I must have been reading this for well over a month – mostly at the gym because, I have to admit straight off, I’ve found it quite tedious. I previously read (and didn’t especially enjoy) the Passion of New Eve by Angela Carter so I’m not sure if I didn’t make the connection when I picked this up (sometimes I’m bored and tired and am relieved just to have found something on the list so don’t really bother thinking who it’s by or if I’ll actually like it – but they all have to be read at some point anyway…).
Night at the Cirucs again employs magic realism in the tale of Fevvers (real name Sophie) a woman who possesses an extraordinary pair of wings. At the beginning of the novel Fevvers is performing in London when an American journalist comes to interview her (and her slightly severe foster mother, Lizzie) and (although from the interview chapters I didn’t detect anything especially amorous) thus decides to follow her across the world when she begins a skint with a circus travelling through Russia. In telling her story to Walser, and in the ensuing events with the circus, we meet all manner of characters – mostly unusual (as you would expect in a circus), and Carter is very good at these almost vignettes woven into Fevvers’ narrative, but I still didn’t find myself especially intrigued.
Part of perhaps my problem with this novel is that I could never quite figure out if I liked Fevvers – or disliked her – I found it difficult to make any kind of tangible connection with her – Walser even less so – so wasn’t especially invested in their histories. The version I read has an intro by Sarah Walters (whose novel Fingersmith I did enjoy) in such she sings Carters praises and although I do agree that Carter is very good at creating characters, I can’t find myself sharing her enthusiasm.
With this I’ll finally be up to date with my reading – at last ! – which still shows very poor progress for the year in comparison to every other year since I started reading through this list. Eyeless in Gaza is the third novel I chose for my holiday (although I was slightly sceptical that I’d get through even one – so managing to get through half of this which, at 504 pages, is really slightly longer than the ideal portable book length, exceeded my personal expectations but also is definitely a testament to how much I enjoyed this book – which I wasn’t really expecting).
I’d previously read (and enjoyed) Brave New World by Aldous Huxley – years ago but it was such that I can still remember the story quite accurately (which doesn’t always happen) – and given the ending of the later I was prepared for this to not necessarily be an easy read – easy in that it is pleasant all the way through, rather than meaning quick to get through. Eyeless in Gaza follows the main character and sometimes narrator, Antony Beavis, in a non linear narrative through his life – from his time at boarding school and adolescence as a student at Oxbridge (generalising because I can’t specifically remember which), to the toxic affair of his early years with the older Mary Amberly, and finally him as an adult, now in an affair with Mary’s daughter (oddly, not the first lover they share in the course of the novel – I didn’t manage to figure out if Helen knew that Antony had previously been with her mother but I’m guessing not) and bumbling around somewhat as his father had previously – about which he’d been scathing in his youth. At the opening of the novel I wasn’t especially enamoured with it – but I think from the first time it jumped back to his childhood, shortly after the death of his mother, it started to interest me much more – so much so that I ended up spending a large amount of the car and plane journeys reading (rather than sleeping, as I’d expected).
Checking the blurb when I was halfway through the novel and re-reading that at some point his friend Brian dies (which I don’t think I’m spoiling because it is in the blurb…) was something of a jolt because I’d completely forgotten about it – and in this way I was intrigued to read on and find out what happened – but equally I was intrigued anyway – by all the characters (not just Antony – who did become more of a bore with age) and how they would develop. It was a good read and a pleasant surprise and I think it reminds me of some other books which I can’t quite think of at the moment – I think there are other novels by Huxley on the list which I look forward to reading. I did manage to completely ignore when this book was published and spent a considerable amount of it waiting for WWII to begin (although it’s obviously from the dates that I was grossly wrong with this).
I’ve been wanting to read Goodbye to Berlin (or Alexanderplatz, another Christopher Isherwood novel on the list) for ages – I did consider buying it for when I went to Berlin last year because it seemed appropriate (but evidentially didn’t) so it seemed a bit paradoxical to finally be reading it on the way to Portugal but there’s no way I wasn’t going to pounce on it when it finally appeared in the library – despite having no real idea what it would be about.
Isherwood shares his name with the main character and narrator (and the novel is slightly biographical) – amusingly pronounced “Isheyvoo” by one of his German landladies. The novel follow’s his life in 1939 pre-WWII Berlin – with pre war tensions beginning to creep in as the novel progresses – and the other characters with which he associates – an eccentric collection of Germans and Brits. Some of his fellow characters are those most directly threatened by the rise of the Nazi – namely, homosexuals Otto and Peter (although the later is British) and a Jewish heiress. In some ways this was like a series of vignettes, with each focused around the characters with whom Christopher was intimate at that time, as his lodgings and circumstances changed.
This was quite a quick read and I did enjoy it so it was worth the wait in many ways, however I wouldn’t be counting it amongst my favourite novels any time soon.
Again I’ve had to check my library history but this puts me up to speed as of two weeks ago when I went on holiday and managed to get through more books in 2 weeks than 3 months ! If I have missed something out it must be something I didn’t rent out but I think it’s unlikely – I had another exam after Libra and have had quite a lot on at work and this year haven’t managed to read through it like I did last year – probably because I keep getting such unappealing books out of the library (but they have to be read at some point, you could argue).
Michel Houellebecq is (unsurprisingly, from the name) a French author – previously I have tried to read French language novels in French (because what is the point of being able to read French otherwise ?) but to be honest I didn’t pay much attention to the name when I got this out and it didn’t click that it was originally French until I pulled it out on the plane to start. Platform begins, I suppose in a nod to Camus, with the death of the narrator (Michel)’s father, and his return to his parental home. Michel, whose life is (by his own admission) fairly empty, then takes a holiday to Thailand, where we’re introduced to the rest of the holidaymakers on his tour and during which time he engages in casual sex tourism – which becomes key to the novel when he afterwards begins a relationship with a woman from the tour (Valerie) who works for the holiday company. I suppose this seemed an usual subject for a novel but equally it’s not something that I’ve considered at all really – despite having visited quite a lot of the countries mentioned – reading this on holiday (albeit in a European country rather than the places they visit which I think are considerably poorer) made it slightly more thought provoking.
The novel then follows Michel and Valerie as their relationship develops and as Valerie’s career progresses – the writing is accessible and easy to read and I got through it very quickly and, to be honest, it seemed like a strange book to have on the list until the last few chapters which I can’t talk about without ruining the novel; but which came as a complete surprise and took me aback quite a bit. Reflecting on it I can’t really explain why I enjoyed this so much – I think I appreciated the frankness of the narration although some reviews I read after have criticised Valerie’s character as being unrealistic and idealised – however I would take criticism with them because I think if a male character was written in such a way the same wouldn’t have been said. I haven’t checked if any of his other novels are on the list but I would be intrigued to read more – it really came into its own with the surprise ending and left me thinking about it for quite a while after – it’s been a while since I read a novel which has had me doing this !
I’m not really a fan of Don Delillo from the other books of his I’ve read (White Noise, Mao II) and annoyingly I think there are a few of his on my list, so I’ll have to get through them at some point, but when I picked this one up I was already prepared for a bit of a slog.
Libra is a fictionalised version of the events leading up to Lee Harvey Oswald’s assassination of JFK – to be honest I don’t really know much about the actual events so couldn’t really make a comparison with any already accumulated history knowledge. It follows Oswald from his childhood/awkward adolescence to his time as a marine to his emigration to Russia (led by communist leanings) where he marries; back to the US where he is eventually noticed by a group plotting to (I think if I’ve got this right) attempt an assassination on JFK but not actually carry it out (?) – because of something to do with Cuba and Castro… as you can see a bit of it was lost on me.
The main reason for this is I think the same reason that I don’t especially enjoy Delillo’s work – in that, regardless of subject matter, I don’t find his style of writing particularly engaging. In refreshing my memory of the book via Wikipedia the article notes that Oswald neither presented sympathetically nor demonised; but I think this additional level of detachment adds to the barrier I already feel between myself and Delillo’s characters which is forged by his narrative style and results in an overall lack of interest. I would say that I prefer Libra to either of his other novels (White Noise started out okay but really dragged at the end and didn’t leave a great first impression) but I’m not in any kind of hurry to read a fourth.
I’ve really let this fall to the wayside – but what’s worse is that so has the amount I’m reading at the moment – because I read this a good few months ago (in April/May according to my library record – yes it’s come to me having to check it to recap !). Despite the lack of blog, I did really enjoy this (and it’s one that I can remember reading and have consciously been meaning to update this about it for ages.
What a Carve Up! by Jonathan Coe is something of a murder mystery – somehow I didn’t gleam this from the title but when I brought it up in conversation (rare for me to actually talk about books) the other person guessed straight away – which probably illustrates how obtuse I’m being. It’s the story of a highly misfortunate, vastly rich family (misfortunate mostly through association with each other because most of them are truly odious characters), and their biographer; along with a few other characters unfortunate enough to become associated with them.
The way it’s written is witty and engaging – and there’s definitely something satisfying about reading about characters who are designed to be hated – although the comeuppance they get may be a bit too extreme for someone of normal temperament to be able to relish without at least a pang of guilt. I got through this surprisingly quickly in relation to other things I’ve read recently (Infinite Jest is still ongoing and I’m still enjoying it but it’s still too heavy to facilitate me getting through it any quicker…).
When I picked this up I think I was somehow confusing Samuel Beckett with Saul Bellow – I know the latter is on the list for a couple of titles (one of which I’ve read – Henderson the Rain King – and did not especially enjoy) and have previously read/studied (and did like) Waiting for Godot by the former – so I wasn’t especially looking forward to reading this when I started.
Initially Malone Dies reminded me of the Tin Drum, in that its narrator is writing from his hospital (asylum ?) bed, currently incapacitated and with an apparently lose grip on reality (which could support either hypothesis for bed type). Malone switches between description of his current predicament and the story of a boy called Sapo – who is eventually institutionalised himself (which did blur the lines between him and the narrator). Halfway through Sapo’s story Malone decides that Sapo is a ridiculous name, and the character will henceforth be known as Macmann (again blurring the line between Malone/Macmann by betraying himself as an unreliable narrator).
Although Malone Dies is more abstract than the Tin Drum (but less “magic fiction”-y) I did prefer it – the ambiguity of Malone’s voice and milieu intrigued me rather than annoying me (as it often does). I think this may be the only Samuel Beckett novel on the list and I know that it was initially written in French – which would have been interesting to read alongside the English translation.