Gorm
I have no words for how much I admire this novel. Krasznahorkai manages to drag apocalyptical karmic fears of biblical proportions through the mud (literally) of the static miserable lives of Hungarian peasants during the country's Communist regime. It is far from just a political period piece, however, its scale is timless and deals with deep universal concerns of humanity at large. It is an amazing artistic feat to seamlessly balance abstract existential ideas with gritty darkly comedic realism. More specifically, its main themes are chaos (or Satan's incomprehensible order), emptiness and degeneration, human weakness, and how everything is connected and entangled, and how lives and events are endlessly repeated. It is pitch-black, but the edge is smoothed out by dark humor and with both the concern and disdain for the tangible lives and hopes of the book's subjects.
Stylistically it is also brilliant, with long meandering sentences, unique to each character, full of commas and digressions that still ends up lucidly comprehensible. It certainly doesn't feed you with a silver spoon, and I have to admit I was quite confused at parts in the beginning, but once you get used to it, most other novels will seem anemic by comparison. You know it is a special reading experience once you are absorbed by the narrative and characters, struck by its grand apocalyptical themes and metaphors, intrigued by sheer inventiveness and when you're also able to heartily laugh at the same time, often all within once sentence.
I'm looking forward to reading the rest of his novels, Krasznahorkai is an unparalleled and unique genius.
Taksim isn't a novel, it is life. It's not only an amazing meditative experience, an exercise in mindfulness perhaps, but it's also a visceral travel journal of a region I've been absolutely fascinated by ever since I traveled through parts of it, such as Hungary and northern Romania, and read up on the history of these places. If you share my interests, then this book is also a gold mine on that front. It's also a portrait of a Europe in decay, of changing times and of those left behind.
However, most of all what I want to focus on, is that there is so much texture and atmosphere between the pages, something I'm beginning to appreciate more and more in literature. You can smell the thrash and tobacco, feel the texture of mud and leather, see the lights shining from the gas station, taste the cheap alcohol and potatoes, and you can really hear the voice of Wladek through your right ear. I think Stasiuk succeeds at what Woolf was trying to do with Mrs. Dalloway, but through poetic minimalist prose and dark gritty realism similar to that of Cormac McCarthy; to channel life through literature as it really is. There are also some great overall themes on the impact of stories and narratives on individual lives, how they are sometimes more real than what we experience in the present, and sometimes the only thing we have to hold on to.
Stasiuks subjects are a pair of Poles traveling in and around the Carpathians, to backwater towns and gypsie outposts, selling used clothes from the back of an old Ducato van that barely runs. There's an almost post-apocalyptic feel to it all. Our protagonist is a stoic and broken-down man in his late forties who does all the driving and listening, while Wladek is a man whose mouth runs constantly and whose eyes seems to be focused on everything but the present. There are no chapters, no real beginnings and ends, just a stream of different memories, experiences and stories. Some are exciting, some are just plain boring, and others are full of melancholy. Isn't that what life is? The ride continues.
Occasionally quite creepy and suspenseful, but goes off the rails towards the end and falls flat.
Minor spoilers below
A stand-alone entry in the infamous “the Ring” series from Japanese fantasy- and horror author, Koji Suzuki. It's a generation and a half after the events in the first entry, and it builds heavily upon events and some of the descendants of former characters in the series. A CG artist receives a USB stick from an elusive older actress with a video of a guy hanging himself. He is supposed to analyze the video, presumably for film-production purposes, but he starts noticing weird things like the video changing every time he watches it. It quickly becomes apparent that there might me insidious forces working towards hurting and even killing Takanori and his pregnant wife Akane, who at the same time is being stalked by a mysterious man on the streets.
Suzuki writes in a very workmanlike fashion, but it fits the genre well, and especially a book like this where clarity is paramount as a lot of information from past and present is being juggled around at the same time.
So the first half of the book we are mainly following how Takanori is being haunted by the suicide video and how works to untangle a web of eerie clues that connect the suicide video to events and people in his life. This is the best part of the book and the one I enjoyed the most. Suzuki is good at creating suspense and implying scary implications by presenting us with, at first, limited knowledge through Takanori's eyes. The correlation between modern technology and the occult that appear frequently through the book through mediums such as USB sticks, GPS trackers, and car navigation systems is especially done well.
In the second half of the book, the book moves into the realm of science fiction, unfortunately at the cost of suspense and mystery. As Takanori learns more about the phenomena, the less scary it becomes, until the book simply dies out in a sort of anti-climax. Some of the information and science fiction concepts are quite interesting, but they are presented through very brutish exposition and through convoluted language. (Think Final Fantasy or any JRPG's story.)
On the other hand, some of the major questions (especially the antagonist's motives and parts of protagonist's background) that should have been answered clearly are simply left unanswered or used as set-up for the next book in the series. The answers we do get are mostly disappointing. Anti-climax.
Enjoyed it okay though, and was quite good up until the half-way point. Decent refresher and continuation of the Ring lore for the fans.
The first entry in the fantasy series “Skogland” by Thore Hansen. Fresh air of imaginative and unique world and creatures, written in a simplistic and easy-to-read style which fits children and young teens perfectly. Its content, while down-to-earth and simple, is also poetic and contains many wise lectures for the reader to ponder on. As for the series as a whole... read it. Or at least make your kid read it, as this is a series which would fit perfectly for introducing young readers to the fantasy genre while at the same time not aving to worry about your kid being influenced by lowbrowed bravado action and redundant fantasy tropes used in f. ex the D&D books.
Oh, and if you wonder what the series is about: The series ongoing central theme is definitely the balance between civilization vs. nature or civilized vs. primitive. This struggle is portrayed through the journey of an unlikely three clover of friends, the human child Kaim, the forestman Gwan and the dragon. These three begins in this book on a journey through the massive forests of Skogland (Woodlands/Forestlands), a journey which will explore the dynamics between the different intelligent races which inhabit it, the lifestyle of living out in the wild, cultural and racial identity, and unfathomable longing.
Long story short. A series shedding away from the usual run-of-the-mill D&D fantasy, and filled with a vibrant and well-realized world. The balance between humans, animals, nature and civilization is explored in depth and from different interesting angles. Easy to read, childish but wise. Definite read for children interested in fantasy and for adults interested in excellent children fiction.
Asks interesting and hard-hitting moral and ethical questions, particularily of the values of friendship and privacy, but I didn't exactly fall in love with the narrative built around these questions. The main characters themselves were interesting with flaws that expressed well the overarching themes of the novel, but a lot of the peripheral events and characters seemed a bit superfluous to me. I also found it to be a bit overbearing in its attempt to evoke sad or sympathetic feelings, and if it had been made into a Hollywood movie, it would definitly be labeled as a “Oscar-bait” tearjerker.
Nontheless, it was a quick and accessible read, and it is definitly worth your time even if it wasn't my particular cup of tea.
I have read these travel sketches before in connection to a college course about religion in Japanese literature while I exchanged in Japan, and I've been lucky enough to actually visit some of the places referred to in them. I've read it in both Japanese and English, and with a mentor who guided me properly through its language and historical context.
I bought and read this collection again now, approximately one year later, mainly because I cherish some of the passages in “The Narrow Road to the Deep North” and I'm fascinated by its underlying religious/spiritual aspects, as well as some of the artistic ones. To be honest, I am really in awe of Basho for his excellence within his style of poetry and literature, and how perfectly he aligns his art with his religion and way of life. One of the greatest benefits of reading poetry and fiction is being able to emphasize and understand aspects of life in a much more intimate way than non-fiction books could ever hope to do. With Basho, this for me was emphasising and understanding Zen, and concepts like mindfulness, meditation and the beauty of nature more than any self-help book or online article ever have. Japanese (or any culture) culture is also best understood by actually engaging with it rather than simply learning about it.
The way that the concept of impermanence is weaved into the work is also really touching and thought-provoking. I don't subscribe to all these ideas or practice them in my own life, but I do appreciate them mainly thanks to Basho.
However, not necessarily because of inherent faults in his works themselves, but because of personal taste, I found his poetry a bit barren and tame at times, and at his worst, like drawing blood from a stone. It is so understated that it often times comes off as unimpressive, and it is too distanced and tempered for my liking. It is beautiful in the way the moon is beautiful, elegant, but fleeting and unreachable.
SIDE NOTE: Also, modernist poets like Pound, Eliot and especially W.C Williams owe a lot to eastern poets who did what these Americans did centuries before. The mantra of “The beauty and power of the things in themselves” that W.C Williams was preaching is something Basho has mastered. The main difference, in my opinion, is that the westerns poets tend to make their poetry's intentions clear as day, in a way that would seem too bashful for someone like Basho who holds elegance in the highest regard. I do, however, prefer some of these modernist poets over Basho.
The Repairer of Reputations, The Mask and The Yellow Sign are the highlights, as well as the excerpts in the chapter headings. The rest of the stories range from okay to dull. All in all an okay short story collection. Would have rated it higher if it included only the essential Weird Fiction stories and the Prophet's Paradise.
“Everything is a sham. One kind of sham is just as good as the other.”
I think this is the funniest book I've ever read. I'd compare reading this book to listening to your deranged drunk uncle's ramblings. In a way, it's also a literary shitpost, with long tirades and passages that lead to absolutely nothing, and it's hilarious. Like your deranged drunk uncle, it's mental and hilarious, but also sad and poignant. The dialogue and language also remind me of listening to old-timers and older coworkers stories back in my hometown, which makes it very life-like to me.
Nagel must also be one of the most intriguing characters out there. The man is a walking contradiction, much like the book itself. Sometimes he seems like a crazy charlatan, while at others he seems like the only sane person in the world. Everyone in town, except for Nagel's counterpart Minutten, is entrenched in everyday-life, within the walls of material existence. They all care earnestly about politics, business, science, and literature et cetera, while Nagel, though quite knowledgeable and intelligent, stands fervently in opposition to it all. One might say he does this just to get a rise out of people and for laughs, but lines such as “I am sure I am right, but it's so painful and sad that everyone else doesn't think as I do.” hints at a deeper existential pain. In many ways, he lives an impossible existence. He lives in a world where mysteries, such as himself, are just amusements that no one takes seriously and which must always be unveiled and killed off.
There's a lot more to discuss and talk about with this dense self-contradictory book, but for now I will just say that I love it for its serious unseriousness.
This was my first adventure with Somerset Maugham, and I must say that I'm quite impressed by what I read. If I were to get someone into reading classic literature, I would tell them to start with this short story collection for numerous reasons.
Maugham does a lot of things that modern writers of literary fiction are discouraged from doing nowadays: For the most part he is telling us a story rather than showing it, and he sometimes spends numerous pages, more than most authors would do in even a long novel, describing a characters appearance, mannerisms and past. Many less gifted authors would make a hack out of their writing if they were to use the same techniques, but I imagine Maugham as a very shrewd and perceptive observer as he, for the most part, knows what is interesting and what is not. His style makes for incredibly vivid characters and settings.
The prose is also perfect for people who are usually dscouraged from reading classics because of the language. If I were to describe Maughams prose with one word I would say that it is balanced. His sentences are of medium or short length, and although he expresses things clearly and matter of factly, he doesn't shy away from using more poetic and obscure language as well. It's like a perfect hybrid, or link, between the style of prose used in a victorian novel and the economical prose we are used to today.
Another reason to read this is that the short stories utilize an amazingly clear and classical style of plot structure, as if he used Aristoteles “Poetics” like a recipe book and Sophocles tragic plays as examples. His characters of focus usually end up having some sort of fatal epiphany by the end of the short story that brings about their downfall. At the same time, the psychology of his characters rivals that of someone like Henry James or Flannery O'Connor so that their ruin gives actual food for thought for modern readers. Summing it up, he builds his stories on a classical foundation, but fills them with modern psychological and moral depth.
Rain and Macintosh are among the very best short stories I've ever read, and the rest of the stories are of a consistent high quality, which is an achievement itself when it comes to short story collections. I can't give it a full 5 stars as I found that his inabiliy to write female characters were particularily jarring when compared to how well he wrote male characters, and I found that the stories sometimes lack a bit of playfulness or ingenuity that for me would elevate them to a bit of a higher level. As someone who is not a particularily big fan of short stories however I must say that this collection is up there for me as one of the most enjoyable and consistent ones, alongside Flannery O'Connors “Everything That Rises Must Converge”. Recommended!
One of my favorite books of the ones I've read this year. It's amazing that the author managed to cram so much into just about 70 pages, using a single sentence, and still making it so readable, poignant and even funny. Although I would definitely label it as a postmodern work, the plot is easy to follow and the language is clear. The best part of the novella is that it is always hinting at something without really explicitally revealing what it is in detail, like building tension up to a high point without ever revealing it, leaving the reader to extend that tension beyond the pages. It isn't merely personal crisises or small-scope fears that Kraszhahorkai hints at, they are universal and apocalyptic in nature, which makes the incomprehensibility of it so much more ominous.
This incomprehensibility is expressed through (among other techniques such as multiple layers of narration) using the barrier of communication and language to thwart true understanding and meaning. The protagonist is a defeated German philosopher, sitting in a bar in a Turkish-dominated area of Berlin, telling a story after-the-fact to a Hungarian bartender about the time he went to Spain to write about a wolf in an area on the outskirts of the civilized world, using a translator to speak with locals. This play with language and communication is simply brilliant, and leads to moments of both defeat and exasparation, as well as humor.
If I were to compare The Last Wolf to other writers, I would say that it takes the fear of the incomprehensible that Conrad, Mishima and Lovecraft expresses in his more subtle work and mixes it with the virility of characters and crisises from the works of Kafka and Dostoevsky. If you can find it, I definitely recommend others this book!
A kind of enclyopedia which tries to define terms to the inner mechanics and workings of game design. Filled to the brink with detailed and in-depth information, and the terms that the book defines and explains to you will help you immensly in recognising and breaking down how games works and are designed. My only gripe with it is that it would have been improved with better illustrations. For a foreign-language reader some of the language could also be a little heavy, but do not quote me on that one to apply to the average reader.
A definite read for someone even remotely associated or interested in games, wheter it be table-top games, card games, sports or video games.
One of the best books I read this year. Its short length if just right for what is trying to convey, and all the characters are written excellently. Descriptions of the decaying, but industrious harbor of Yokohama is also a poignant frame for the novel overall. On purely formalistic terms, I think this novel is excellent.
This book dealt with nihilism, or as some of the characters in this book expresses it “the emptiness of the world”, in an unsettling, but also in an honest and beautiful way that really speaks to me. Some of the characters find sparks in the emptiness that truly moves them, but they all realize in some way that the sparks are either impermanent, false or unrealistic, and for one of them something one has to give up.
How does one deal with the emptiness: Fill it with blood? Glory in death? Adventure? Living truly honestly? Or perhaps compromising somehow is the only realistic option. As someone who was, and still is to some lesser degree, a disillusioned youth, I appreciate this book for its beauty in its portrayal of dangerous, but honest, nihilism, apathy, and disillusionment.
Fresh air of imaginative and unique world and creatures, written in a simplistic and easy-to-read style which fits children and young teens perfectly. Its content, while down-to-earth and simple, is also poetic and contains many wise lectures for the reader to ponder on. As for the series as a whole... read it. Or at least make your kid read it, as this is a series which would fit perfectly for introducing young readers to the fantasy genre while at the same time not having to worry about your kid being influenced by lowbrowed bravado action and redundant fantasy tropes used in f. ex the D&D books.
Oh, and if you wonder what the series is about: The series ongoing central theme is definitely the balance between civilization vs. nature or the civilized vs. the primitive. This struggle is portrayed through the journey of an unlikely three clover of friends, the human child Kaim, the forestman Gwan and the dragon. These three travels through the massive forests of Skogland (Woodlands/Forestlands), a journey which will explore the dynamics between the different intelligent races which inhabit it, the lifestyle of living out in the wild, cultural and racial identity, and longing.
Long story short. A series shedding away from the usual run-of-the-mill D&D fantasy, and filled with a vibrant and well-realized world. The balance between humans, animals, nature and civilization is explored in depth and from different interesting angles. Easy to read, childish but also wise. Definite read for children interested in fantasy and for adults interested in excellent children fiction.
Gave it 5 stars because reading this was really enjoyable. The directness and decadence of both the alternate reality Europe and the narrator himself come off as funny, but also poignant and refreshing. At its core, I do really believe that the book is about how the individual is lost without a firm force guiding the individual's life, like a religion, traditional values, strong families etc. “Submission” under something can, of course, be oppressive when taken too far, but total freedom might also be dangerous, something many realist and modernist authors already have expressed their anxiety about through tons of books from over hundred years prior to this one. Huysman is a great device to illustrate this, and also works as a mirror to the book's narrator.
Of course, the book is very satirical, so it shouldn't be read as a doomsday manuscript of our near future (or should it?). The narrator is clearly a hypocrite and in general not reliable nor a bastion of morality. The political situation portrayed in the book is super farfetched. Personally, I'm quite left-leaning politics-wise, and the book isn't really about that anyway. It's simply a funny and no-holds-barred critique that creates debate, and I appreciate that.
As a big Murakami fan, I can safely say that this (alongside Sputnik Sweetheart) is among my least favorite ones. This novel is considered by fans and critics alike to be one of his best ones, so it obviously has something to it, and I do see the appeal, but I'm guessing that it's just not for me. I was kind disappointed honestly. I found the Sci-fi/Fantasy concepts in the book uninteresting, and I think too much dry exposition (almost three whole chapters in the middle of the book) was used to convey something that really wasn't that complicated. I also think it's one of his novels where the negative Murakami cliches felt the most grating. Sleazy objectification of women, which I wouldn't usually mind if it helps build a certain character or theme or to convey a certain message, but knowing Murakami, it's simple self-insertion without much literary function. This is usual Murakami, but I thought it was notably strong in this particular novel and just enhanced the rest of what I found to be negative.
However, I'm giving the novel a bit of a pass by rating it a 3-star. The Norwegian translation was absolutely horrible, and I wish I had read the English or Japanese one instead. As someone who's worked in translation a bit, it is actually laughably bad at some points. There are numerous grammatical mistakes, weird/outdated choices of translations for lexical words, and unnatural syntax all over the place. I'm sure that the Japanese or even the translated English versions prose is much more natural than in mine.
It wasn't necessarily a bad reading experience. I am a big Murakami fan for a reason, and I did enjoy parts of the novel here and there. I thought it picked up especially towards the end, after the ascent from the “underworld”, in what I'd describe as the novels Act 3. I'm also one of those people who love descriptive passages of cooking and coffee-drinking, and I thought the literary references in this novel was unusually apt (if somewhat quickfire) to be Murakami. Once again he is successful in creating what I call a “cozy atmosphere”. Some of the key themes in the novel are also wonderfully worked into the plot and concepts of the book, so in that sense, it's all well put-together. This guy definitely knows how to write.
It all did simply not appeal to me that much this time around. There was no spark. It's probably me more than you, Murakami, and I still like you, but this date went a bit meh. I'm looking forward to our next meeting!
I'm usually not a fan of these types of post-modern novels drenched in metaphors, meta-commentary, and meandering monologues, but Travesti (which I've read means something like a transvestite, but also a parody in literary terms) was a surprisingly enjoyable reading experience despite my initial doubts.
Despite its short length, it is an incredibly multi-layered novel which explores multiple themes, most of them psychological in nature. Especially neuroticism and its root causes (trauma and isolation in this case) which manifests itself through the narrators vivid and dark hallucinations and intrusive thoughts. The novel is told through a first-person narrator (Victor) from mainly two different periods of his life; his 17-year-old lonely and pretentious self from summer camp, and his 34-year-old successful writer self in a manic state up in a mountain resort trying to erase his trauma through writing. The tone of especially the 17-year-old narration is very cynical as he condemns virtually everything and everyone, but one can also sense that there is an ironic undertone to it all which keeps it from tipping into the realm of genuine pretentious edginess and which fits well with the overarching theme of “parody” that the title suggests.
The novel constantly jumps back and forth in time, as well as in and out of Victor's hallucinations. but despite this, the narrative ends up as surprisingly easy to follow. In fact, as someone who frequently hallucinates during fevers and has been inflicted with haunting intrusive thoughts in stressful periods, I could personally relate a lot to both the content and structure of this novel.
An especially relevant literary reference that is made multiple times in the book is to the British 17th-century poet John Donne. This novel borrows a lot of themes and imagery directly from his poetry, specifically his metaphysical poems filled with conceit such as “The Flea” and “The Bait” where “ugly” imagery such as blood-sucking fleas and fish and bait are used as erotic metaphors. In Travesti, Cartarescu frequently uses a spider sucking out the life of its helpless prey as metaphors for sex. Other scenes such as an emotionless and animalistic threesome, is further used to present the relationship between the sexes as something that boils down to pure sadism and masochism. On the other hand, he at some points presents us with pastoral imagery, such as pure young lovers holding hands naked in a flower field. However, everything that is of the flesh is represented to us as disgusting and animalistic, and Victor, like Donne later in his life, seeks to distance himself from it at the cost of his sanity and sense of community.
Without spoiling anything, I also want to mention that one of the major plot points of the novel revolves around the protagonist being haunted by a meeting with a transvestite in his past, his “chimera” as he calls it. We can deduce that image of a transvestite stands for the duality of the masculine and feminine within an individual being externally expressed to its fullest. This is interestingly enough his strongest trauma (or trigger?) haunting his next 17 years of life. This confrontation between the sexes is also a major theme in this novel, which brings me to another apt literary reference.
Victor at some point refers to himself as Roderick Usher, a major character in Edgar Allan Poe's gothic short story “The Fall of the House of Usher”. In this short story, Roderick ends up locking his own twin sister within a coffin and covers up the door with brick walls as he believes her to be deceased. Later on, it is revealed that she was still alive and that she woke up from her coffin and broke out of her seal, causing great distress and crisis. In Travesti, memories of a supposedly deceased sister also haunt the protagonist's hallucinations, and the imagery of locked doors and monstrous sisters frequently shows up. Cartarescu likens the ransacking self-analysis of one's own brain and especially our memories to the wanderings of an old decrepit villa. Shame with public restrooms. Loneliness with empty buildings. Sexual duality within statues of nymphs. Flesh, bodily fluids, and insides conveying nausea and disgust. This type of psychological exploration of grotesque semi-metaphorical locations and objects also reminded me of games such as Silent Hill, Evil Within and Amnesia. If you like those, read this.
All of this imagery; transvestites, locked doors, fleshy corridors, and insects/spiders makes for a beautifully put together psychological novel on trauma and sex. All the metaphors are wonderfully purposeful and strong in the context of the protagonist's characteristics and history, and they work well when juxtapositioned with the actual non-metaphorical events of the novel. My only complaints are that some of the hallucinatory scenes meander on a bit and the monologues sometimes repeat their points too much or get a bit off track. It is also concluded somewhat awkwardly, though fortunately satisfactory enough to make all the build-up worth it.
Some of the themes I didn't touch upon much is those of isolation, the struggle between the art and the artist, and the one between the physical and the metaphysical. I salute Cartarescu for writing a novel packed full of so many ideas and themes and managing to make it into a cohesive and accessible read. For anyone interested in novels about mania, trauma and sex told through hallucinations and dreams full of disgusting (and beautiful) fleshy metaphors and allusions, try this. I will definitely be rereading this sometime.