Thursday, 14 February 2008

2007_09_01_archive



Our desperate friend

The Editor's Corner at The Book Depository makes a good point about

the recent survey that found "almost 10% of Britons aspire to being an

author". No, Mr Ed points out, most of that 10% want to be JK Rowling,

which is something else.

Even so, many do still wish to become authors, even if it means

working "very hard for very little recognition and for precious little

money". Creation is its own reward (apparently). With this fresh in

mind, I began to read Enrique Vila-Matas' novel Montano's Malady (I

refuse to link to the English edition and its cretinously truncated

title). It's about a man who is literature-sick. Every situation in

his life is immediately related to a memory of literature. Someone, he

decides, looks like Robert Walser, which reminds him of that WG Sebald

said Robert Walser looked like his grandfather and died in the same

way, walking in the mountains, and so on. (Vila-Matas reminds me,

incidentally, of a comic WG Sebald, if you can imagine such a thing).

The narrator introduces his son, Montano, whose malady is the

inability to write any further. The struggle with literature-sickness

and Montano's Malady maintains the book's energy and, as Three Per

Cent's review says, is also a sort of manifesto for a renewal of

literature against its enemies (aka "Pico's moles").

The great thing about the novel is that it's both very light on the

surface yet also profound, moving and inspiring. No way is it "heavy

stuff" as one mooing reviewer claimed. It's an ideal, unputdownable,

thumping-good-read for that ambitious 10%. They can see their

situation portrayed in a novel. Not being able to go on is, after all,

a vital part of life.

I'm going to go to the kitchen to have a yogurt; I shall be

accompanied by the desperate friend who always goes with me, that

friend who is myself and who, so as not to fall into the clutches

of cursed despair, writes this diary, this story of a soul trying

to save itself by helping the survival of literature, this story of

a soul no sooner strong and steady than it succumbs to depression,

in order then, laboriously, to get back on its feet, to readjust

through work and intelligence, constantly battling with Pico's

moles.

at 6:59 AM 0 comments

Catch up

Only 48 hours without an internet connection and it's like I've been

lost up the Orinoco (or the Ouse in my case). So here's a catch up:

Claire Messud makes a surprise recommendation of The Loser by the

"crabby, darkly witty, furiously bleak and utterly uncompromising

Thomas Bernhard". (Dispatches from Zembla also picked up on this and

links to my scan of Mr Claire Messud's review from 1992). The novel,

she writes:

puts us inside the head of a coldly embittered man, who aspired to

be a great pianist -- until he heard Glenn Gould play, and realized

he could never be as good. It is, you see, about being talented,

and still being a loser.

Well, if I were being picky, I'd want to emphasise that the narrator's

failure is apparent only in his success as the narrator, which gives

hope to all us other losers. It's the way to go. (Link via the

Bernhard site, which also offers a recent review of the novel by Gould

expert Kevin Bazzana).

By the way, I say it's a surprise recommendation because, from reading

about Messud's novels, I wouldn't imagine them influenced in any way

by Bernhard. I had hoped if more English-speaking novelists "got" his

work, they would never write such novels again. Hope?, Bernhard?!

Elsewhere, Charlotte Stretch reviews Beno�t Duteurtre's The Little

Girl and the Cigarette, which I know nothing more about except that he

comes recommended by Milan Kundera and that the novel is translated by

Charlotte Mandell, a recommendation in itself. The novel is published

over here by Telegram Books "bringing new writing from around the

world" and by Melville House in the US.

An apparently much smaller outfit, Inkermen Press, has recently

published Daniel Watt's intriguing Fragmentary Futures: Blanchot,

Beckett, Coetzee. I appreciate the way this book draws in a living

writer to argue "the legacy of the fragment remains as much a

responsibility for modern literature as for the event of the German

Romantic fragment":

The work of Coetzee demonstrates the fragment's relation to

Levinasian ethics, inviting a responsiveness to the 'other': a

situation that maintains the singularity of the work without

reducing it to particular critical positions.

at 4:33 AM 4 comments

October 2007 August 2007 Home

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My Shelfari Bookshelf

Shelfari: Book reviews on your book blog

email address

Please contact me, Stephen Mitchelmore, at steve dot mitchelmore at

gmail dot com

Literary and other links

* British Literary Blogs

* ReadySteadyBook blog

* Spurious

* Book Depository: Editor's Corner

* The Literary Saloon

* The Existence Machine

* The Reading Experience

* Scarecrow Comment

* Guardian Books Blog

* The Quarterly Conversation

* KCRW Bookworm

* BookForum

* wood s lot

* Mountain 7

* Todd Colby's Glee Farm

* Three per cent

* Tales from the Reading Room

* The Bibliophilic Blogger

* The Penguin Blog

* TLS: Peter Stothard

* Mary Beard

* Nomadics: Pierre Joris

* Lenin's Tomb

* Dispatches from Zembla

* Waggish

More literary blogs

* Jonathan Swift's Journal to Stella

* The Best of New Writing on the Web

* John Self's Asylum

* Anatomy of Melancholy

* The Truth About Lies

* Nigel Beale: Nota Bene

* Thomas McGonigle's ABC of Reading

* Vertigo: Collecting WG Sebald

* Un Arbre dans la Ville

* The Wooden Spoon

* The Joyful Knowing

* The Reader Onliine

* In Abstentia Out

* Jacob Russell's Barking Dog

* eNotes Book Blog

* Diderot's Diary

Book buying

* *Steve's Wishlist*

* The Book Depository - Cheap books and free delivery

* Booksprice - price comparisons

* Abebooks

Favoured author sites

* Maurice Blanchot

* Thomas Bernhard (German equivalent)

* Gabriel Josipovici

* Peter Handke (German equivalent)

* Princeton Dante Project

* Proust: Temps Perdu

* The Kafka Project

* Charlotte Mandell

* Noam Chomsky

* John Pilger

Blog Archive

* February 2008 (1)

* January 2008 (10)

* December 2007 (26)

* November 2007 (28)

* October 2007 (16)

* September 2007 (24)

* August 2007 (15)

* July 2007 (17)

* June 2007 (11)

* May 2007 (23)

* April 2007 (11)

* March 2007 (24)

* February 2007 (27)

* January 2007 (21)

* December 2006 (9)

* November 2006 (24)

* October 2006 (21)

* September 2006 (19)

* August 2006 (15)

* July 2006 (33)

* June 2006 (17)

* May 2006 (24)

* April 2006 (17)

* March 2006 (18)

* February 2006 (15)

* January 2006 (8)

* December 2005 (8)

* November 2005 (10)

* October 2005 (7)

* September 2005 (14)

* August 2005 (14)

* July 2005 (8)

* June 2005 (15)

* May 2005 (11)

* April 2005 (13)

* March 2005 (9)

* February 2005 (7)

* January 2005 (16)

* December 2004 (2)

* November 2004 (4)


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