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Books David Finished in 2015

  • Alexander Maksik: You Deserve Nothing: A Novel

    Alexander Maksik: You Deserve Nothing: A Novel
    I generally avoid novels that have their genesis in MFA programs, but I'm glad I happened to pick up this one, You Deserve Nothing. It's the story of Will, an American teaching at an international school in Paris-- reading about that city is always a pleasure--who has an affair with one of his students. That's a banal enough subject, but dividing the story into sections with different characters as the central focus works. There's also lots about teaching, and the relationships, healthy or otherwise, that can grow up between student and teacher. In this the book reminded me of many of Guy Davenport's fictions, which often have an older man mentoring young people at their center. With Davenport we're never meant to consider the sex that goes on between teacher and student as evil, and I think author, Alexander Maksik's stance is similar. Will is a good teacher: he cares about his students, including the one over whom he loses his job.

  • Josephine Tey: A Shilling for Candles

    Josephine Tey: A Shilling for Candles
    Another well written mystery by Josephine Tey. The three bucks I paid for her complete works is looking to be a good investment.

  • Donald C. Wood: And if Strangers Come to Supper

    Donald C. Wood: And if Strangers Come to Supper
    If, like Donald C. Wood, author of And if Strangers Come to Supper (and like the author of this review) you've lived in Japan for a long time one reason you've done so is that you find a lot of things about the place fascinating. Most of us learn early, though, that as inexplicable as this may be, not everyone finds Japan as fascinating as we do. This presents a problem for Japan obsessed novelists: how can they write about Japan without writing about Japan? Wood's solution is to write about an American whose Japanese-American wife has recently died leaving him with a newborn baby, and his increasing involvement--due largely to his curiosity about a gap in his wife's diary--with her family and their business, a Japanese restaurant in Texas. The novel is compelling enough, especially in the early pages before the protagonist reconnects with his wife's family--thus no need for info-dumps--but later, when he is living and working with them the constant explanatory digressions slow things down: "What's that," I asked. "It's a mixture of tonkatsu, onion, and egg, flavored mainly with soy sauce and sugar . . . . "What's tonkatsu?" and so on. One does keep turning the pages, though, to learn the departed wife's secret, skipping over, if one is familiar with Japan, the guide book stuff. One enjoys, too, the subtle use Wood makes of the Japanese folktale, "The Crane Wife."

  • Christopher Isherwood: The World in the Evening

    Christopher Isherwood: The World in the Evening
    First published in the 1950s, Christopher Isherwood's The World in the Evening is a novel that seems many years ahead of its time in its treatment of sex, both homo- and hetero-. It follows the path of a rentier named Stephen Monk through his sexual and social entanglements moving from his present to his past and back again. The novel seems, for its time, particularly enlightened because Monk's forays into same-sex entanglements and also his heterosexual adventures, are neither condemned nor celebrated. Likewise, his sexuality--either kind--is never thought to be definitive. Rather, the sex he has is just something he does. The focus is more on how kind or unkind, manipulative or honest with himself and his partners, Monk is, and what is celebrated at the end is not that Monk has come out (he hasn't, really. Isherwood is never that crude), but that Monk has, finally, attained some sort of emotional maturity. That's right, folks. A novel from the '50s about a sexually ambiguous man who is neither destroyed by society or an icon of liberation. Who would have thunk it?

  • William T Vollmann: The Rainbow Stories (Contemporary American Fiction)

    William T Vollmann: The Rainbow Stories (Contemporary American Fiction)
    William Vollmann's imagination is protean, his eye unerring, and he's able to convey what he imagines and sees in prose that frequently astounds. This is true throughout Rainbow Stories (1989), his second book. I have only dipped into his other work, but I feel certain that my hyperbolic and deserved praise is true of all of it, and yet somehow I can't quite warm to him. Sucked into the stories he tells--of Tenderloin skinheads, prostitutes, and drunks, but also of ancient Babylonians and others--I'm then spit back out; astounded by his verbal prowess, but also eager to get to the end of the story, I find myself, finally, ambivalent. I'm sure that's my problem, not Vollmann's. I will read more . . . but not yet.

  • Richard Askwith: Feet in the Clouds: A Tale of Fell-Running and Obsession

    Richard Askwith: Feet in the Clouds: A Tale of Fell-Running and Obsession
    From my vantage point as a back-of-the-pack duffer I keep an eye on what's happening in the world of trail running, and in the course of doing so I hear the odd word about an English variant called fell running, but only the odd word, because it seems that not too many of the best known European and American runners take part in it. Richard Askwith's account, in which he mixes his own attempts at finishing The Bob Graham Round--one must traverse forty-two Lake District peaks in twenty-four hours--with a history of the sport, has brought me up to speed. Trail running and mountain running are tough wherever one does them, but Askwith has just about convinced me that fell running and fell runners take it to a new level. I hope some of the best American and European runners will try themselves on some of the most challenging British rounds.

  • Iain M. Banks: Use of Weapons (Culture)

    Iain M. Banks: Use of Weapons (Culture)
    This meditation on the use of weapons, and how weapons are sometimes people, and how those people, those weapons, sometimes attack the mind as much as the body is formally the most complex of the three Culture novels I have read; so intricate and intriguing is the form that one immediately wants to read it again (a quick scan of the on-line commentary turns up several "I've just finished my sixth reading of . . . " posts). It is a detailed character study told in alternating chapters, one stream moving forward in time and one moving backward, of a man, a soldier, a weapon, who we find out, by the end of the novel, is not at all the man we think he is. Given the complexity of human beings the intricacy with which Banks presents this character is appropriate and at times astounding.

  • Iain M. Banks: The Player of Games (Culture)

    Iain M. Banks: The Player of Games (Culture)
    If Borges can be seen as a metaphysicist, then Iain. M. Banks, at least in The Player of Games, might be seen as an applied metaphysician. He takes one of Borges's conceits--consciously or unconsciously (I suspect the former)--a society that is governed by the rules of a game, and puts material meat on the bones of the idea. A game player from the advanced semi-anarchist society called The Culture--a society in which games are only games--is called upon to go to a more primitive imperialistic culture that is governed by a game called Azad, and engage in the game that determines pretty much every aspect of that society, most spectacularly who will be Emperor. The working out of this metaphysical conceit--the game is the society is the world--is a satisfying blend of action and idea.

  • Iain M. Banks: Consider Phlebas (Culture)

    Iain M. Banks: Consider Phlebas (Culture)
    Iain M. Banks's Consider Phlebas is usually identified as a space opera, a play on the term soap opera, that suggests the dramatic, sometimes melodramatic, action that characterizes these kinds of books. If that's all Banks were offering us it would not be of much interest, at least to me. What saves it from action movie-style dullness is Banks's world-building, or more accurately, universe building. The book is the first of a series about "The Culture," a future society dispersed over the universe that is sort of Scandinavia on steroids, a society where all material needs (and wants) are met, where people are free to devote themselves to their pleasures, and where decision-making is done on a purely rational basis by sentient machines with much more brain power than mere human beings will ever have. The problem is, there is one desire the culture is unable to meet: the need human beings have not to feel useless. To address this the Culture practices what some of its members call "secular evangelistm": interfering in the histories of other cultures they encounter to bring them, willingly or not, around to the Culture's way of seeing and doing things. Unsurprisingly, this leads to war--though the Culture is ostensibly devoted to peace and opposed to the unreason that is war. This book is devoted to the war between the Culture and the Idirans, "a religiously inspired society determined to extend its influence over every technologically inferior civilization in its path regardless of either the initial toll of conquest or the subsequent attrition of occupation." And the war sets up the space opera in which the protagonist is actually an enemy of the culture with whom Banks skillfully makes us sympathize and who follows a winding path through a variety of worlds and adventures, worlds and adventures that are in every way satisfying.

  • Thomas R. H. Havens: Marathon Japan: Distance Racing and Civic Culture

    Thomas R. H. Havens: Marathon Japan: Distance Racing and Civic Culture
    This book is only for the running-obsessed. The eyes of all others will surely glaze over when turning the pages and (sometimes repetitious) pages of detailed accounts of Japanese athletes' achievements in various domestic and international events over the years—not only marathons, but also, in Japan, ekiden. Eyes may pop open briefly here and there if, for example, one hadn't realized that prior to the advent of the Africans in the 1990s the Japanese had been a real force in marathon running (between 1961 and 1970 fifty-two of the 100 fastest marathon times were by Japanese) or if one hadn't noticed that running is extraordinarily popular among the Japanese masses (302,000 runners, including me, applied for an entry in the Tokyo Marathon in 2014). Although there are occasional stabs at analysis and interpretation, one leaves the book feeling like it is a job half done. Havens has the data—boy does he! Now he, or another scholar, needs to go to work on figuring out what it all means.

Books Julian Read Recently

  • Takashi Hiraide: The Guest Cat

    Takashi Hiraide: The Guest Cat
    Beautifully observed, sometimes almost magical word pictures of the twists and turns of a couple’s quiet life on an old estate in a Tokyo suburb as Showa became Heisei. With appearances by the title cat. (***)

  • Laurie Lee: Cider with Rosie

    Laurie Lee: Cider with Rosie
    Zesty memoir of a childhood in an English village 100 years ago. For all that has been lost, I wouldn’t want to have lived there. Damn, have we moved a long way in the last century, and mostly for the better. (***)

  • Junot Diaz: The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao

    Junot Diaz: The Brief Wonderous Life of Oscar Wao
    Through novels, I live lives I’ll never live. This is about the Dominican Republic, both generally (the horrors, told with a humor only possible when anger has mellowed to acceptance) and personally. It’s written with verve and love, and I loved it. (*****)

  • Ali Smith: How to Be Both

    Ali Smith: How to Be Both
    The first part is a stunt: recreating the voice of a medieval painter as he tells his life story—opaque, often hard to follow, but interesting, and I was won over by the end. So it was disappointing to segue into a less successful modern-day family saga, with arch conversations and smug 60s references, and a poorly thought-through try at combining with the earlier part. (**)

  • Helen Macdonald: H is for Hawk

    Helen Macdonald: H is for Hawk
    From the rawest of material—grief, depression, blood sport--Macdonald fashions an intelligent, vivid, vital portrait of countryside and wildlife in southern England that transcends its nature book genre. To add to the fascination, she mirrors her story in the tale of related experiences that author T.H. White, wounded in his own way, had had 80 years earlier. It is a thrilling, extraordinary book. (****)

  • David Mitchell: The Bone Clocks

    David Mitchell: The Bone Clocks
    I haven’t enjoyed a book so much in I don’t know how long. David Mitchell is still getting better. His forte is multiple stories that weave into each other. This is a massive, magnificent entertainment with a barbed sting in the tail. OK, yes, it includes a genre that I’m not ordinarily interested in, but I went along with it and it worked. It was Booker longlisted. Did the judges not shortlist it because of genre prejudice? (*****)

  • Richard Flanagan: The Narrow Road to the Deep North

    Richard Flanagan: The Narrow Road to the Deep North
    It’s a tribute to our growing emotional maturity as a species that a novel like this 2014 Booker Prize winner could be written: an even-handed account of Australian and Japanese soldiers in World War II, focusing on the horrific POW camps in Burma. It opened the door to my perhaps one day comprehending the minds of those who venerate the spirits of the war dead at Yasukuni Shrine, even when they know it upsets their former adversaries. The harrowing descriptions of the camps were very powerful, but overall I found the book padded, repetitive, emotionally overwrought, and artlessly constructed. (**)

Films Julian Watched Recently

  • Selma
    A powerful, eye-opening history lesson about the courageous fight in 1965 for racial justice in the U.S. South against seemingly insuperable odds. David Oyelowo’s Martin Luther King is a wonderful performance that catches King’s private struggles and his compelling public oratory. The movie is also a memorial to the blood shed and the lives given by people unwilling to follow a status quo they knew was wrong. (Theater) (****)
  • Wolf Children (おおかみこどもの雨と雪)
    A wonderful third animated feature (after The Girl Who Leapt Through Time, and Summer Wars) from Hosoda Mamoru. It begins in Tokyo, with student life and first love, and growing up human but different--well, I suppose the title gives that away. It honors Miyazaki and Totoro when the action first moves to the country, and it honors the efforts of neighbors in helping each other, and of parents in helping their children find their way in life. In only one climactic scene did I think the movie lost the plot, but I give it 5 stars anyway. (DVD) (*****)
  • The Imitation Game
    On the one hand, true stories rarely fit the arc of a satisfying drama. On the other, they can cry out to be dramatized. Faced with this enigma, the filmmakers have wrestled a passable drama from an astonishing story, and the superior acting makes it work better than it might. It is long, and I was riveted throughout. (Theater) (****)
  • The Theory of Everything
    Stephen Hawking and his family’s courage and suffering are unimaginable. This movie takes us through it, in the name of what, entertainment? Heavy on adversity, light on cosmology, it’s extraordinarily painful to watch. (DVD)
  • Interstellar
    Like the recent “Gravity,” this delivers thrills in space, but while “Gravity” was about maximizing the nail-biting tension, this is also interested in telling a jigsaw puzzle of a story. I don’t particularly enjoy the effort of putting the bits together, and there’s always the suspicion that they don’t quite fit, so I’m not a Christopher Nolan fan. I'm also not interested in doomsday scenarios, and this sort of literal escapism. All that said, this is terrifically well made, highly exciting, and it looked and sounded great in IMAX. (Theater, January 2015) (***)

Things NC Consumed Recently

  • F. Scott Fitzgerald: The Great Gatsby
    More than forty years on since my last reading, this classic novel is remarkable not so much for its romantic longings as for its emphasis on American violence, its depiction of a country in which California hardly matters and its meeting of the Mid West and East Coast. Plus its succinct nine chapters, its elegant prose and its almost noirish tone: Tom breaking Myrtle's nose would seem to foreshadow Lee Marvin throwing hot coffee in Gloria Grahame's face in The Big Heat - and the use of flashbacks helps too. I'd like to thank the publicity for the recent film version and my current cold for sending me back to the novel (and my young self).
  • Isabelle Eberhardt
    In 1904, Isabelle Eberhardt drowned in the desert, leaving behind, among other things, various writings in French (a novel, travel notes, a journal, short stories), Islam, Lake Geneva, a husband, debauchery in kif, sex and alcohol, and a small collection of male clothing, which she wore habitually, along with her man's name. The lazy say she was an early hippie, because of her nomadic, hedonistic life, and being the first one to die at 27. Lindqvist has her in a line from Villon, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Celine and Genet. Her story can only get stranger and more fascinating. "In The Shadow of Islam", "The Passionate Nomad", "The Oblivion Seekers" and Annette Kobak's biography are one way in. You'll find there an apt fatal romanticism for vast desert spaces and a depiction of Islam to ponder. Among other things.
  • Listen to Britain - Humphrey Jennings
    Terence Davies is surely right to say Listen to Britain is in part an attempt to define the nation on the eve of its being invaded. But that invasion never came. A little prematurely, Humphrey Jennings's film records what left later, with something messier, less defined usurping through the back door. Terence Davies is surely right to say Listen to Britain is one of the greatest things these islands have produced.
  • Patience (After Sebald)
    Grant Gee's documentary uses a palette of pale black and white, maps and talking heads to comment on W.G. Sebald's The Rings of Saturn, an account of his walk through Suffolk. Unlike the book, where a variety of genres (and photographs) coheres to make a recognisable whole, the film suffers slightly from a lack of direction. It is too specific to serve as an introduction and lacks an overriding arc that might describe a thesis. However, with its archival footage, interviews with the author and shots of the route taken, it is essential viewing for those already in thrall to all things Sebaldian - even if the ending, alas, veers close to Conan Doyle and fairies-in-the-garden territory.
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