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.
What can be said about this seminal work of literature? Cat people really just do be like that.
Adorable, short book about cats.
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.
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.
5.5/10
sex scenes were hot, but it was weirdly short, the protagonist was 5% too annoying, and the narrative was too ludicrous (she hates him because she randomly thinks he is performing corporate espionage??)
8/10
lovely poetic language, particularly the descriptions of birds and Australia. meandered a bit but ending brought it all together. sad
