocodile: Another fantastical-realistic tale, this one a couple and their friend go to an exhibition to see a touring crocodile, the crocodile swallows the husband but he lives on inside conversing in an increasingly thoughtful and erudite way about his ideas to revolutionize political economy and society more broadly, attracting larger and larger crowds. This leads to an evolution of his friendship. Hilarious, moving, brilliant. Writing this I'm not sure I agree with my earlier statement that "A Bad Business" was the best in the group, maybe this was.
The Heavenly Christmas Tree: This is a very short story about a poor boy and his mother freezing to death on Christmas, it bears some resemblance to Hans Christian Anderson's The Little Match Girl. A little overly sentimental, but does provide variety. And that authorial interjections that frame it make it a little more interesting and authentic feeling.
The Peasant Marey: Another very short story, I did not like as much as many of the others, has something in common with the previous with frame discussions, questions on authenticity, this time in a prison camp....more
"The Great Sultana," the second of the two Cervantes plays in this volume, was really enjoyable and interesting. "The Bagnios of Algiers" was fine but"The Great Sultana," the second of the two Cervantes plays in this volume, was really enjoyable and interesting. "The Bagnios of Algiers" was fine but mostly of historical/contextual interest rather than something that stands on its own. Both were better than the only other Cervantes play I've read, The Gallant Spaniard.
"The Bagnios of Algiers" takes place among captives in Algiers, partly based on Cervantes' five years in captivity there. The best parts of it are recycled into (or taken from?) "The Captive's Tale" in Don Quixote, most notable the noble Moorish woman Zara/Zoraida who discovers her own path to Christianity and falls in love with a captain. The play has a lot of action and might even make a good movie, from Corsair raids on the Spanish coast to acquire captives and slaves to escapes from Algiers to betrayals, conversions, impalings, and more. It depicts Algiers as a mix of different types--Muslims, Christians, Jews, renegades, etc., but mostly disliking and demeaning each other (well, the Jews are just disliked and demeaned by the others without passing it on). But overall it has too many characters and incidents to form a fully coherent dramatic whole.
"The Great Sultana" is filled with disguises. Christians disguised as muslims. Men disguised as women. People disguised as people from other country's. All in the service of a story that takes place in Constantinople, again amongst captives. But "The Great Sultana" has more humor (including some silly humor, like a man who gets his freedom by promising to spend the next ten years teaching an elephant to speak, and who shows up periodically to report on his progress). Fewer characters and incidents and battles (unlike both Bagnios and the Gallant Spaniard), and thus what feels like more dramatic unity. It still does not have any characters who live and breathe in the way that characters in Don Quixote or Shakespeare do. So again is still a bit of a historical curiosity. But an enjoyable one....more
It's 2023 and Cervantes has a new book out! Actually a play (that was never performed in his lifetime) that was translated into English for the first It's 2023 and Cervantes has a new book out! Actually a play (that was never performed in his lifetime) that was translated into English for the first time. And I just ran into it in the bookstore. And now I'm the first to review it on Goodreads.
The tale is a mixture of love and war set in the sixteenth century siege of the Spanish-controlled Oran by the Ottomans (something that was a part of the broader naval struggle that culminated in the Battle of Lepanto which Cervantes was wounded in). The translation is excellent, with rhyming verse that is reminiscent of the amazing Richard Wilbur translations of Molière. Unfortunately the drama itself makes little sense.
It starts with a Muslim woman who wants a Christian knight brought to her for reasons that are never explained. Then the knight's behavior itself makes little sense, with him deserting the garrison, getting captured, fighting for the Muslims, but then returning to the Christian side all for reasons that are not really explained. And then there are coincidences so absurd they would make Shakespeare blush. All of which turns from a comedy of disguises and mistaken identities back into a history play that culminates with an epic battle.
I'm glad I read it but it has virtually nothing in common with Don Quixote. And a prose version might have been do-able as one of the (amazing) Exemplary Novels. But it does not really work in this format....more
I mostly find myself in firm agreement with the Canon, at least the Western one. I've read and re-read Homer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Tolstoy, DickensI mostly find myself in firm agreement with the Canon, at least the Western one. I've read and re-read Homer, Shakespeare, Cervantes, Tolstoy, Dickens, Austen, Flaubert, etc. etc. and believe that if history was run a dozen times then all dozen these authors (or works in the case of the ones attributed to "Homer") would be venerated as something special and different. I sometimes worry that my taste is overly determined by others, and certainly I have the things I like more or less, but then I think there is a good reason for it. Sure there are things I like much more (Dickens) or not as much (not sure) but I put that down as more a matter of taste than a firm conviction that the collective literary judgment is wrong. (Also, some of my favorite books I could not get past page 100 the first time I tried, including Anna Karenina, Don Quixote and Dead Souls.)
But when it comes to Tess of the D'Urbervilles I genuinely do not understand its canonical status. The characters were flat and unrealistic. Their changes were too abrupt from one flat and unrealistic way of being to another. They had no psychology. The writing was overdone (it is hard to read something like this without cringing: "Clare had resolved never to kiss her until he had obtained her promise; but somehow, as Tess stood there in her prettily tucked-up milking gown, her hair carelessly heaped upon her head till there should be leisure to arrange it when skimming and milking were done, he broke his resolve, and brought his lips to her cheek for one moment.") Some of the rural depictions overly stereotyped. The plot overly melodramatic and too relentlessly negative. And the situations felt unrealistic.
I mostly felt the same way about the only other Hardy novel I have read, Jude the Obscure but did not have enough of the courage of my convictions to fully think everything I thought about this. I will try at least another of Hardy's novels, and knowing myself will not restrain myself from reading all the well known ones, but having a hard time understanding why he enjoys such a high level of literary status....more
I was really looking forward to this Spanish picaresque novella from the 1550s (novella is almost an overstatement, in the Norton edition it is only 4I was really looking forward to this Spanish picaresque novella from the 1550s (novella is almost an overstatement, in the Norton edition it is only 40 pages long). It was described as a precursor to Don Quixote, Candide, David Copperfield, and more. Instead it was a relatively thin period piece, something of historical interest for learning about 16th century Spain (including harsh condemnations of the church, which got it banned) and the history of literature. It has some interesting humor and insight but nothing that comes close to any of Cervantes Exemplary Novels, which is a collection of similar length novellas written just 60 years later.
Note, the Norton edition is an excellent translation by the amazing Ilan Stavans. It comes with some "Contexts" which are other Spanish works from the period, several of which were interesting (and several of which I skipped) and also "Criticism" that I mostly skipped because it was mostly pretty literary theoretical or highly obscure (e.g., an essay about translations of the work into Russian)....more
Ridiculous, unrealistic, clichéd, disordered, contradictory, and also tremendously fun ride. It is nowhere nearly as good as The Count of Monte CristoRidiculous, unrealistic, clichéd, disordered, contradictory, and also tremendously fun ride. It is nowhere nearly as good as The Count of Monte Cristo, let alone more "serious" nineteenth century literature. Other writers, like Charles Dickens and Dostoyevsky Fyodor also wrote for serialization around the same time but the episodic/cliffhanger nature of this work is much clearer than in anything those authors wrote. But creating characters that are larger than life and an entire world around them, all of which revolves around them and their relationships--embodied in dialogue (a lot of the novel reads like a play)--rather than ideas or grander forces is itself a justifiably lasting achievement....more
I recently visited Elsinore Castle in Denmark (or actually Helsingør as it is written in Danish) and couldn't restrain myself from picking up a copy oI recently visited Elsinore Castle in Denmark (or actually Helsingør as it is written in Danish) and couldn't restrain myself from picking up a copy of Hamlet to re-read. You didn't need me to say that it really is an amazing play, both rip roaring drama from beginning to end, language, profound statements, canonical lines, moral ambiguity, madness, and much much more....more
I read this out of some vague sense of responsibility that I should eventually read it. And I confess I did not like young Werther or the writing. A pI read this out of some vague sense of responsibility that I should eventually read it. And I confess I did not like young Werther or the writing. A privileged youth he spends his time reading Homer and pining over a woman he knows is engaged, eventually killing himself over the entire affair. It is told in the form of letters and an extended note from the editor to the reader (which is also fictional), which was the part I liked best because it was an interesting way of doing a frame narrative after the main narrative rather than before it.
I'm sure some people connect with this book, I'm not passing judgment on its literary merit. But to me it felt like a literary artifact that may have influenced many books since but I would rather read the best of the books it influenced (e.g., by Kafka and Mann) than their progenitor....more
I started this twice before but always got stuck on not wanting to plow through the dialectic which I just did not feel like getting through. But withI started this twice before but always got stuck on not wanting to plow through the dialectic which I just did not feel like getting through. But with both of my high school age children having just read it for school I gave it a third time and found myself increasingly fluent in reading it as I went through ad found it variously moving, heartbreaking, entertaining, and ultimately was very glad I read it--plus it turned out to be a reasonably fast read once I got started....more
My interest in reading very difficult novels like Ulysses peaked about thirty years ago and whatever I missed then from Pynchon, Gaddis the like I am My interest in reading very difficult novels like Ulysses peaked about thirty years ago and whatever I missed then from Pynchon, Gaddis the like I am unlikely to have filled in since then. But last year my former high school English teacher and now friend pulled me into a reading group the finally got me to read Gravity’s Rainbow, which I liked in part but disliked in part. This year he got me to read Ulysses, which I ended up truly loving (and, more rarely, disliking in part) and might even read again some day.
First a word on process for those who have not read Ulysses and are considering it. I do not think I could have read it without support, although in my case that was probably more support than was needed. If you are a novice I would recommend at least one guide, my favorite was XX but XX was also good. Without them I would have been lost and baffled in the second episode (as they are called in Ulysses, basically chapters, or really long parts) and have given up in the third. In addition, I have been finding the reading group helpful with rolling discussions, motivations, insights, and encouragement/sympathy from several people that range from multiple-rereaders of Ulysses to novices like me. Finally, I listened to the RTÉ Player’s recording for about a third of the book, it is a full cast of an Irish theater company available for free as a podcast and elsewhere. This was particularly helpful for some of the chapters, as noted below, and in some ways easier to follow than the text because the different voices helped delineate the characters, internal monologues, and provide sound effects that are sometimes useful context.
And with that long preface, here is a brief stream of consciousness of my reading of Ulysses:
PART I: TELEMACHIA
Episode 1, Telemachus: This is a famously difficult book but I can read it and understand a bunch of it and even enjoy some of the language and characters. I'll join the reading group after all.
Episode 2, Nestor: OK, A little disorienting at first, puts an end to the idea that I would read this without a guide, but once I have a little orientation it comes together, the language almost feels more interesting than the first Episode, thrilled to be reading it.
Episode 3, Proteus: What just happened? Did I make a mistake reading this book? I have been in the mind of a pretentious person—and I am not sure even any real person would actually think this pretentiously—and regardless do not particularly enjoy being in their mind which seemed like something the author did to get me to stop reading.
PART II: ODYSSEY
Episode 4, Calypso: Wow, the first sentence blew me away and the rest of the episode sustained the same level of language, imagery, perspective--not to mention smells, perhaps the pungent chapter I've ever read of anything. Is truly amazing. Not just a certified great book that I can sort of understand, but a book I can't stop thinking about. Leopold Bloom is both boring and interesting, his relationship to his wife is almost sad and bizarre, I'm hoping we meet Blazes Boylan because he seems particularly ridiculous, the stream of consciousness is working for me because it is not just one long stream but intermittent perspectives and images between something a little bit more like a narrative.
Episode 5, Lotus Eaters: Still good, still understandable Feel broadly the same way I did about Calypso, while finally getting more of the Dublin I was promised.
Episode 6, Hades: Cool, there are more people. And they have normal dialogue. And none of them are ridiculously pretentious. And I finally get to see Bloom from the perspective of others. Also I might even have figured out this one was “Hades” without the guide. Shows how insightful I’m becoming about this book.
Episode 7, Aeolus: The politics and other concerns feel a little dated, the arguments a little windy, but I guess that’s the point.
Episode 8, Lestrygonians: Bloom’s consciousness is a much more pleasant, relaxing, place to be than Dedalus’ was in Proteus. It’s better to be around a human with animal-like desires. Plus all that food, yum.
Episode 9, Scylla and Charybdis: A long time ago I spent a summer in Russia. One evening I was hanging out with a group of Russian friends engaged in lively conversation. At some point they grew tired of speaking in English just for my sake and switched to Russian. I sat for a period of time listening to the conversation and enjoying it--feeling like I was a part of something and could imagine that I understood and was more intelligent for that understanding. That’s how I’m feeling now. I couldn’t pass a test on any of this. I couldn’t even really explain or repeat what I read five minutes ago. But I’m enjoying the vicarious pleasure of being around someone smarter than me, plus his dialog is less pretentious than the mind we were exposed to in Proteus, so starting to overcome that trauma.
Episode 10, Wandering Rocks: This was fun, different characters, different scenes, all wandering around Dublin.
Episode 11, Sirens: What, this makes no sense at all, and it’s too long. Wait, I just listened to the RTÉ Players full cast recording and I still don’t love it but it did sort of come to life when you have actual sound effects (mostly music) and different voices, something Joyce was clearly trying to do but absent the literal version I could not actually hear myself.
Episode 12, Cyclops: More hanging out in Dublin sort of fun as we witness a long argument with the “Citizen,” a man with an eyepatch, a lot of bluster, and a certain amount of anti-semitism too. I don’t get many of the historical references but not sure they matter.
Episode 13, Nausicaa: This is getting too easy. And almost feels like a plot twist, learning that Bloom is not just the innocent cuckold—but a man who acts on his own needs and desires in ways that go beyond a furtive epistolary romance. Plus nice to have a new character who I can also follow, Gerty MacDoweell, who is a bit superficial, a bit vain, and also a bit risqué.
Episode 14, Oxen of the Sun: I’m dreading this because the guides say it is a long and difficult experiment with language that goes from older English up through Dickens and beyond. Now I’m reading it and quite liking it, feeling immersed in the different styles, recognizing them (even if I can’t place most of them exactly without a guide), and feeling like there is so little happening in terms of characters and plot that I’m not missing anything by not following all of it. Then the reading group shakes me a bit when my former high school English teacher argues the episode is all showing up and linguistic tricks with no plot or character development. I’m worried he’s right and I’ve been reading it all wrong.
Episode 15, Circe: What a bizarre episode, a several hundred page selection in the form of a play complete with stage directions, it goes in and out of fantasy and reality as Leopold and Stephen wanter through Nightown, Dublin’s red-light district. Getting swept away in each of the scenes is variously interesting, I’m not trying that hard to sort out fantasy from reality or understand what exactly is happening. Is that wrong of me? I don’t really have a choice.
PART III: NOSTOS
Episode 16, Eumaeus: I feel sobered up already, the prose is becoming almost a little wooden, as Leopold and Stephen return to reality and make their way to Leopold’s home.
Episode 17, Ithaca: I once gave a speech in the form of a Q&A. I thought it was an original format but it turns out James Joyce did it too, admittedly with somewhat more literary value than my own attempt at the genre. The minutiae is fun. The relationship between Bloom and Dedalus is fun. I have to go the bathroom.
Episode 18, Penelope: Finally I can see why this novel was banned. Wow, I knew this was coming, but yet was not remotely prepared for it. Eight “sentences” with no punctuation, all of what seemed like genial peccadilloes when seen from Leopold’s perspective seem worse and more tawdry from hers. And you can sympathize more with the affair she is having with Blazes Boylan. But mostly it is just astonishing to hear all the thoughts of a character you have heard a lot about but barely seen and even more barely heard until this final episode. Oh, and I’m done. That wasn’t so bad (in retrospect). Maybe I’ll do it again sometime....more
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