7 posts tagged “book reviews”
Secret Rendezvous is one of Kobo Abe's lesser known novels. It is however still a superb novel from one of Japan's postmodern masters. The story opens with a man and a horse man. The horse man will be developed much later, but we our focus is the man. The narrative takes the shape of three "notebooks" representing his memories of the events surrounding his wife's disappearance, and the bizarre hospital where she was taken. The symbol of his wife being taken away by ambulance while protesting that she is healthy invokes a real sense of fascism. There are many undercurrents, but this theme will be revisited time and time again throughout the novel, the power of doctors and health providers over patients.
Kobo Abe has achieved with Secret Rendezvous what William Burroughs had attempted for much of his career: a surreal examination of the psychosexual nature of power structures. This is as strange as anything that Burroughs had ever conceived of. Abe works from that same sense of otherness, but with much less of a prurient nature. Whereas Burroughs seemed to want to challenge the puritans and conformists of the 50's Abe doesn't seem to care. This distance from your reaction allows the novel to unfold with a much more natural feel. The sex and surrealism floats off the pages delicately, not ripping forward like Burroughs.
Abe's use of language aids this more delicate touch. Japanese, even in translation, is a language of poetry and metaphor. Abe uses this to bring you into the depths of the character. In a scene set in an underground wing of the hospital, the scene comes to life slowly like a boiling teapot. By the end of the description Abe has given birth to a scene so real that you can smell the earthiness. While this novel is quite troubling in some parts, in others funny, and the mood twists and turns with the unnamed man's journey. Abe is not for the easily offended, or those who seek conventional literature. However he is a master at surrealism that feels natural, as if this reality, however twisted, is just how it should be.
Mad is always a part of growing up American, or at least it was for a few generations. Although only being twenty-five I missed out on the original incarnation of the staff by quite some time. While the style is still rigidly imitated today, and the humor is largely the same it does lack a certain spark.
For Mad's 50th Anniversary Icon Books reprinted the run of paperbacks that are the only way to find a lot of the original Mad Magazine material. As I said much of the humor is the same. The culture being spoofed is vastly differnet, and put in that perspective, I can see how this passed for edgy in the 1950's.
This is a quick read, and worth it too. Harvey Kurtzman was a genius, and as the original writer for Mad it had a sinister grin the has turned into a slack jaw over time. Comedy historians should really take interest becuase this is the birth of modern American satire.
As William S. Burroughs had made clear Naked Lunch is not a novel. It is a surreal experiment akin to Salvador Dali. Burroughs played with images that haunted the edge of consciousness as he tried to get off of Heroin. In fact the book plays out as if one would have followed Bill Lee (Burroughs alter-ego) down the opiate rabbit hole. The book open as Lee escapes from narcotics agents in the New York subway. From here we travel throughout the world along a thread of sex, drugs, and political intrigue. You will meet Bill Lee again at the end of the book, but he is nowhere to be found in the intervening pages.
Characters, and settings come and go. The book is broken up into what Burroughs calls “routines,” giving credit to the spoken word nature of each of the pieces. Dr. Benway is a character that does find his way into the text again and again. A twisted Dr who admires cancer for its ruthless efficiency, he is a twisted figure. Employed by various states to research more effective forms of control. One of the most powerful motif is the state run amok trying to control the vices of the population. Every inch of the text in Naked Lunch is a metaphor and you must read contextually. A cigar is most certainly not a cigar, and twisted gay sex is not twisted gay sex, well not all the time anyway. Many authors can pull you into their dreams, but Burroughs brings you into his paranoid nightmares with a voracious power.
When you finally return to Lee at the end of a long and exhausting trek through the worst of humanity, we find him still on the run. There seems to be a question of the reality, and nature of what we have seen. Burroughs has left that to interpretation, as the Lee sequences seem to act as a framing device for Burroughs' surrealism. It does ground the narrative, well what passes for one anyway. This is not for the timid, or those seeking traditional literature. Like all of the Beats, Burroughs is pushing the definition of literature. Surrealism has a solid place in literature today because of Naked Lunch. While this not Burroughs most definitive work (The Exterminator!) or his most well written (The Trilogy of Cities of The Red Night, The Place of Dead Roads, and The Western Lands), but it does serve to introduce you to his visions, and to characters that reappear in his later work. I would not recommend that the unfamiliar start with this book, because of its unconventional nature, but pick up some of his spoken word work to get an idea of what you are in for.
Miles by Miles Davis and Quincy Troupe is a wonderful book. Based off of long conversations with Davis about his life, Troupe manages to capture Davis' passionate voice very accurately. If you have ever wanted to know the story of Jazz from the inside, this is the book to read. Although because Davis has had some very public spats with other artists, critics, and even his family, Miles seems more about setting the record straight then telling a story.
Miles Davis' was born to be a musician, and his journey to the top of the jazz world is filled with a picture of America that few people care to remember. Segregation and racial tension are constant themes from the book, especially Miles resentment of white jazz critics refusing to acknowledge new forms of jazz until it was played by white players. Of course he equally criticizes the people who resented him working with white musicians like Bill Evans (Piano Player on Kind of Blue).
Miles was quite self-promoter and that ego carries over into the pride that has for his work. Each step of his career is reviewed along with quite a lot of name dropping. Two of his relationships stand out though; the tragic figures of Charlie "Bird" Parker, and John Coltrane. Miles played with Charlie Parker for a huge part of his early career, even when he was breaking out as a solo artist. Bird of course was a junkie, and seemed to be the catalyst for a lot of the problems with heroin that ran throughout the scene. Miles speaks of Bird like he was a second father; it seems to break his heart that they ended on such bad terms. John Coltrane and Miles Were very close, as Trane developed his signature style while playing with Miles. They had a tense friendship, and Trane descended into his drug addiction, which was after Miles had kicked his own habit. This tension was out of love, but their friendship suffered in the end.
The details of Miles' own struggle with heroin are long and sordid. This part of the book is not for the sensitive, as the reality of a junkie's life is quite harsh. His road to recovery was one of unrepentant sin, on par with anything Irving Welsh could conjure up. Of course you slap your head when he ends up strung out again this time on Cocaine.
The later part of the book tends to drag, as Miles took a back seat to the guys in his bands, working more to create group ensembles that pushed the boundaries of Jazz. While Miles still had quite a bit to do with the music, but it was more in managing new talents, and pushing players to try new ideas.
Any fan of Jazz should pick up this book simply for the wealth of who's who type information and the inside story on the evolution of American Jazz. The final chapters paint a portrait of a man ready to live another 60 years, and keep making music for its own sake. It's sad that he died because his voice and unique story shouldn't fade away.
There are two types of novels: the first is a light novel that events happen and there is little or no examination of the consequences and the other are very dense philosophical novels that deal with ideas much larger than the narrative. Albert Camus' The Stranger falls heavily into the latter category. Camus has written a slim novel here, but each page is fully realized, and anything longer would have pulled the punch of his message. Camus details the life of Meursault, and what happens to him after his mother dies. Meursault does not care much for life in general; he can take it or leave it. He does not weep for his dead Mother, he does not particularly love his girlfriend, he does not feel regret, and it doesn't seem to be the usual ennui of French novelists. Meursault seems to care little for the conventional life, but he is never rude or spiteful.
Camus has a symbol that runs through the novel, heat. The heat seems to warn Meursault of his nearing fate. Each time he seems to alienate those around him, or those around him judge harshly, he feels the temperature rise. The climax of the novel takes place on a beach in the intense summer sun. Now the quick reaction is to assume that the symbol of heat is some sort of metaphysical symbol, as Camus clearly cares little for the religious symbols of the "establishment", this is a doubtful conclusion. It seems more likely that Meursault is meant to be a martyr. Whenever he draws himself closer to this fate, he touches the third rail that drives his life. Although Camus was not a believer in fate, so maybe it just Meursault's own conscience warning him of the worse yet to come.
The Stranger is equal parts treatise, and omen. The conflict between the Catholic Magistrate and Meursault is telling of the current battles between the faithful and the prophets of reason. Abusrdism is clearly explained here in this volume, as well as laying out its place in the landscape. While Camus is frequently associated with French existentialism, absurdism is its own philosophy. This novel is a great introduction to both the man and his philosophy.
Poor sad Jack. Well, in this case poor sad Ray. Kerouac is one of the greatest American writers, and this in spite of the fact that he vexed editors and grammarians alike. I always loved his books, although his first, The Town and the City where he worked with a much more traditional style. The Dharma Bums is one of the big three, along with On The Road, and The Subterraneans.
There is a large amount of mythos surrounding both Kerouac, and the Beats. Kerouac's work has a large part in creating that mythos, and The Dharma Bums is no different. Centering around Kerouac's nascent Buddhism. Her travels around with Japhy (Gary Snyder), experimenting with various Buddhist practices.
While I could detail the story for you, it isn't important. While Kerouac seems to be treading the same ground as On the Road. It is, however, is a spiritual journey, that mirrors his physical journey. As I had reread this book, I was more struck by passages that stand out for a Kerouac fan. There are a few passages where Keroauc seems to be warning himself about his drinking, as well as being warned by others. It is a forewarning of the spiraling alcoholism that crippled him in later life. It saddens me because it seems Kerouac drank because life was too much for him. The Dharma Bums shows you the Kerouac was desperate to escape depression, he tried through Buddhism, but his heart wasn't in it. Kerouacs books always fill me with sadness, the man was a genius, but he was depressed. It also depresses me that every piss-poor English major attempts to be deep by copying his style. Kerouac's sadness was universal, and connected to the soul, and it doesn't work if you're depressed for the women.
A certain swath of Americans, usually pseudo intellectuals determined to uphold the reputation as "caring souls", are obsessed with looking in the mirror. It is not a matter of worrying about the bulge in the tummy anymore; it is a worry that all of us are now the ugly American. There have been many poor attempts by American writers to define this. Lacking the cultural identity needed, they fell flat. Moshin Hamid has the right background, and his novel The Reluctant Fundamentalist, is the right story to give us a view of ourselves. Make no mistake this is not a diatribe of rhetoric, it is a deeply human novel.
Hamid indulges himself, thinking he is a bridge between America and the Islamic world. He projects this same indulgent idea upon his narrator Changez. A Pakistani educated at Princeton, he at first is the illustrious American Dream. The brave immigrant works hard, and finds success in the Land of Opportunity. While this myth has never been true, it is even a more fleeting dream today, than in the 19th century New York that spawned it. First Changez gets the ultimate job with the finance firm, Underwood-Samson. This is a very prestigious position that few of his classmates even qualify for. On a class trip he begins to woo, a co-ed Erica, beating out a few competing suitors for her affections. Soon it becomes apparent that neither of these are as great as he thought.
The author has stated in many interviews that the difference in America before and after September 11th is central to the novel. While that maybe true, the event itself is the climax of the book, it seems that painful nostalgia is the real theme. The characters are all chasing something that is long dead. Erica her dead boyfriend, Changez's boss his lost roots, and Changez his embattled homeland. America's nostalgia for the imagined era of dominance and certainty is a central theme, a renewed suspicion of the globe.
This is the mirror that many have been looking for, but it nor what everyone will want to hear. Hamid drives at the heart of the dichotomy of like most Americans, but like America. The odd role that we play in the world with a self conscious swagger doesn't hold up well to examination. It is not the most revolutionary viewpoint, and not the most original. Hamid seems to want you to know that, Changez is one of many. These spurned lovers of our country, are unhappy, and unlike your ex-girlfriends they aren't just going to disappear with some time. The shocking end of this novel is a vessel to hold your concept of the world. It is a sort of ideological paint by numbers.
Hamid does not seek to scald us like children. There is certain cleverness in present, and not in the smirking McSweeney's manner. The narrative is constructed as a dialog between Changez and a faceless American in a Lahore Cafe. The long passages of Changez's life are interspersed with reminders of the cafe, and his questions about his guest. To temper the clever structure there is a deep sadness as well. It is a true document of the new world. While the message is not a new one, it has never managed to be so human. Cangez is a vulnerable real human being, not able to be put into the box of "other."
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