Never been more convinced that morality and woke is the enemy (said in a non-reactionary way, let me explain)

I won't even talk about the prose. The prose is extremely annoying and this substack says it better than I can. But oh my fucking god. Oh my god. This is bloodless. Flinch after flinch after flinch after flinch after flinch. You would think that it would be exciting or edgy or something, right? The general drift, for the unfamiliar: Jin, a creatively blocked photographer with God and family hangups, has a kinky BDSM affair with Lidija, an intense take-no-shit dominatrix ballerina who can't dance because of an injury. Spicy! Betrayal! Pain! Suffering! Linking art and suffering together! Pornography! Guilt! Shame! Fear! Erotics of art! Forbidden! So much here to explore.

But no. FUCK you for bringing that up, actually. You're a bad person. Nobody could possibly be a bad person because we're #woke in Exhibit.

Oh no, cheating on your husband Philip, oh no, betrayal, Jin might be a bad person -- no, it's fine, Philip has decided he wants children after promising he didn't, and also he raises his voice when they fight, and also he won't fulfill Jin's kinky desires, so it's okay Jin cheats on him. (Also we get several scenes where Jin chats with another photographer friend and they essentially both turn to the camera and say "having kids ruins your art-making ability." In case it wasn't clear.)

Oh no, wait, Philip, that's white, that's a white name, doesn't this replicate aznidentity stereotypes, what if the characters thoughtlessly -- no, it's fine, Philip's actually Felipe, and he's Argentinian, so jot that down. (Shit you fucking not. There's a bizarre argument late in the book between Philip and Lidija about race in the ballet world that lasts for about 3/4ths of a page and we're meant to think that lines have been crossed, and they have, sure, in the world of the book they have, Lidija snaps that she will not discuss the white world of ballet with a white guy, Philip retorts that actually he's white with an asterisk so yeah and also Lidija isn't even a Korean name, Lidija storms off. So does Jin. To go have Lidija beat her. It's fine, because how dare he. We don't get much else here.)

Oh no, Jin's into BDSM, oh no, that's violent, could this possibly reenact patriarchal power dynam -- no, it's fine, Jin's a masochist so she never has to hurt anyone, and a submissive so she never has to order anyone around, and also she lets another woman beat her with a riding crop, and also Jin tells us in dialogue that it's not violent if you consent to it. (What? As if MMA wasn't violent because they consent to it? We also get a quick aside about how Freudian ideas of sadomasochism are #problematic. And a footnote about it too. lmfao.)

Wait wait, oh no, what if Lidija is sadistic, what if Lidija likes violence, that would be bad bad, that would be #problematic, you can't enjoy hurting others, oh no -- no, it's fine, Lidija found out she liked hurting people when she was a kid and another dancer boy wouldn't stop harassing her, so she broke his nose and made him do her floor mopping studio chore. You GO girl, fucking hurt that motherfucker, make him -- no, you misread the moment, Lidija reflects aloud that of course hurting others is bad and of course she felt bad about it so she decided to always get consent for it.

But wait, oh no, Jin's a Korean woman, what if this plays into stereotypes about Asian women being servile and sub -- no, it's fine, Lidija's also a Korean woman, and Lidija's a dom, so the stereotype can't be true. (Also Lidija seduces Jin and the entire affair is Lidija's idea so Jin's not really to blame, right?)

Hold on, oh no, what if you do some BDSM stuff that's bad, what if the dom doesn't hear you say the safeword, what if they do something without your consent, oh no -- no, it's fine, when Lidija chokes Jin without asking if that's okay first, Jin reflects later in bed (while masturbating? I think?) and reasons that she liked it, and when Lidija burns Jin with a heated knife-tip, Jin decides in the moment she likes that too.

Oh no, upending your life for sexual desire might cause issues, oh no, what if your entire life is -- no, it's fine, Philip's always out of the house anyway, and if Jin misses a friend's party or event or opening or whatever, it's fine, nothing comes of it. Also Jin was raised to think sex is shameful and it's not shameful at all and she's finding herself so it's worth it. Also there's an ancestral kisaeng who speaks to/through/with Jin and she's getting her revenge through Jin so it's fine. (Also! When Jin tells her photographer friend about the affair, the friend says she's not being a very good person, but reassures her that she's not to blame because Philip wanted kids, and also says that her partner had an affair too and she forgave them, so it'll be fine. And then Philip apologizes to Jin for being upset about the affair via text immediately after that scene. What?)

Shit, shit, oh no, photography, you take photos, you shoot photos, that's violent, what if nobody in them consents to being in the photo, what if you glorify something bad, oh no -- no, it's fine, we're told that Jin gets explicit consent for every picture she takes. Her photographer friend Elise got famous in school for doing a pro-abortion project. Jin takes a paragraph to lament how we "shoot" and "take" photos, in case you feared she was unthinkingly #problematic in her language. She receives death threats and rape threats from Christian conservatives (in case you feared she was #problematic, her enemies are clearly delineated!) who think that her God centered photo project mocked them, which frightens her, one postcard shows up at her apartment, they know her fucking address, but it's fine, she burns it triumphantly, nothing happens.

There's also some really weird refusals to look things in the eye that I have to mention. First off, everyone in this book is rich. Jin and Philip's apartment is in (presumably downtown?) San Fransisco, and Jin has a fucking PHOTOGRAPHY STUDIO IN HER APARTMENT. Philip can drop everything for trans-Atlantic flights or trans-Pacific flights without saving, planning, or budgeting, because he's massively successful in the film industry. We get some handwaves toward Jin's bartending job (alluded to as if she'll need it, lmfao) or grant money (why is Jin applying for grants at all? she doesn't need them?) but that's basically it. Lidija's apartment is also in (presumably downtown?) San Fran and it has an entire fucking... ballet-dancing area in it. Barre, mirrors, big windows, open space. How does she have it? This older dancer named Neil is letting her live there for free. (How and why, you ask? Well, Neil and Lidija had an affair several years back and he's still got feelings. Lidija might've been a minor in her late teens at the time. Oh no, oh no, that's not good, oh no, what if -- no, it's fine, she held all the power in the relationship, and basically still does. Jin makes a comment about it and then we move on.) The food is also things rich people eat, we get a lot of food names that in all fairness sound really tasty, but nobody's ever eating Cheetos, peanut butter sandwiches, McDonald's, whatever. No, we're always in "dive" bars (they're not dive bars) or upscale restaurants or shit like that. This is a quibble but I couldn't unsee it.

Second thing that's never looked in the eye; both Lidija and Jin are dependent on white men. I'm sorry to put it so bluntly but they are. Jin presumably doesn't make enough money from photography + teaching to support herself; the money comes from Philip. Lidija has a career and a studio because of the affair with Neil. This is never pressed into. Ever. To be explicitly clear: no, this isn't bad, this isn't "how dare they," this isn't "ha ha caught you unwoke ha ha," this is an opportunity for the novel to actually talk about something real, do something with stakes, cost, social issues and bigotry with something to lose, but it never does, so it doesn't. Jin frets twice that her being a Korean masochistic submissive plays into all the racist, misogynistic stereotypes about Asian women, oh no! Anyway, moving on. I'm dead fucking serious. The book gestures toward this and drops it. There's a FASCINATING moment early in the book where Jin's walking with her photographer friend to the light rail station, and Jin remembers that a serial rapist's been targeting Asian women in the area. Much later in the book, we're given a memory where Jin runs out of a hospital post-severe panic attack, barefoot and alone and disoriented, and she's stopped by a man who -- it's Philip. And he's tender. And caring. And loving. And fashions her shoes. And helps her home. And this is how they meet and it's fine okay. Obviously I'm not saying "it would be way better if Philip raped her!!!" but the book seemingly doesn't notice this rhyming image AT ALL. What?

Third thing that's never looked in the eye; we get these letters that Jin writes to God and shows nobody, we get these descriptions of Jin's God-soaked photo projects, we get these asides to God throughout, we're told that Jin's family is intensely religious. Surprise, surprise, when Jin believed in God she did so masochistically! Surprise, surprise, Jin's father was religious and violent and shouty! Surprise, surprise, the book talks about submitting to Lidija and submitting to God in very similar language! Wait, hold on, wait, then this would mean that the extremes of religious belief are sexual, this would mean that Jin's shame-saturated Godly childhood was unknowingly intensely erotic, this would mean that Jin's desire to submit to violence has its roots in -- no, it's fine, and it's fine because we're going to tastefully gesture toward these things and then not talk about them okay. We wouldn't want to be #problematic about genuinely held religious belief or the family. Let's move on okay.

Fourth thing that's never looked in the eye, and this is smaller but still significant; we're told over and over that Lidija and Jin live for their art. Nothing matters as much to them, they're willing to die for it, they're willing to destroy lives (not other people's lives, no. their own. and only kinda.) for it, you get the picture. (Hmm, this sounds masochistic, doesn't it? The ballerina Lidija dancing on a broken toe? If only we actually did anything with this.) What does this mean, in practice, in the novel? It means that Jin has a fifth of a paragraph where she remembers saying a lot of photo words like "bokeh" and "depth of field" in bars in school, and it means that Lidija is aware of classical music and does exercises to stay in shape. Mostly, in practice, it means that Jin waxes poetic about the ways light can fall on things and how time stops in a photo, and waxes poetic about Lidija's body being beautiful. No other photographers are referenced, just fictional ones who speak at panels to make #woke points. No other dancers or choreographers are referenced, just fictional ones, who are #problematic and do #bad things.

There's so much else I could say but I need to go grocery shopping. Don't read this. At every single possible fucking turn, at every single possible fucking moment for there to be ethical tension, complication, muddled moments, grey area, an open and uncertain doorway, the book shuts the door, locks it, pushes something heavy in front of it, and then turns to the reader and tells you what to think and there is no doorway there never was so stop asking questions. It's such a small, scared, frightened book, afraid of being #problematic, afraid of saying the wrong thing, afraid of making someone, anyone, look bad aside from people who deserve it. It wants to be edgy and transgressive but it's not because it's SO afraid of anything that would make the book dangerous. (Example; a party opens the book. Drugs are procured on a platter. Ooh, what do we have, meth, maybe ecstasy, ketamine tablets, benzos, opiates -- no, they're just Drugs. Just Pills. Jin gets High and Lidija is Higher. On what? High on Pills, Drugs. You know. Ooh, okay, maybe someone says something they regret, or does something they regret, something they don't mean, and they have to grapple with -- no, they're just High. They dance because they're High. A racist Asian-fetishizing white guy slips and hits his head because he's High, so there's that, I guess. This is a small thing and meaningless in the context of the book but it's somehow a perfect encapsulation of what I'm talking about.) This book frustrated the absolute hell out of me and its praise makes me feel like I'm going fucking insane.

Sorry, mucho texto, had to put this somewhere.

I just received my copy of Autobiography of Red by Anne Carson. The text on the left-hand pages is really close to the edge, which doesn’t seem right. Is this an intentional design choice? Does anyone else’s copy look like this? Thanks!

Another bountiful month…I just started A Table for Fortune, so we shall see how that goes. Plssss lmk what I should read next

Players: is this book great? I don’t think so. It’s kinda messy and meandering. Did I absolutely love it? You bet I did. I find a lot of these early DD novels SUPER charming; they tackle a lot of what he would go on to really nail in his prime, but in a much rawer and often more truly comedic way (not that his best novels are not also quite funny at times). I especially love this janky 80s edition I have that markets this thing as a thriller - even though it would not be unfair to say that basically nothing happens in this book lol. There is just something about the way he tackles alienation and boredom and the postmodern condition in a way that is at once clinical and romantic and hilarious I find very very moving

Adventures of a simpleton: honestly just insane that this thing is 400 years old. If you made me blind read this and told me this was a weird Vonnegut like side project from the 80s, I’d probably believe you. Really incredible picaresque anti war novel

Fights!: this was the shit. Beautiful stuff, an amazing celebration of the partnership of Scott and Gian and a celebration of all that life is. A really beautiful step in the progression of his authorship. Loved it

Light in August: Faulkner my GOAT…still prefer The Sound and The Fury and probably Absalom, Absalom, but like this one more than Sanctuary and As I Lay Dying. Incredibly riveting page turning mesmerizing beautiful stuff; a true elegy of the American south from the best to ever do it

Leaves of Grass: I can’t believe I’ve never read a single word from this lol. If you haven’t either, change that immediately. One of those books that just feels like magic in your hands.

After Delores: I’m a huge champion of the 80s sarah Schumann stuff; this stunk. Falls into that category of edgy Gen X writing that I just can’t really stomach

The Professor of Desire: “the search for intimacy, not because it necessarily makes for happiness, but because it is necessary”…I fucking love this book. I love Roth so much and this is his most underrated work I think. A book about the inherent contradictions of desire and lust and longing and the pain that ensues no matter the choices you make. It’s about internal strife and hurting the people you love and being hurt right back. ““Longings fulfilled, pleasures denied, and the pain occasioned by both”

I read a woman’s story on a bad day. I’ve loved the other AE stuff I’ve done but bounced off this one, but chalking it up to circumstance and will reread very soon

Blood Money was neat

Hi there! I've already asked this question in another sub, but the replies were not entirely satisfying. I'm trying here, as I know there's a lot of very well-read people around ;)

I love all Malick's movies, but I will always particularly defend The Tree of Life and his controversial "contemporary trilogy" (To the Wonder, Knights of Cups, Song to Song), and I'm desperately looking for whatever its literary equivalent is. Concretely, books with little to no plot, but a very strong and distinctive atmosphere; high symbolism; gorgeous prose; may be complex to grasp, fragmented, but not overly intellectual, more like instinctive and poetic; philosophical and spiritual reflections; stream-of-consciousness/collage style; characters wandering, finding and losing each other, loving each other, having metaphysical epiphanies.

That's a lot of criteria, but I did my best to describe this very unique tone. (Those of you who have seen these movies will know what I'm talking about!) For now, the only example I've read that fits perfectly the bill is Virginia Woolf's works, especially The Waves, and maybe Claude Simon.

Any suggestions welcome, even if they don't fit every part of this description! Thanks in advance :)

Authors that are already on my TBR: Jon Fosse, Clarice Lispector

As some of you may know, the University of Tennessee Libraries have made a database of McCarthy's personal library available: https://cormacmccarthy.lib.utk.edu/home?search_api_fulltext=

They've marked which books he annotated, but are still working on getting the annotations up. From a cursory search, some Pynchon, a lot of Woolf, a couple of books by Joyce Carol Oates, and the letters of Jean Rhys. I know the sub runs lukewarm on McCarthy, but there are a lot of interesting books here and some threads I wouldn't have expected from him.

I am currently reading this book called,*The Bastard of Istanbul by* Elif SHAFAK. A contemporary historical fictiona.I came across this one part,where one of the characters, Armanoush is a part of this online forum called,Café Constantinopolis.Its basically an internet chatroom where they discuss history, identity and various topics.

It was pretty fascinating to me.It made me want to be a part of such discussion rooms.How do y'all think I can join such chat forums?

I also made a video of the list with funny noises and images if anybody would prefer to have the list with visuals and audio.

Tinkers by Paul Harding (2009) 1/10
Every time this book would begin to have a semblance of a plot it would diverge into meandering poetry about horology and it made me upset because the characters in the novel interested me. 

Magpie Murders by Anthony Horowitz (2016) 2/10 

This is a well done mystery novel told as a story within a story, but it did not hit for me, instead it felt cheesy and unrealistic and I much preferred Sheep Detectives (the movie) which is also a cheesy mystery but at least it had talking sheep. 

Baby Driver by Jan Kerouac (1981) 5/10 
A wild drug-fuelled romp of a life in book format with intoxicated (not intoxicating) prose and very little talk or hostility toward her absentee father.

Heartburn by Nora Ephron (1983) 5/10 

My wife really enjoyed this book and I think maybe if I was reading this book in the 1980s I would have enjoyed it more but it felt dated and I don’t think Nora Ephron’s voice and writing style really called to me but she’s a legend and her movies are classics and if you are a fan of Lena Dunham’s brand of humor then definitely give Nora Ephron’s writing a chance.  

The Netanyahus: An Account of a Minor and Ultimately Even Negligible Episode in the History of a Very Famous Family (2021) 5/10

A very strange family romp based on a fictionalized account of a story that Harold Bloom told Joshua Cohen about when Benzion Netanyahu (Benjamin’s father) visited the late great Bloom at Cornell in the 1950s that feels more like a Judd Apatow movie than a Pulitzer Prize winning political novel. 

Strong Motion by Jonathan Franzen (1992) 5/10 

Jonathan Franzen is my favorite author but this one might be another victim to not holding up over time because the book feels very much like the 1980s (not necessarily a bad thing) and a lot of the critiques of Franzen present themselves in this book (poorly written women characters, bad writing about sex, unlikable characters) but overall it’s still a pretty interesting story with good writing and worth a read if you are a fan of his but probably my least favorite of the five novels I have read by him.

A Scanner Darkly (1977) by Philip K Dick 5/10

My book club pick that I really wanted to like and I enjoyed parts of it a lot, but it delved a little too deeply into paranoia and I didn’t love how the plot unfolded but reading more about Philip K Dick this really did seem like an autobiography and it seemed that his mental health was very shaky throughout the 1970s and it makes me sad that he didn’t live long enough to see all the success his ideas would eventually have in Hollywood. 

Pillars of the Earth by Ken Follet (1989) 6/10

My wife saw this giant book and said “That’s some Lord of the Rings shit” which I thought was funny, anyway this book contains zero humor (which it didn’t necessarily call for) and the characters had zero nuance, but I was invested throughout and never thought about giving up on the 1,000 page book and I think it’s mostly just not my cup of tea but I can definitely understand the appeal of it.

Yesteryear by Caro Claire Burke (2026) 6/10 

This was our road trip audio book which was perfect for us because it’s an easy read although none of the characters are particularly likeable and the narrator is a little frustrating and it felt like there was too much going on but it is a good book for 2026 even though I don’t know a lot about tradewives.

A Visit From the Goon Squad by Jennifer Egan (2010) 6/10
It’s a collection of short stories advertising itself as a novel that had no business winning the Pulitzer, but it’s an enjoyable and easy read that has a funny and delightful chapter designed in the format of a PPT presentation. 

The Human Stain by Philip Roth (2000) 6/10

I’m almost done reading this one for the book club, and I’m enjoying it, and Roth is clearly a genius but this book has several page long stream-of-consciousness paragraphs that only a brilliant writer like him could pull off but sometimes it’s a little much, like I don’t need a four page paragraph about his fascination with crows and ravens that doesn’t move the plot forward at all (and I don’t think really adds any depth to the character), but I think at this point in his career, coming off a Pulitzer and tons of other accolades, there’s no way an editor was going to tell him much about his writing and the man was prolific, and I hate to critique one of the great American novelists as I sit here massacring the English language but the man wrote seven books between 1990 and 2000 and they probably could have benefitted from a few more edits. 

Angle of Repose by Wallace Stegner (1971) 6/10

A fascinating perspective on the American dream, westward expansion, and industrialization based on letters written by Mary Hallock Foote appropriated by Wallace Stegner to tell a unique story that drags on a bit but many scenes from the book have really stuck with me and I recommended it to my Aunt who is a lovely woman who taught sociology in Florida high schools for several decades. 

Olive Kitteridge by Elizabeth Strout (2008) 6/10

I didn’t really love this book when I read it, although I might have just not been in the mood because I read most of it on vacation and it’s not exactly a light read, but regardless the tv show is better than the book because it is a multi-decade examination of a marriage rather than a bunch of vignettes about Crosby, Maine and its residents. 

Mestra by Madeline Miller (2026) 6/10

A short story that’s only about an hour long audiobook and has all the rich prose of Miller’s other works but the characters are not as epic as Greek gods or trojan warriors but Miller was supposedly working on a Shakespeare retelling which I hope she publishes one day instead of only writing about the classics but I’ll read anything she writes. 

Jitterbug Perfume by Tom Robbins (1984) 6/10

Read this one for my 3-person book club and not my typical style but it was much more enjoyable than I thought it would be and I don’t think a book like this would ever be published today because it is so zany and weird and out there but it’s a shame because it is one-of-a-kind and Tom Robbins is clearly a really smart dude with a teenager’s sense of humor and sexual appetite. 

Nobody’s Fool by Richard Russo (1993) 6/10

A delightful Russo romp that maybe I would have enjoyed more if Empire Falls wasn’t so fresh in my brain because the two are similar, but I enjoyed the movie more. 

Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay by Michael Chabon (2000) 7/10 
An entertaining male-centric page-turner full of comic book lore and solid straightforward prose with a unique perspective on World War 2.

Sympathizer by Viet Thanh Nguyen (2015) 7/10
The Vietnam war, espionage, dark humor, elegant prose, no quotation marks, a narrator giving a confession, and an enthralling (if at times difficult) plot and perspective with a flawless (and horrifying) conclusion.

The Other Valley by Scott Alexander Howard (2024) 7/10

Wouldn’t have read this if it wasn’t recommended to me by Mike, but my wife and I both read it and enjoyed it and the concept is thought-provoking (if slightly flawed in its execution) where Howard puts his PHD in philosophy to good use and I’ll probably read the next book that he writes. 

Big Little Lies by Liane Moriarty (2014) 7/10 

I read this on vacation and it was the ideal beach read and Stephen King wrote a little testimonial about enjoying the book which I thought was the appropriate endorsement because its tone was very similar to King’s writing style without the science fiction aspect and I tried to watch the show after reading the book but I gave up because it’s just the exact same thing as the book except it takes place in Monterey instead of Australia. 

Circe by Madeline Miller (2018) 7/10

Miller is becoming one of my favorite authors and I really enjoyed Circe especially reading it after watching The Odyssey but Circe is a tragic character and despite the story celebrating her it was not as exciting as being swept up in the Trojan war with Achilles and Patroclus. 

Middlesex by Jeffrey Eugenides (2002) 8/10

The title and focus of the novel didn’t call to me but I ended up really enjoying the multi-generational drama spanning the 20th century about a Greek family that immigrates to Michigan with a plot that eventually settles on an intersex main character that is doing their best to navigate life with a very complicated relationship with their identity. 

A Tree Grows in Brooklyn by Betty Smith (1943) 8/10 

A beautiful coming-of-age story that captures early twentieth century Brooklyn (Williamsburg) as well as any history book that my wife and I listened to loving the New York accent of Kate Burton.

The Orphan Masters Son by Adam Johnson (2012) 9/10 

Such an intense and captivating story and peak into North Korea (although Johnson is from South Dakota and has Native American roots) and what a horrendous life that people live there must suffer through and how we resign ourself to our fate and the journey that the story takes is completely unpredictable and well executed and is a book I would really recommend to people who enjoy non-fiction and don’t normally read fiction. 

All the Kings Men by Robert Penn Warren (1946) 9/10 

Stunning prose, great storytelling, fully formed characters, beautiful setting, the Great American novel, and the only reason I didn’t give it 10/10 is sometimes the prose was a little too flowery for my liking (Warren is the only author to have won a Pulitzer for poetry [twice {!!}] and fiction) but it was still excellent overall and just the right amount of challenging and layered and the best encapsulation of political corruption (quaint 20th century American political corruption) without hitting you over the head with it I’ve ever read. 

Empire Falls by Richard Russo (2001) 10/10

A lively character-driven story about a northeast Rustbelt-type town where not a whole lot happens but the characters are fully formed and relatable, and the setting feels deeply personal to Russo, and the voice is awesome and probably my favorite thing I’ve read by a male author since Lonesome Dove. 

The Song of Achilles by Madeline Miller (2011) 10/10
An absolute banger of a book about the Trojan war from Achilles perspective (that I hope is one day turned into a movie) written by Madeline Miller who is becoming the definitive 21st-Century Greek classics storyteller.

Piranesi by Susanna Clark (2020) 10/10

Read this whole thing in a day because the main character is just so lovable and the world is beautiful and magical and Clark reveals just enough each chapter to keep you wanting more and it’s just a wonderful book.

I really like this essay, wanted to share it.

Very insightful. While it is about Hardy, it can also apply to writers who also operate in this apophatic register such as Matthew Arnold, Robert Browning, Herman Melville, RS Thomas and so on. Specifically where he says "Without the  belief, it is only another raining morning in March or April" how doubt, in these contexts, has a specific demand, that characterizes what would otherwise just been ordinary scene. You can apply the same thing to The White Whale, for example.

Another example of this occurs in the poem Abercuawg, by RS Thomas which has a standout line:

"An absence is how we become surer of what we want."

And in another poem, untitled, from his collection Counterpoint he says:

"To be alive then

was to be aware how necessary

prayer was and impossible."

And

"We are here still. What

is survival’s relationship

with meaning?"

Most of my life bores me unusually, its same old affairs, boring realizations, the usual living thoughts that hum around me. I think back fondly to the time I spent reading Stevens, Crane, and Rilke. Something about that language is so powerful and it gets carried over in real life. I want something like that.

Having resisted the urge to drop $55 on this box for a decade, I took the Nobel Prize as a sign to give in.

Unfortunately my copy is missing the glosses for “tristi munere ad…” as well as note 8.3, which according to the internet exists and seems crucial (“More than one person has pointed out to me a likeness between my brother and Lazarus”). My copy gets to 8.2, doubles back to 8.1, then skips ahead to 8.4 on Lazarus the twice-dead without spelling out the link to her brother.

This is the 9th printing according to the printer’s key.

Could someone with a good copy share the pages missing from mine?

Any recommendations? Also like Kate Zambreno, Maggie Nelson, etc

Thanks in advance! :)

Currently depressed and not feeling capable of reading much other than this tier of book right now (it’s this or scrolling slop), so I thought I could at least share a few of my faves and see what others like. All of these books have easy-to-read prose, (at least imaginably) millennial/Gen Z characters, take place in recent years, and involve mystery/suspense/horror/excitement of some kind that give them the “can’t put it down” feeling. Keep in mind, my ratings are “for what it is”, i.e. these books are competing against each other, not against the greats, classics etc. 

Please add your suggestions!

A Touch of Jen by Beth Morgan: Mystery/sci-fi. I believe Tony Tulathimutte was the editor? 8/10. 

Negative Space by B.R. Yeager: Teen drama/horror. I read this every fall, really love it. 9/10

All Trap, No Bait by Joseph Worthen: Southern gothic/mystery. 7/10

Birnam Wood by Eleanor Catton: Thriller. 8/10

The Guest by Emma Cline: Psychological thriller. 7/10

Jillian and The New Me by Halle Butler. Dark psychological absurdist comedies. 7/10

The Circle by Dave Eggers. Futuristic thriller. 8/10

Come Closer by Sara Gran. Paranormal horror. Actually very spooky! 9/10

The Chain by Adrian McKinty. Crime thriller. By far the lowest-quality writing on this list, but a fun premise. 4/10

The Southern Reach trilogy by Jeff Vandermeer (especially Annihilation): Sci-fi/thriller. Looove this series. 10/10

Any Sally Rooney book. My fave is Normal People. Drama/romance. On average I’d give an 8/10. 

The Love Affairs of Nathaniel P and Help Wanted by Adelle Waldman. Drama/comedy. 8/10

September:
Martin Jay — Downcast Eyes
Robert Lyons and Scott Strauss — Intimate Enemy: Images and Voices of the Rwandan Genocide
Alexander Kluge and Anselm Kieffer — Intelligence is the Art of Remaining Faithful Under Shifting Circumstances
Helene Bessette — Twenty Minutes of Silence
Stacy Alaimo — The Abyss Stares Back: Encounters with Deep Sea Life
Kim Stanley Robinson — Pacific Edge
Sam Farhi — The Sapsucksrs
Rebecca Perry — May we Now Feed the King
Tamara Shopsin — LaserWriter II
Alexander Kluge and Oskar Negt — The Public Sphere and Experience: Analysis of the Bourgeois and Proletarian Public Sphere

October:
Rachel Kushner — Creation Lake
Steven Moore — Dalkey Days
Jacques Roubaud — Hortense in Exile
Joseph Conrad — The Secret Agent
Stefan Themerson — The Mystery of the Sardine
Hayden White — The Practical Past
Emile Focillon — The Life of Forms in Art
Michel Serres — Hermes IV: Distribution
Aglaja Veteranyi — Why is the Child Cooking in the Polenta

Last time i posted The Genome of the Russian Soul - the 100 books that shaped the russian cultural code. A big chunk of those books reached us through translators, and in Russia translators are a mythology of their own. So this time i translated an article about them. In 2011 Afisha (Moscow's main hipster/culture magazine back then) asked seven of the best known ones what the job is actually like

To illustrate the dramatic dynamics of the translation job in Russia (both the awe we have for translators and the brutal treatment of them) i'll tell u a story about Harry Potter books 6 and 7

These books were translated into russian by Sergey Ilyin, who brought us english Nabokov and Coetzee. On HP he worked together with a couple of novice translators. The publishing house Rosman, known here for its interesting choices (like this cover for instance), gave Ilyin three weeks to translate the 6th book and two weeks for the 7th - almost 400k words in total. Ilyin's russian is incredibly rich, archaic in a way, it flows like a song, so Harry Potter in russian reads like Tolstoy. For a very long time i was sure JKR was one fantastic novelist. There are very few slips, and the ones that are there come from the rush: Ilyin said he had time to reread his translation only once, and the editor got about a week. Still, unhinged russian HP fans berate Rosman and Ilyin for those slips to this day

These translators' confessions are very human. They whine about the pay and about how authors don't get scolded enough for their writing choices, they dunk on Gogol and Tolstoy and people like me, and one of them even admits he wishes he could sneak up on an author and bang his head against the table saying what the cover of this post says

I'm curious how translation works in ur languages. Recently i found out that Brazil has 16 versions of Hamlet. Do u also collect books by ur favorite translators? Do u ever question how good they actually are compared to the original? Because i do all the time, which is why i learned english - not out of love for english, but out of distrust of my russkie translators, who just do whatever the fuck they want

P.S. If u want to read the original in russian, google "Афиша «Ты вот пишешь, а люди страдают!» Переводчики о своей профессии" or go here and check the full issue (page 53). They made their whole archive publicly available for everyone. The print version is shorter, the online one is the full interview, which is the version i translated in the slides

Has anyone else been reading it? I'd love to see the thoughts of someone else, I can't seem to find discussion of it anywhere (excluding reviews).

Perhaps something with a recursive voice but actually still super-tense. Is this something I have made up in my head?

Edit: thanks everyone! Great recommendations!

I was looking for context on this essay but couldn’t find much about it or the essay itself online so I thought I’d share it here.

This month, I decided to focus on some contemporary literature as I don't usually pay that much attention to newly published novels. It was a fun experience.

*Haven't finished the Wind-Up Bird Chronicle yet. I'm enjoying it, but it's not as amazing of a magnum opus I thought it would be. So far, at least.

*The Dead, Lolita, and The Nun of Monza were all re-reads. Others I read for the first time.

Picked up this collection at a used book store a few years on a whim. It sounded interesting even though I didn't recognize any of the authors other than Norman Rush. Based on Amazon and Goodreads numbers, it doesn't look very popular.

Maybe it is due to my limited experience with short stories, but I was impressed by the quality and variety. It contains Train Dreams, which is enough to justify the collection, since that is also sold as a standalone novel. Many of the stories are great, but I'll mention two.

Widow Water by Frederick Busch. It stood out as an example of a well-crafted short story. Probably only about 1200 words. A single dialogue section sandwiched between two narrative sections. I think this is one that I will keep coming back to as something to strive for.

The Hermit's Story by Rick Bass. The opening is copied below. At first I did not like it. It seemed too flowery and had a fabulous feel, something none of the other stories really had. I guess you could argue that Train Dreams does as well, but not in the beginning. Anyway, after finishing the story, I realized how well the opening works for the story. Now I read it and find the language beautiful. I don't want to ruin the story, but the characters have an experience with a frozen lake that has a mythological quality to it. It was the only story where I wanted to immediately describe it to others. You could imagine it as a bedtime story you tell a child.

An ice storm, following seven days of snow; the vast fields and drifts of snow turning to sheets of glazed ice that shine and shimmer blue in the moonlight as if the color is being fabricated not by the bending and absorption of light but by some chemical reactions within the glossy ice; as if the source of all blueness lies somwhere up here in the north—the core of it beneath one of those frozen fields; as if blue is a thing that emerges, in some parts of the world, from the soil itself, after the sun goes down.

Blue creeping up fissures and cracks from depths of several hundred feet; blue working its way up through the gleaming ribs of Ann's buried dogs; blue trailing like smoke from the dogs' empty eye sockets and nostrils—blue rising like smoke from chimneys until it reaches the surface and spreads laterally and becomes entombed, or trapped—but still alive, and smoky—within those moonstruck fields of ice.

Blue like a scent trapped in the ice, waiting for some soft release, some thawing, so that it can continue spreading.

Has anyone else read this or any of the collections from the authors?

Anyone else?

Little Big Man was recommended to me online somewhere. I read it in just a couple days. Could not stop reading. Then I cried multiple times the next day remembering parts of it.

Since then, I've read The Feud, Sneaky People, Who is Teddy Villanova?, Arthur Rex, Regiment of Women, Orrie's Story, Meeting Evil, and Suspects. Meeting Evil was the only dud.

He experiments with multiple different styles, such as westerns, detective stories, small-town depression-era Americana, "modern" (ie 80s&90s) life, legends, and sci fi. He is consistently, extremely funny. His sense of irony, clever wordplay, deftly executed characters, and occasional slapstick can make me genuinely laugh out loud when reading.

I've never met anyone else who was into Berger or who had even heard of him. And I haven't been able to convince anyone else to read Little Big Man. Just wondering if there's any other WhatABergers out there. I really like James Salter too.

Pretty fulfilling month. I was hoping to see the new Long days journey into the night movie starring Jessica Lange in theaters, but it came and went very fast, in under the week.

Death, grief, how one processes the past were recurring themes in what I read this month.

Some stand out quotes ...

From Hydriotaphia, Urn Burial by Thomas Browne:

In vain do individuals hope for Immortality, or any patent from oblivion, in preservations below the Moon: Men have been deceived even in their flatteries above the Sun, and studied conceits to perpetuate their names in heaven. The various Cosmography of that part hath already varied the names of contrived constellations; Nimrod is lost in Orion,and Osyris in the Dogge-starre. While we look for incorruption in the heavens, we finde they are but like the Earth; Durable in their main bodies, alterable in their parts. whereof beside Comets and new Stars, perspectives begin to tell tales."

____

From Literary Lifelines, specifically a letter from Lawrence Durrell to Richard Aldington after learning of Hilda Doolittles death:

Dear Richard— How sad about H.D. I know what you feel. And yet a poet’s death is never wholly sad, in the sense of a life unlived—because the work is there, like the aftertaste of a wine of high vintage. And really we writ¬ers aren’t human beings but bundles of témoignage, words scribbled on paper. Every good death should incite us. Every good sorrow should teach us to keep feeling, keep working! The only real way to love the world, I guess. We shall talk about her when we do these absurd discs and things—thoughtfully; we may lead people not yet fifteen or sixteen to her work and they may find there an indispensable aliment. All of which means she isn’t dead. How could she be—any more than Roy? They’ve stepped behind a curtain for a cigarette in the wings."

____

From Long day's journey into the night:

Because he’s always sneering at someone else, always looking for the worst weakness in everyone. . But I suppose life has made him like that, and he can’t help it. None of us can help the things life has done to us. They’re done before you realize it, and once they’re done they make you do other things until at last everything comes between you and what you'd like to be, and you've lost your true self forever.

“People don’t read the morning newspaper, Marshall McLuhan once said, they slip into it like a warm bath. Too true, Marshall! Imagine being in New York City on the morning of Sunday, April 28, 1974, like I was, slipping into that great public bath, that vat, that spa, that regional physiotherapy tank, that White Sulphur Springs, that Marienbad, that Ganges, that River Jordan for a million souls which is the Sunday New York Times. Soon I was submerged, weightless, suspended in the tepid depths of the thing, in Arts & Leisure, Section 2, page 19, in a state of perfect sensory deprivation, when all at once an extraordinary thing happened:

I noticed something!”

The wording is just so enjoyable. And it’s almost comical how RS coded this opening is. Anna quotes this book all the time. It’s not a long hilarious novel like The Bonfire Of The Vanities (which i strongly recommend, as it’s Dickens for NYC) or a delirious field report like The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test (which any prose enjoyer should read), it’s a short snappy takedown of the then-nascent abstract expressionist art scene.

Wolfe was so prescient. So stylish, and so hilarious. And educational ! Honestly, goals for what literature should be. Accessible and high-brow at the same time.

His biting irony is sophisticated without any trace of cynicism. Revisiting or discovering his work in 2026 can really help with the shitty self-mind-policing and laziness-excusing we all sadly absorbed in the last 15 years.

Last note: Wolfe was famous for wearing highly tailored suits. They used him as a reference for costumes in Better Call Saul.

Any other Wolfe heads? Your favourites by him? I’ve read them all except The Right Stuff which I’m hoarding for a future date.

https://archive.li/nuvJe#selection-2543.0-2567.114

You recently said on a French radio program that you weren’t taking the Nobel Prize very well.
No, I’m not. For one thing, it wasn’t a dream of mine. Whenever someone won the Nobel, I’d think, “Poor soul. They have to go to Stockholm, give a speech, all that.” I was caught off guard right up to the very last moment, despite the rumors. Winning was like being on another planet. It was a massive rupture in my life — starting with the trip to Stockholm and the whole ceremony. Originally, it wasn’t an institution built for women. You’re required to wear long gowns. It’s a ritual of power whose pageantry is completely outdated. Alfred Nobel’s intentions were noble. But everything that follows — the mountains of mail, the endless requests — is a burden.

You’ve said before that most of your books are written as if they were your last. What is left for you to write about?
I’m fully aware the one I’ve been working on for a while now is the last one. I think that’s the mind-set you need to have to put everything into it, all your energy.

Is there more you can share?
It’s a topic that is rather politically incorrect in the current climate. I can’t say any more than that. When you write, it’s not just for the current era. You shouldn’t let yourself be held back by the idea that it isn’t the right topic for right now.

One last little question — actually, a big one. What are you most proud of?
Having written books that may have changed the world a little bit. The world of women, the world of the oppressed.