12.28.2021

Week 52

I must make 1 post--I haven't missed a year since this began.

This hardly has the termitic qualities of a branded space, but I still feel each post must abide by the unspoken but obvious characteristics of its predecessors. I watch many movies, but have increasingly little to say about them. I now read frequently but find little of the particular quality necessary for a good piece. What is there to express? Do I hold a eulogy? When I read a physical book it's hard not to feel how old-fashioned and out-of-date the experience is.. I used to have intense experiences at the movies.. Now only one in a blue moon.
 
The next step is listing the books I read this year (and at the end of 2020) and force out a statement or two for each.

The reading schism was when I got my Kobo and started reading that. The first book on there was Alberto Moravia's Agustino (e-copy), which is about a school boy, his hot mother, and their summer adventures. It's a book which clearly has that immutable quality of great literature that frustratingly can only be stumbled upon. Next I read another Modiano: In the Cafe of Lost Youth (e-copy). It didn't hit like the Occupation trilogy books, but it's still covered with that melancholic feeling of the imagined Paris. Next I read Dublinesque (e-copy), a story about an over-the-hill publisher who spirals away in his obsession with Irish writers. It was similar to the weird Aira coffee-shop essay books, but not quite as harsh, and more showy with its references. Then finally anther Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49 (e-copy), the experience of which I admit was a bit less than satistying. Like, I should have reread each page at least twice to understand a little more. The language still runs through well anyway. I had the same experience reading a couple pages of Mason and Dixon. I may be a few years of prerequisites away. Next I dipped into genre fiction with Dune (e-copy). The political intrigue in the beginning is really what stood out. Tablesetting, when drawn out, can be a real pleasure. The appendix written by Liet "The Ecology of Dune" had a wonderful anonymity. Next, another Modiano, Ring Roads (e-copy). There are no cowards like Modiano's cowards. This dive into genre fiction seems really silly as I think about this one. Next, continuing A Song of Ice and Fire with A Storm of Swords (paperback). Hard to talk about Martin, reading each chapter is just a mild pleasure--a cup of tea. Next I trudged through Stephen King's The Stand (paperback). It was a mistake to pick one of his longer ones. I was bored for nearly all of this, but it's hard to hate something after spending so many months with it. It was also nice to have a book fall into increasingly severe disrepair as I went through it. Next A Feast For Crows (paperback), another Martin. Next Ball Four (paperback), which, though a bad decision, still led to that sought-after church-sermon boredom, which is always fruitful in the grand scheme. Next I dipped into hard sci-fi with Neuromancer. These genre fiction books suck you in with the first 30 pages, then leave you wincing for the rest. Then Camus' The Fall (paperback), which I only enjoyed when in a twisted mood. Finally air again with Philip Roth's Goodbye Columbus and Five Short Stories (paperback). The romance I'd been looking for all along. Next a western from Zane Grey called 30,000 on the Hoof (paperback). It's hard not to love something with regular meandering physical description. It's a bit sad to read something chopped up so badly though. Maybe I'll push through the longer version some day. No more to list, unless I make an unexpected push in the next week.

4 comments:

  1. "it's hard to hate something after spending so many months with it" <-- me every time I think about Antkind

    There's probably a chance you hate every minute of Antkind though

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  2. Book nostalgia is real thing. If there's a kernel of positivity anywhere it'll inflate. I definitely hate Kaufmann as I read it (I just read through a bit again). I might be more apt to read it than I was a year or two ago. It would be more of a what-makes-this-guy-tick motivation. I don't really respect him as an artist (This feels like a separate entity than his screenwriting). And it's so long. This is the scenario where the existence of some short stories by him would be useful. Get in and get out no harm done. I searched hard to find one sentence I liked in Antkind. Found one:

    Black oxfords on feet.

    A fun exercise would be to take a book like this and edit the wording to see if you can get it into something appealing to read. At least at the style level. There are a lot of sentences where just a single word is particularly bothersome.

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    Replies
    1. There are tons of gems in Antkind. And tons of turds. So it's the extreme form of Kaufman. But I wonder whether I'm Thinking of Ending Things deters you like the rest of his stuff. It's the anti-Antkind, mellowest form of Kaufman

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    2. I watched about 40 minutes of it way back when. I recall some seriously painful awkwardness. Especially once they reach the house. I could return to it at some point. It's not at the level of no-way Antkind is.

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