Matt
“It hardly mattered to him that the book was forgotten and that it served no use; and the question of its worth at any time seemed almost trivial. He did not have the illusion that he would find himself there, in that fading print; and yet, he knew, a small part of him that he could not deny was there, and would be there.”
4/5 = Liked it.
This was my first collection of stories by Carol Oates, and I came away reasonably impressed. Would definitely recommend to others, but I think some of the stories were clearly better than others, and I did find the stories (while clearly distinct) overlapped enough thematically and with their characterisation that I was a little disappointed at the total package.
Cardiff, by the Sea (4 stars)
Not knowing at first these were gothic/horror stories, I was on the back-foot during the beginning of this story, but cued in to the vibe once the protagonist had met her two long-lost aunts and the story had taken a turn towards unsettling.
This is the longest and perhaps (tied with Phan-tomwise, 1972) the most stereotypically ‘gothic' = a long-lost inheritance from an unknown family, creepy relatives, ambiguous deaths in the past, and the haunting of those left behind. While I thought the atmosphere of the story was effective at developing tension and suspense, particularly during the car-ride to the house and in the aunt's house, I thought the story dragged on slightly, taking too long to get into the meat of the story. I would definitely have appreciated fewer words about the protagonists current life, and more exploring the gothic town of Cardiff.
Having said that, once the story got into the swing of things I was definitely hooked, and I found the ambiguity of the narrative compelling. Personally, I think the protagonist was sane, and that her father had committed the murders - but I did appreciate the lack of closure with relation to these central questions.
Miao Dao (4 stars)
As a cat lover, I had mixed feelings about the topic of this story - appreciating the focus on the mistreatment of stray cats, whilst not particularly enjoying hearing about it! This was a solid story, but I do somewhat question its inclusion in this collection - it was the least ‘gothic' in feel and had the least connected protagonist to the other narratives. I also found the sexual abuse of the protagonist slightly heavy-handed - I think it would have made the story more interesting if the father-in-law's crimes were only hinted at, or even if the reader was forced to consider the possibility that he had been innocent. Instead, Carol Oates paints a pretty despicable picture of a man who gets all that he's coming to him by feline claws or father's knife.
All in all, a solid story, but one that probably could have been removed to make the whole package tighter (or replaced with a more fitting story).
Phan-tomwise, 1972 (5 stars)
Cliche as it may be, this was my personal favourite. Young student sleeping with elderly humanities professor is a trope as old as time, but I liked this spin on it - the protagonist spending most of the narrative helping an unrelated elderly poet to the subject of her desire, who covets her as much as an object of childhood inspiration than as a sexual being. Most of the narrative was predictable, but I personally did not see the final twist of her ethereal return coming, which probably should have been guessed when you consider the genre. There isn't much to say specifically about this story, but I just found it a really strong, tight narrative with a sad ending - which is pretty much all that I'd want from horror.
The Surviving Child (4 stars)
Another solid story surrounding a depressed poet, a haunted house, and a man of ill-repute. While I did enjoy this, it was here that I started finding the narrative of the overarching collection somewhat repetitive - female protagonist who isn't sure what is happening, hostile male presence who is the main antagonist, hints at the paranormal, seeped in ambiguity. While these are perfectly good elements for gothic horror, I just wish the collection hadn't repeated them throughout, particularly after the previous story had just done this narrative but, in my opinion, more successfully.
Having said all of that, the story was strong, and I particularly appreciated how utterly creepy Carol Oates writes the boy - cold and pale, we are never quite sure if he is really there. The descriptions of the objects in the trees also stood with me after finishing. There's a cautionary tale here about marrying older men with money and no morals - but I'll leave it to smarter writers than myself.
4/5 = Liked it.
Reasonably solid, typical Poirot novel. A wealthy woman is murdered on a train voyage, with limited suspects who cut across the fabric of social life in the mid-war period. Poirot is roped in, we follow his unorthodox investigation, before the murderer is finally uncovered towards the end. All in all, pretty standard fare.
As Poirot mysteries go, I think this is reasonably middle-of-the-pack. The characterisation was strong - I particularly enjoyed Katherine Grey, the sympathetic companion who has recently come into a large sum of money. Her exposure to the self-absorbed financial class she suddenly finds herself ensconced with provides the novel with a clear conduit for social commentary, while still providing Katherine enough personality and agency to feel like a fully-fledged actor in the novel.
However, the start of this novel was very weak, following a trite and melodramatic jewel sale, and the novel simply takes too long getting to the actual mystery. Christie is a solid writer of what she does well (mysteries and minor social commentary) and a weak writer at literally anything else. The further her books stray from these core pillars, the weaker they become - and this introduction is a particularly weak example.
Additionally, the resolution of the novel left me wanting. While it was not logistically impossible for a reader to solve it, the novel keeps enough clues away from us that by the time Poirot reveals the real answer I did feel like I had been hampered. It's not true to say that the only fun from a Christie comes from the resolution - they are too fun for that to be ever true - but there is a joy in trying to guess the murderer before Poirot, and I think this novel hides enough from the reader to preclude that possibility.
Nonetheless, a solid read.
5 stars = loved it.
Masterful book exploring what it means to be a reader, and more importantly why we choose to read.
Like many of Calvino's novels, it's really just a collection of short stories, linked together with some broader narrative. Calvino was part of a literary movement called ‘Oulip” which was a French movement to write books with constrained writing techniques. Constraints are used as a means to trigger ideas and inspiration - idea is to limit yourself in writing to develop the art. In ‘Winter's Night', we follow a second-person ‘Reader' who is sitting in to read a novel (the titular book), when upon finishing the first chapter he discovers that there has been a printing error and the book is incomplete. Thus begins his journey to find the conclusion of this book, in the process discovering a series of incomplete narratives, a sinister plot to destroy meaning in literature, and a companion known as the ‘other reader'.
The book alternates narratives - each numbered chapter progressing this main narrative, while each titled chapter presenting the opening to a new novel, none of which are ever finished. The book focuses on intertextuality - each book within the novel features either in prose or theme a reference to another form of writing or narrative; a Western chapter feels like a Sergio Leone film, a crime chapter feels like a Raymond Chandler, and so forth. These stories are left hanging - I can understand why some people might fight the lack of closure or the meaninglessness of the plot to be a barrier, but to me it was a strength. By refusing continuation of the end of the subnovels, it feels like something has been obscured rather than something has not been created, which gives the stories weight.
I found the book broadly humorous - I liked the 1984 allusions to thought crime towards the end, and the meta chiding of the book towards the reader when he engages in pretty unnecessary sex towards the end. I also liked the part where the reader is at the editors room of the publisher and all the different drafts are mixed up.
I thought the prose was very vivid and evocative, leaning purple but never fully turning all the way. Some words definitely went over my head, but not too many. Some of my favourite quotes include:
‘It is only through the confining act of writing that the immensity of the nonwritten becomes legible, that is, through the uncertainties of spelling, the occasional lapses, oversights, unchecked leaps of the word and pen. Otherwise what is outside of us should not insist on communicating through the word, spoken or written: let it send its messages by other paths.'
‘We can prevent reading: but in the decree that forbids reading there will still be something of the truth that we would never wish to be read'
I wonder if on a re-read the book is more or less interesting - foreknowledge that each story will end without closure might make you less invested - but I think there is a broader point in that the book resists finality and asks you to consider the worth of a narrative that lacks closure.
Anyway = easy 5, classic book.
4/5 = Liked it.
Pretty good collection of short stories, although with the sheer number of stories some were clearly better than others. Calvino is a great writer, so nothing ever warranted a skip, but I definitely found the stories at the start of the collection (thematically based on young men in the mountains) to be weaker than the latter stories (thematically based on love (hence the title)).
My personal favourite was the ‘The Adventure of a Photographer', a beautiful story on the power of the image:
‘The line between the reality that is photographed because it seems beautiful to us and the reality that seems beautiful because it has been photographed is very narrow... The minute you start saying something, “Ah, how beautiful! We must photograph it!” you are already close to the view of the person who thinks that everything that is not photographed is lost, as if it had never existed, and that therefore, in order really to live, you must photograph as much as you can, and to photograph as much as you can you must either live in the most photographable way possible, or else consider photographable every moment of your life. The first course leads to stupidity; the second to madness.'
I also quite liked the two beach stories: the first about a man who is so obsessed with reading that he ignores a beautiful woman, and the second about a woman who is trapped while swimming because her swimmers fall off in the water.
A solid read of interesting and sometimes thought-provoking stories.
