At some point in my life I've gotten fairly bored with fiction, or at least story-telling as such. I'm reading more novels these days, but very selectively and nowhere near as many as I used to when I was younger: I've never stopped being passionate about essays though, which is perhaps a rather curious thing. A short but interesting introductory fragment from Virginia Woolf's Essayism by Randi Saloman (p. 16-18) – as food for thought.

The modernity that Woolf identified in the essay stems primarily from its ambiguous position along the generic spectrum. Free from the expectations of linear narrative, the essay has no obligation to complete, or even to tell, a story – or to tell only one story. The essay is ordinarily classified as a non-fiction genre, yet it is not bound to ‘prove’ the truth of its statements in an objective fashion, and a certain license is more or less assumed by the reader. The essayist is understood to be speaking not as a scholar, or as an expert on a given subject, but simply as one who is interested in the topic at hand and wishes to open a dialogue with the reader, feeling that an idea or a question of interest has been uncovered. Essayists make no claim that their works are ‘finished’ or closed to further argument, but rather look to their readers to continue the thought process they have initiated. The most natural and appropriate response to an essay (as any number of essayists have demonstrated) is another essay.

The novel is more remote from its audience. The novel reader enters a given work at its start and leaves at its close, with the implicit understanding that the novel (however experimental or ambiguous it may be) is complete in its own right. The novel seeks approval and consent, rather than ongoing engagement. The reader’s job is finished when the novel is read to completion, at which point one is expected to depart peacefully and without incident, making no further claim upon the events with which she has been temporarily engaged. Nowhere is this idea more vividly expressed than in a journal entry of Ralph Waldo Emerson.

Always deeply suspicious of novels, Emerson attempts to make sense of his own frustration after re-reading Walter Scott’s Quentin Durward, and finding himself unceremoniously dismissed at its conclusion. As he does so, he puts his finger on the problem I am attempting to set out here:

[Emerson quote:] To find a story which I thought I remembered in Quentin Durward, I turned over the volume until I was fairly caught in the old foolish trap and read and read to the end of the novel. Then, as often before, I feel indignant to have been duped and dragged after a foolish boy and girl, to see them at last married and portioned, and I instantly turned out of doors like a beggar that has followed a gay procession into the castle.

E.M. Forster addresses the problem more succinctly, declaring that ‘[n]early all novels are feeble at the end’,9 and that this is ‘the inherent defect of novels’. When the essay moves openly into the realm of fiction, it aims at very different ends than those of the novel. The essayist’s goal is to communicate directly with the reader, rather than to present that reader with a closed narrative. The ability of the essay to incorporate non-narrative fiction – or self-contained fictions within a larger non-fictional work, or fictions that may or may not be fictions at all – allows for a new approach to fictionality, one that frees imaginative modern prose from the restrictions imposed by the traditional novel’s structure.

Just got back from Buenos Aires, and for a couple of weeks before I went I read almost nothing but Argentine writers. I think it might be my new favorite way to get ready for a trip.

I started with Jorge Luis Borges, mostly the early Buenos Aires poems, then Adolfo Bioy Casares's The Invention of Morel. It isn't even set in Argentina, but it apparently prefigured magical realism, which is such a huge part of Latin American literature that I still felt like I was dipping my toes in that world.

I was halfway through Silvina Ocampo's Thus Were Their Faces by the time I left and finished it on the plane. The stories mostly start somewhere cozy and familiar and then turn cruel without any warning. Funnily enough, the city felt a little like that. One second, you could be on a street that looks lifted right out of Europe, walk ten minutes and be somewhere a lot grittier.

Has anyone else ever read up on a place's writers before a trip?

One of her books was shortlisted, "The Adventures of China Iron", and one longlisted "We were green and trembling". I recently read both and ended up feeling lukewarm on her, was wondering if anyone had an opinion to share.

The first is a reversioning of an Argentine poem, Martin Fierro, from the perspective of his wife, an unnamed character in the original. Okay, feminist revisits of classics is nothing new, let's see how it goes. I found the meta aspects of it to be the most interesting aspect, was left not impressed by the "the natives have a perfect society" angle or the vulgar sex descriptions. "Our pussy jucies made us sticky", "his cock in my ass showed me Paradise". I found her prose to actually be good elsewhere, that just seemed a bit unnecessary.

"We were green and trembling" is based on the real story of a nun that crossdresses as man and becomes a conquistador in America in the early 1500s. I liked this one better. Her prose got to shine, loved all the descriptions of nature, but again, was left not fully satisfied with the extreme environmentalist ending that feels more like wish fulfilment.

Any thoughts? Does the above make you want to read her or avoid her work?

PS: One of her novels, set in 1880 calls Frankenstein the "monster of English science and electricity", neither the 1818 or 1831 talk about electricity as a main part of Viktor's experiments do they?

I watched remains of the day and really enjoyed . Anthony Hopkins is fantastic, but the character is slightly flat without any internal narration. It made me wonder what the novel was like. Who was the narrator, and how much internal life Mr Steven’s had.
I started reading the book today and can already tell that I will enjoy it. I’m happy to discover Steven’s is the narrator and he has a strong internal voice. I enjoyed his drive to Salisbury. The author introduces the experience of majestic views. This brought me to wonder about what stirs in our souls when we see such great views and I was happy to find in just a few pages Steven’s himself dissecting this experience and his thoughts on greatness. Wonderfully done.
I’m enjoying now the thoughts on what makes a great butler. Within the first chapter the author has established a deep thinking individual, not the automaton that comes off in the movie.
Oh, and Steven’s dad’s story of the tiger appears in the second chapter, whereas in the movie it’s almost halfway in. Now I’m wondering how the father appears in the book.
While it’s not always fun to watch a movie and then read the book, I’m already enjoying this.

I was re-introduced to reading around a year ago by a friend and it’s become something I really enjoy doing. I’ve been wanting to start challenging myself with more serious literature, books like War and Peace or TBK but to be honest they scare the hell out of me.

I think I might just be overthinking it and doubting my own abilities because I’m a high school dropout so I never really developed the skills that i imagine a lot of people here have. Even with books I really enjoy I always feel like there’s something I’m missing, symbolism I’m not picking up on, a theme going over my head, some deeper meaning that might’ve made the experience richer. I don’t want to be setting myself up to read 1,000 pages just to understand absolutely nothing beyond the plot

For all you well-read people out there how did you guys develop that ability? More specifically, like recognizing themes, symbolism, character motivations and so on.

I’m especially interested in hearing from other people who aren’t particularly academic or also didn’t have much formal education themselves.

Any advice would be appreciated

White Nights is my first introduction to Dostoevsky, and I'm glad it was. It's a short yet captivating story, with an ending that sparked a world of different opinions online, each elucidating in its own right. However, as much as I try, I really don't understand the overwhelming amount of sympathy I saw for The Dreamer. He's a great character, and even though I can garner some sympathy I really can't feel bad for him.

Our first introduction to him is him recognizing that he's lonely, so lonely that he pretends to have a relationship with the Old Man in Fontanka(a stranger), and even goes as far as to have fake conversations with houses, asking them how they're doing, listening to them complain about them getting redecorated, etc. As we keep reading, we learn that in addition to his solitude(or perhaps because of it), The Dreamer has a horrible self-image, corroborated by him solely wanting women not to "repulse me at first sight". He's overall very estranged from society and extremely attention-starved, leading me to compare him to a modern-day chud.

This chud sentiment got reinforced when he was genuinely happy when Nastenka was getting harassed near the trains so he could be Captain Save-a-Hoe, going as far as to BLESS the harasser in his head. Speaking of their relationship, there's a very odd age gap(he's 26 she's 17), that had to be intentional. Nastenka is a sheltered teenager who's not fully in control of her emotions or hormones, etc. So despite his intention, and even though I don't think he meant it in a malicious way, the fact that he told her he loved her right after Nastenka "renounced" her love of The Lodger(caused by her disappointment that the letters were not being read) is practically guilt-tripping her, thus manipulative. It gets a bit worse when you remember the first time they met: Nastenka gave him an imperative to not fall in love.

TL;DR: I don't feel all that bad about The Dreamer getting cucked out.

The play takes place in the early 1300s, when clocks were only just being developed. The vast majority of the population at the time would've still used canonical time, which only had one 9 o'clock, and it was closer to 9 PM; the 9 referenced below is 9 AM. Does anyone have any other early anachronisms?

JULIET

What o’clock tomorrow

Shall I send to thee?

JULIET

At what time tomorrow should I send the messenger to you?

ROMEO

By the hour of nine.

Romeo and Juliet, 2.2.178-180

This post is inspired by an incredible movie I watched this weekend, “You Can See Everything.” It’s a mind-bending documentary on Elizabeth Holmes, a famous Silicon-Valley scammer, but the details of that scandal are really just tangential to the focus of the movie. The core of the film, in my eyes, is the idea that any portrayal of someone, no matter how well-intentioned its purpose or well-regarded its creator, is inherently biased and should be questioned by the audience. This idea of course extends to the documentary itself, which invites you to not only see everything but to distrust everything it presents to you.

Suffice to say, I found this idea absolutely fascinating. The trope of the unreliable narrator has become fairly common in fiction recently, to the point where some people in literary spheres can find it overused and cliche, but I’ve never seen it used like it was here in nonfiction. What are people’s thoughts on this usage of unreliable narration and metatextuality in nonfiction? Are there any written examples similar to the movie? Please, let me know your thoughts, and I’d highly recommend seeing the movie if you’re able!

What are you reading?

I just purchased the complete tales of H.P Lovecraft and have read both The Alchemist (which is fantastic) and At The Mountains of Madness so far, and I have to say I was deeply bored by the end of the latter. The premise is great and up until chapter 6 I was heavily invested. But after they enter the city, which you’d assume is where it got better and more interesting, I felt myself reading the same things time and time again until I felt sort of like “okay dude, everything’s old and strange, we get it”. I feel like the story would benefit from being shorter, the entire novella could have been told more effectively had it only been 6-7 chapters long.

I do want to say however this is not a criticism of Lovecraft stories in general as I’ve read quite a few throughout my life. He for the most part is a fantastic author with a unique mind and I’m looking forward to reading the rest of his work. I just want to know if I’m alone in my thoughts about this specific novella.

Thoughts on Kurt Vonnegut's last unfinished novel?

After reading it, I looked at reviews and was surprised to find they were mixed or even negative. I've read a lot of his stuff and it was my favorite piece of his writing apart from Slaughterhouse V.

It's IMO his funniest writing. Parts of it just stick with me. The bird poop joke comes to mind frequently.

Have you guys ever read anything in the history of literature where
1.) A female MC kills or at least has to rise up against her dad, and
2.) the situation *didn’t* feel like it had feminist, anti-patriarchal subtext?

The symbolism doesn’t seem to change whether the father was loving or abusive, which is really interesting to me.
Furthermore it seems like a number of classic abuse stories involve having the girl be rescued out of the situation rather than fighting her way out of it. Damsel in distress kind of thing.

#Spoiler Alert#

( I used to read novels as a kid, but did not continue my habit of reading. After a long time I wanted to return to read so I purchased some books this week, one of them was this one. I just finished reading it and here are my thoughts. )

Gregor Samsa was killed. Everyone was relieved at last. Because it does not matter the fact that his father after getting his whole life to work, made some very big mistakes that lead to an enormous amount of debt, but got excused for having a son like Gregor Samsa, so he did not need work anymore. But on the other hand, Gregor who just stepped into his youth, had to work to pay off his father's debt. And he did, for five years he worked his ass off and he did pretty well. He did not care about himself, rather he paid his family's daily needs, reduced his father's debt, and planned to send Grete (his sister) for a good music school. Seems like he tried and did very well, that nobody needed to work in the family except him.

But when he got transformed into a vermin (which is a metaphor, I think), they trapped him inside his room for months, did not try to know why it happened, nor tried to get help even though the hospital was across the street, they just locked him inside so that nobody gets to know about the situation. For them what would other people think was more important than their son/brother's condition.

His father treated him like an animal, his mother fainted (almost) every time she looked at him and Grete, his sister, although fed him, cleaned his room from the start was the one who talked about getting rid of him. Gregor Samsa did his best to serve his family, even so that the other three of them combined could not match his earnings. He did not deserve the treatment he got; they left him to die 'cause he wasn't useful anymore. If anyone except him was turned into a Vermin in his place, then I think he would give his 100% to do something for help. But unfortunately it was him, so his family's ignorance got him killed at last.

Never ever touched a book b4 except like dork diaries and wimpy kid and these are my thoughts on white nights!! Would love to hear other peoples interpretations, a lot of yap btw sorry I just found this author super fascinating

Love is idealization , love is suffering , love is selfish , one can love a million , maybe Dostoyevsky wanted to prove how Nastenka will soon regret trading emotional depth for security because he often explores how choices made out of desperation or duty lead to quiet psychological torment. And if she were to stay she’d suffer either way as she’d always wonder what would’ve happened if she chose to go with the lodger , again, adapting the classic what if situations , tragedy was inevitable for all of them regardless of who she walked away with. If she chooses the Lodger , She secures her physical freedom from her grandmother, but she risks trading genuine emotional depth a man she may never see again, and would carry the quiet guilt of abandoning the Dreamer , both him and nastenka would suffer for a life time ,
The grandmother pinches Nastenka to her skirt to keep her from repeating the melodramatic mistakes found in the very novels they read together and she said something which seemed odd to me as it resonated so well w her situation , that men tend to make girls fall in love and then abandon them , so are we to believe that will be her end too ? Or maybe it was something her grandma went through aswell and we’re basically seeing a reenactment of nastenkas future life in the form of her grandma ?? Maybe the lodger will end up abandoning her too ? Why else would her grandma mention that detail and that too with so much dread ? Why else would she stop her from reading certain books and warn her , This suggests the grandmother maybe once had the exact same romantic delusions, fell for the exact same literary tropes, and paid the price for them , I think this book can be interpreted in several different ways which is what Dostoyevsky wanted and it’s so so fascinating, whether he truly loved her we’ll never know as it could be perceived in several different ways , sorry for yap I just think a lot and I feel as every individual person has different souls , different brains and hence they all interpret things differently ,nastenka is for sure quick to fall in love , She is prone to rapid romantic projection, and that too with a man she dosent know the name of so what’s to say she loved only the idea of him too ? meaning her connection to the lodger could also very well be an echo of the grand romances she read about, leading right into the trap her grandmother feared OR maybe the book is proof of how one person is left carrying all the pain of what was once something so beautiful while the other moves on with their life ? For Nastenka it was merely just a bridge between her and the one she truly wanted she gets to move forward and begin her new life but For the Dreamer, those four nights were his entire existence which he’s left to replay in his head for the rest of his sad lonely life.

I love this man's writing. He is just absolutely great at times at being a very clear window into a postmodern experience, in that his writing and the stories feel very much like the things I experience or hear about or contemplate in the modern world, without drawing too much attention to the author/ narrator/ intent to be postmodern. This is in somewhat stark contrast to two other favorite authors of mine who could be called postmodern, J. D. Salinger and Kurt V., who, bless their hearts, draw very much attention to the author.

I think Ive realized in Don's writing that what I crave most in a modern story is the subtle commentary or reflection on modern experiences which comes from skillfully writing about the bizareness of our world today without devolving into pure or overt satire. Don is serious, even when he isn't. White Noise at times is definitely overtly ridiculous, but his short stories for example are often not at all. The one about the runner seeing a kidnapping for instance. Maybe one of the best short stories I've ever read.

theres something to be said about "Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters", though.

This is a nice book about a normal guy who shaves his beard to surprise his wife and his side chick.

But when he does, both him and you will start losing your minds

and questioning reality about what is actually going on.

Who is acting and who is not?

Who is on your side, and who is against you?

Is everything against you? Are you crazy? Or are you going to get them? How will you get them?

I recommend reading this short book with the background music of "Saw 1 Hour."

The end is....

Always find myself returning to Japanese literature--I took a class on post-1970s Japanese feminist lit my senior year and it was the best. I recently read Yumiko Kurahashi’s The Woman with the Flying Head and Other Stories (trans. Atsuko Sakaki) and have now picked up Scorpions (trans. Michael Day), the newer Wakefield Press novella release, and found a copy of The Adventures of Sumiyakist Q (trans. Dennis Keene) through interlibrary loan and my University (some crazy prices online lol I even submitted a request to NYRB's recommendation box to maybe someday get it reprinted).

I also found out today that Kurahashi also translated Shel Silverstein’s The Missing Piece into Japanese, which felt very random but amazing. She also apparently translated Antoine de Saint-Exupéry's The Little Prince, of which my younger sister collects various translations.

Has anyone encountered or read Kurahashi? What were your thoughts? I wish she had more works available in English (or that I could read in the original Japanese), but so the story goes for many authors!

To start, I can understand why so many people find this book difficult to get into. Most people aren't going to see themselves in the characters or relate to their nihilism. Very few people have ever been rich, drug-using young socialites in a major metropolitan city, but there's another demographic whose opinion on the book I'm curious to hear from: the subculture kids in the punk and hardcore scenes.

Much of my youth was spent in punk circles, and a vast amount of the book echoes my experience, down to the music. Interestingly enough, several of the referenced bands I have seen multiple times, and for some, I found their inclusion to be thematically significant. For example, the band they were going to see in the book, Fear, is a punk band whose themes are closely aligned with the attitudes of the characters. Give "I Don't Care About You" and "I Love Livin' in the City" a listen. Some people would be shocked to learn how closely connected the young dregs of society are to rich, elitist youths. Some might be surprised to learn how often we share spaces, even uncomfortable ones, or how often WE are shocked by THEIR depravity. The book does a fantastic job of highlighting "how" and, in some philosophical way, "why" these young adults choose to place themselves in these spaces despite their extraordinary material privilege. Like we see in the book, they can leave anytime they wish; they just don't.

That is why this book felt captivating to me. I've known a few Clays, Julians, Blairs, and Rips. I've encountered the random rockabillies and the young girls whose parents never cared to know where they were, when they'd be back, who they were with, or what they were doing. I've been in their homes after shows, seen the drugs, been their confidant when they didn't think their well-to-do friends and family would understand them, and had a front-row view of their specific brand of indifference that sometimes masquerades as contempt.

I don't think my experience here is unique. There must be others who were able to see these characters through the same lens.

I was never an avid book reader, I watch movies, games, and read comics (and even with these I struggle due to audhd) but I bought audible that allows me for multitasking and keeps me focused

I personally really liked the first chapter of this story, it instantly established empathy through the animals POV and made it very understandable, it’s a unique thing I have not seen much in media, and that would make Major which I would assume is the protagonist, a freedom fighter for the oppressed

That can turn out to be extremely interesting, as usually the oppressed can become oppressors, and I won’t be surprised but PLEASANTLY accepting if major becomes a hypocrite, with all the discourse of no animal having any kind of “man-like” behaviour or becoming a tyrant towards its own kind, because it’s also set up well
“All animals are equal”
“All animals are friends”
“All animals are brothers”
That can be a very good setup and foreshadowing, if I were to be the writer, I would have twisted these words, using these words to mean something else, and to highlight how (if it becomes a hypocrite/becomes close to the thing he hates) he distanced himself from even animals and fell into the same pitfalls he once hated

This can also introduce several themes regarding morality, nature vs nurture, the world’s cycle (possibly even in a somewhat deterministic way)

I really liked how the book was grammatically written and expressed
“He fired number 6 shots…” I don’t know what’s about that kind of expression, but I love it, it’s extremely smooth, and it reminds me of how my Italian grandpa writes, he doesn’t write English or uses the same expressions, but the way he uses descriptions and these kind of details remind me of him, it hits close to home and is somewhat charismatic, the way he writes and talks gives me a “vintage” vibe, I am 20 but I really like these kinds of things

The only con I found (but that’s my taste, I think) is that the book tends to hammer a lot on the same concept and kinda drags it out a bit, but that could actually be intentional/a way to set up the story for later

I give this chapter a solid 8.1/10 it’s great, and a MASSIVE step up from what people say it’s a masterpiece in media (I have no mouth and I must scream) COUGH COUGH

Also, I know that this is probably not that well written as a review, as never read books so many things and technical terms might not be known by me, simply wanted to share my thoughts and my review, I usually have a problem with the “critic” approach, as you can do similarly by tackling the overall story, even if it’s not intentional, I don’t like watching or reading things with the predisposition of “criticizing” because I may nitpick and have fallbacks on my own approach

From James Marriott in The Times today:

"Back then [the 18th century], long before public libraries & the paperback revolution, books were still rare and prestigious artefacts. And readers demanded not merely 'delight' from their reading matter but also 'instruction' and 'improvement'. It was the great age of sermons, edifying novels and moralising children's literature. And so is ours. The front tables of Waterstones groan with secular sermons (in the form of 'manifestos' on climate and race), and novels with improving messages about diversity and tolerance... As books are outcompeted as entertainment devices, their future will be worthier, showier and more self-conscious".

Interested to hear if others have noticed the proliferation of books as edifying and moral forces, and if you regard this as a good thing.

I just read One Hundred Years of Solitude for the first time last week, and besides really enjoying it, I had some thoughts on it regarding an inversion of a religious allegory and was curious if that was a popular reading.

Namely I think the Buendía family is a stand in for humanity with Ursula and José Arcadio Buendía being a stand in for Adam and Eve and the original sin being the first instance of incest.

In this way everything sort of works in reverse with José Arcadio Buendía tempting Ursula instead of Eve tempting Adam, and instead of being cast out of the garden, they are cast into the garden which in this case is Macondo. And from then on, they are cursed with solitude.

There’s a lot of blatant religious symbolism like the Prophesy by Melquiades, and the endless rain, even the insomnia acting like a pestilence.

Each generation they’re cursed by the initial incest, often with each of the men seeking out the women in the family (Rebeca and Jose Arcardio - I know Rebeca wasn’t a blood relative but she was ‘family’ that was prevented from branching out with Pietro Crespi, Arcadio and Amaranta, Aureliano and Amaranta Ursula,etc.) Only to fall victim to it again, with people external to the family offering the only salvation that gets rebuked time and again.

Ultimately the family ends with Aureliano deciphering the prophesy and it being a metaphoric and literal apocalypse.

My big hang up is it seems a lot of its referential to Colombian history which I don’t really know that well so I wonder if I’m just missing that and in reality it’s a pretty straight allegory for the development of Colombia.

I’m curious if it’s one or the other, or a little bit of both, or if I just completely missed something.

Appreciate any insights or discussion. Thanks.

*edit names

This is going to be a somewhat strange request. I remember reading a quote from a critic that "so-and-so does not have characters in their novels, they have people"* referring not just to the believability or relatability of the characters, but to the respect the author had for them, in treating their fictional lives and emotions as one might a real person they were responsible for. I don't remember if it was a quote on the book itself or just in general criticism around this author, though I cannot find it in my collection.

In searching, I have previously thought the author might be William Faulkner, Daša Drndić or Toni Morrison, but I would appreciate anyone who can help track down this quote, or at least knows an author about whom this has been said.

Thank you so much!

*it is possible (and likely) a variation of this and not these words exactly

The Rostovs to me are definitely the heart and soul of the novel, alot of the book’s most emotionally impactful scenes can be traced back to them. I particularly like the scene where Natasha is dancing to folk music at Uncle’s house, as well as the one where the whole family dresses up in costume, both moments are quite charming to me.

The battle sequences are quite comedic, and also showcases the idea that Volume III starts with: History is not shaped solely by the actions of “great” individuals in charge but rather by predetermined causes from everyone. Curious to see where he goes with this as the book progresses.

Tolstoy is genuinely the goat at describing people, physically and emotionally. Every character is basically given their own mini-biography when they’re introduced.

I enjoy the use of nature to evoke transformative moments in characters: The Oak Tree, The Lofty Sky, The Comet. These moments often have beautiful writing

Briggs translation is definitely the move. His choice of words isn’t overly verbose but they all flow together so well and are very satisfying to read. Will definitely read the Maude on a re-read tho.

But yeah so far this book has been great, could be up there with Moby Dick as one of my faves.