Just when I was beginning to despair that Japanese literature wasn't for me - and I say this with a profound love of many things Japanese - Mishima YuJust when I was beginning to despair that Japanese literature wasn't for me - and I say this with a profound love of many things Japanese - Mishima Yukio's 'The Sailor Who fell From Grace with the Sea' jumps in to my reading cue and asserts its credentials. A snowglobe of a book, a well realized tale, evoking a not-so-long-ago Yokohama in evocative imagery, wrapped around a solid tale involving a small cast of characters, compressed with barely a word wasted. A tale that tightens to an inevitable end with mythic resonance that still remains grounded in Yokohama of the time, painted with words, and well translated, I assume. I'm keen to chase up more works from Mishima after reading this gem of a story. ...more
I became aware of this book via Junji Ito's adaptation (purchased, unread as of finishing this book, but now started to read), and read pretty much onI became aware of this book via Junji Ito's adaptation (purchased, unread as of finishing this book, but now started to read), and read pretty much on train trips on a very recent visit to Japan.
Basically a downward spiral of a self-confessed 'failure' of a person, who, in his own words, became 'disqualified as a human being'. At times, a harrowing, monotonous, relentless monologue from an essentially unlikeable character, with a small amount of relatability, yet encouraging very little sympathy.
Another alienating story from a Japanese author - I seem to be reading a few of these recently - told in the form of a series of notebooks, with context provided at the end of the story. An engaging enough story, subject and tone notwithstanding, and looking forward to finishing the Junji Ito manga version. ...more
Purchased and read in Japan, after finding out about it just prior to a trip, and finding it in a bookstore.
A clever-enough satire on Japanese societyPurchased and read in Japan, after finding out about it just prior to a trip, and finding it in a bookstore.
A clever-enough satire on Japanese society from the viewpoint of a patient in a lunatic asylum. Brief, like many Japanese novels seem to be, in stark contrast to the epic length manga series that proliferate in Japan.
All the more poignant with the knowledge that Akutagawa committed suicide shortly after finishing Kappa. He uses these mythological creatures to hold up a madman's view of the absurdity of contemporary (in this case, the early 1920's) Japanese society. It quickly becomes clear that this is a satire, and a poignant moment at the conclusion of the story confirms this beyond all doubt. Meanwhile we are taken on a delirious outsider's view of Japan and its societal expectations.
A charming quick read that nevertheless deserves attention, despite its brevity....more
Another exceptional collection of Borges short (some extremely) fictions, read while on holiday.
The Immortal reads like a literate Lovecraft story. ThAnother exceptional collection of Borges short (some extremely) fictions, read while on holiday.
The Immortal reads like a literate Lovecraft story. There's often something of Lovecraft present in a Borges story, particularly his more overt fantasy (or speculative, if the term fantasy triggers the more academically inclined) stories. Deutsches Requiem is, among other things, an attempt to get inside the head of a fictional person representing perhaps everything Borges despises, which is a path less trodden these days in fiction, for many reasons. The Zahir is a meditation on meaning in language, evocative and bewildering. Ibn-Hakam al-Bokhari, Murdered in His Labyrinth perhaps a deconstructed historical murder mystery, and once again utilizes the Labyrinth as a powerful symbol (or series of symbols) that fascinates Borges and is never far from his writings. The Aleph is an impossible object in an ordinary location.
Borges is capable of presenting the sublimest of conundrums and philosophies in the briefest of works, utilizing fantasy and contempory and historical and biographical works to illuminate language itself, and the fragility of the narrator in a way that no other writer I'm aware of is capable. Far from being shored up with his breathtaking academic background, it has almost had the opposite effect of disintegrating certainty and absolutes, and suddenly everything becomes qualified. It's unnerving and adds a haunting quality to some of his work in a way that mere plot is incapable of.
It is said that Borges rewards re-reading, which is certainly the plan.
And an acknowledgement of the work of the translator, Andrew Hurley, whose 'A note on the Translation' gives some insight on what it means for a work to be translated from another language - in this case Spanish. ...more
In what is likely a clear sign that I will be abandoning my reading of Samuel R. Delaney's 'Dhalgren', I have instead started, and finished, this brilIn what is likely a clear sign that I will be abandoning my reading of Samuel R. Delaney's 'Dhalgren', I have instead started, and finished, this brilliant late-career collection of short stories from Borges.
His cameo in Moore and Burrow's 'Providence' had me head to my shelf and drag out a long-neglected collection, and I'm so glad I did. These stories are quite a remove from the stories I read in 'Labyrinths'. More biographical, more concise, yet, for the most part, still packing the punch that Borges seemed ever capable of. Borges comments from late in his life, reflecting back with a distinct lack of bitterness that one could easily expect from someone 'frail and blind' as he was at the time.
"The years go by, and I've told the story so many times that I'm not sure anymore whether I actually remember it or whether I just remember the words I tell it with."
Nearly every story here is a small literary detonation, told as a softly spoken dictation, still with a power to burrow in to the deep recesses of the mind and linger like few short stories have the power to.
Admittedly, a couple of stories failed to grab me. 'The Bribe' probably just needs a more attentive re-read from me. And 'Avelino Arredondo' was reliant (for readers like myself unfamiliar with a particular piece of South American history) on notes almost as long as the piece itself. 'The Sect of the Thirty' is a delightful piece of pseudo-historical fiction, and finishes with a tantilizing unfinished image that I had to pause and let sink in. 'The Book of Sand' presents an enigma monstrous in possibility. 'The Rose of Paracelsus' is both a job interview gone wrong, and an affirmation of the old maxim 'You can get what you want in life and still be unhappy'. Every story offers worthy observations on many levels, and no doubt will reward re-reads, regardless of its comparitive brevity. Like many masters, more can be said in fewer words.
Now, that other Borges collection sitting on the shelf might need some attention as well. ...more
An utter gem of a book. A wind-down read for the end of the year, consumed in bite-size morsels to savour each entry. Borges compiled a bestiary of imaAn utter gem of a book. A wind-down read for the end of the year, consumed in bite-size morsels to savour each entry. Borges compiled a bestiary of imaginary beings from Myth, folklore and literature, distilled their essence, polished each entry, and presents little literate explosions of fantastic beasts. My only tiny gripes? Not long enough, and, if he was going to include imaginary beasts from C S Lewis, why not Tolkien? No biggie though, just a gem of a cross-cultural exploration of the imagination. ...more
"Thus the days went by at Terralba, and our sensibilities became numb, since we felt ourselves lost between an evil and a virtue equally inhuman."
True"Thus the days went by at Terralba, and our sensibilities became numb, since we felt ourselves lost between an evil and a virtue equally inhuman."
True in 1951, true today, true at every stage in history. Calvino writes a modern fable with an economy of words, a poet's light, incisive brush with words, laden with meaning.
I'd read this tale decades ago, as part of a collection of 3 novella and novels published as 'Our Ancestors', and at the time it struck me as the weaker of the three. With this re-read, many years later, I really should re-visit the other two tales, because if this was the weaker of the three, the others (The Non-Existent Knight and The Baron in the Trees), must merit essential reading. Which is probably true, knowing Calvino.
From a physically untenable proposition comes a charming tale of the Viscount Medardo, cloven by a cannonball in a battle into two halves, a 'Bad 'un' and a 'Good'un'. The town of Terralba is terrorized by the evil half of the Viscount, and it would seem that they are in dire need of the viruous half, who enters the town later. Alas, it would seem that the purely virtuous is as intolerable as the purely evil half of Viscount Medardo. And what on the surface seems like an unlikely tale turns into a fable, every bit as powerful as 'Animal Farm', and every bit as pointed against ideological extremes as it is a fitting critique of the so-called 'culture wars' of our times. All the way through, Calvino maintains the spell of a fable, never preaching, but delivering a mature message nonetheless. Simply put, a gem of a novella, and a joy to (re)read....more
It's probably fortunate that the introduction made reference to this work being judged too harshly according to modern expectations, explaining that wIt's probably fortunate that the introduction made reference to this work being judged too harshly according to modern expectations, explaining that works of this era were more likely styled with a view to being read out rather than read alone and silently. Otherwise, as important to the Arthurian Epics as this work is reported to be, I would have had a harder time of getting through this slim volume. It took awhile to get into the rhythm as such, and I constantly attempted to read it as if reading aloud. So I'm content to let modern expectations fall where they will, and enjoy the content rather than the style. Again, as with previous Arthurian works, I find myself constantly referring back to Boorman's Excalibur, and looking forward to tackling Malory's Le Morte D'Arthur. It seems that de Boron (or whoever wrote this first Arthurian cycle) was the first to Christianize the Arthurian tales. You be the judge as to whether that was a good thing or not *cough* *spiritual appropriation*. That does rather make it a very important development in the Arthurian tales. Not that that made it any easier to read as such. All in all, mercifully short, a good range of historical perspectives, possibly a good story to attend as a recital, and a decent focus (if very Christian) of one of my favourite characters, Merlin....more
Another book that's been in my collection for a very long time that I have finally gotten around to reading. Often touted as a sci-fi tale, it's about Another book that's been in my collection for a very long time that I have finally gotten around to reading. Often touted as a sci-fi tale, it's about as sci-fi as 1984 or any of Ballard's mid to late career books. It's certainly a cautionary tale about a community stifled by its own religious dogma, real and postured. There is a delightful quote, early in the book, that I can't quite find at the moment, about the character Serena Joy, and how she (and everybody else in the Republic of Gilead) has to now live with the consequences of her espoused religious position while she was a tv personality. Boy oh boy has that only become more and more relevant in recent times... Atwood does a marvelous job of weaving a tale of a suffocating, restrained society that is as much a religious Matriarchy as it is a religious Patriarchy. Though the secret party the Commander takes Offred to would indicate that the balance seems to favour the elite men of Gilead moreso. There is no hint as to whether the Wives get up to any illicit shennanigans, for example. While not as bleak as 1984, there is colour, represented by the dress code in Gilead, representative of each role society has forced upon its own. But these colours become their own prison, and come to identify people in the novel, even over their names. One theme running through the book is the subject of people's real names, and the furtive way in which we learn (or do not learn) of characters names before the cultural upheaval of the Republic, at least through the eyes of the narrator, who's real name is also the subject of mystery. The disconnect between the act and intimacy of sex, and indeed of life itself, is brought into stark relief by the conception ritual the handmaidens endure. Offred, as a woman who grew up before the inception of the Republic of Gilead, acts as our barometer of reflecting on the freedoms of our lives, compared to the safety, and cost thereof, of her present life. The tension between freedoms and societal responsibility are reflected upon in a 'discussion' between the Commander and Offred. Seen from the perspective of the ordered and scheduled life of duty in Gilead, the seemingly hedonistic and irresponsible 'past', of our own time seem frightening and barbaric, particularly when reflecting upon violence, sexual and otherwise, upon women of our society. And this makes the justification for the theocracy very seductive, but somewhat hollow considering the imbalace in power between the two characters engaged in the 'discussion'. Ultimately, it would seem, any system that sets up 'elites' against 'non-elites' sets itself up for fundamental problems, no matter how well intended or justified, and 'The Handmaid's Tale' presents this as well as most. Unfortunately, quality dystopian speculative literature of this kind becomes more, rather than less relevant as we move 'forward', and while catch-phrases from 1984 are now firmly entrenched within modern English, the Handmaid's Tale is a quieter voice, less amenable to catch-phrases, though no less powerful. I have only watched the first episode of the tv series, but am more keen to jump back into it upon reading the source. Perhaps, as a result, the Handmaid's Tale may finally step forward into the broader cultural perspective previously enjoyed by the likes of 1984 and offer us its own cautionary tale....more
My first encounter with Borges was the collection 'Labyrinths' in uni, a long time ago. 'Fictions' contains many of the stories collected in 'LabyrintMy first encounter with Borges was the collection 'Labyrinths' in uni, a long time ago. 'Fictions' contains many of the stories collected in 'Labyrinths', so technically counts as a re-read, I guess.
The influence of Borges on some writers that I keep returning to (Eco and Calvino, primarily but not exclusively) is obvious. Borges' playfulness with fiction and metafiction echoes Lovecraft, with his invented books and encouragement of other authors to take up the gauntlet and add to the mythos present, but the tone Borges uses is far less neurotic and more, well, literate. (Disclaimer, many critics use 'neurotic' as a derogatory adjective describing Lovecraft's works. While I agree with the description, I don't particularly see it as a negative, rather more as a positive, particularly effective when describing horror).
Re-reading 'Tlon, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius' and 'The Library of Babel' fleshed out my memory of these explosive short stories. I appear to have completely forgotten all about 'The Circular Ruins', as it read like a new story for me, one that read like a literate Fantasy parable. 'The End', 'The Cult of the Phoenix', and 'The South' were an anti-climactic end to a powerful collection of short stories that rocked and shaped modern fiction.
With a couple more Borges short story collections still on my shelf to read, I'm looking forward to diving in to the wonderful storm of words that Borges can conjure....more
It's always a joy to slip into a Calvino book that I haven't read yet, and one with such an evocative title at that.
The origin of this book, as explaiIt's always a joy to slip into a Calvino book that I haven't read yet, and one with such an evocative title at that.
The origin of this book, as explained in the note at the rear of the book, is Calvino playing with that ages old random story generator, the Tarot decks, in this case the Visconti Pack and the Ancien Tarot de Marseille, neither of which I'm particularly familiar with. My experience with tarot decks were more modern ones, and this charming little book is a reminder of just how much I have forgotten, particularly of the Minor Arcana. But not enough it would seem, as I realized (as Calvino explains in his note) that the traditional meanings associated with each card played little to no part in each story developed from the images. And this likely means a re-read is in order at some stage, as this was a little distracting from the stories being told, which, on the whole, were themselves steeped in older traditional stories, ranging from Shakespearian to Arthurian.
The premise, of a group of travellers meeting in a castle (and a tavern, as there are two tales of tales in this tale...) inexplicably finding themselves struck mute and having to communicate their stories via a sequence of Tarot cards, lends itself to flights of verbal fancy. Calvino's ability to paint with words and evoke tales of forests, vampire kingdoms, folk tales with roots deep in culture but portrayed with a modern experimental style marks this as more than just The Decameron with Tarot cards. As much as I like Calvino's more modern stories, I particularly relish his stories that draw on Medieval or Renaissance imagery. Calvino always has some magic to bring to readers of his books, and fortunately there are still more Calvino books out there on my shelf that I have yet to read and experience for the first time. ...more
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