Showing posts with label DALKEY ARCHIVE. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DALKEY ARCHIVE. Show all posts

Friday, December 9, 2016

A RELIC FOR AIDAN HIGGINS

            Discovered in a book as I was moving other books.  A relic.

I was asked by Cornelius Anthony Murphy (Assoc Prof)--- as it is listed on his e-mail---to write about Aidan Higgins as I had contributed to the Review of Contemporary Fiction a piece entitled "51 Pauses After Reading Aidan Higgins" now many years ago.
         Cornelius Anthony Murphy (Assoc Prof) decided it was not for his book of essays on Aidan Higgins.


         Aidan Higgins wrote two great books LANGRISHE, GO DOWN and BALCONY OF EUROPE.  He also wrote some very good short descriptive travel pieces and short pungent notices in Hibernia, a newspaper in Dublin… and then he made the mistake of writing and writing and writing and writing.
         NOW: Actually READING a book (LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD by Aidan Higgins.

         Got to find some therapy./This treatment is taking too long.  "Twenty four Hours"  ---Ian Curtis.  JOY DIVISION
a-
         Letters from Cornelius Anthony Murphy (Assoc Prof):  Any word on the Higgins article?  Sorry to be a pest but the publisher is on my trail. I am hoping…
         I really hope you can pull something together, about LIONS, or something else even (Balcony?) as I really…
         Just checking to see if you've been able to muster any enthusiasm for the Higgins piece.  I too re-read LIONS recently and am less taken with it than previously--- bad time in the game for me to shift my point of view!  I hope you've found some way through the thickets that appear to have sprouted around you…
        
Letter in reply:       You will have an essay… but since you asked for something I will write and have I think a way into Higgins.

                                            
a-
         I must have bought LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD by Aidan Higgins in January of 1994 because in those years I was going to London in that month for a few weeks every year.  As I open the paperback, as I have been opening the paperback during the summer of 2008 and now it is the autumn and I am still opening the book:  it is falling apart and the pages long ago began to brown and I am sure it will not survive for many more years.
         The edition I have was published by Martin Secker and Warburg Ltd--- then part of Reed Consumer Books --- as paper original with what they fall French flaps.  The name of the author is printed in a golden box.  That year Secker books had a distinct look and that ended rather quickly.
         Currently LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD seems out of print both in the UK and in the US.  It is available for 99p in the UK and for eight dollars in the US.
         As many know Dalkey Archive has taken to reprinting many of Higgins' books and it is a noble endeavor.  From the very start of that press the publication of Higgins' work was a priority. 
         I do not know if Dalkey will be publishing for the first time LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD in the US… but I am pretty sure all the people who want a copy of this Higgins title already have it and it is unlikely that many people would be seeking it out. 
                                                             a-
          Of course I could be wrong and hope I am wrong as everything that Higgins writes is of interest as he and Desmond Hogan and Dorothy Nelson are pretty much it when it comes to prose writing in Ireland after James Joyce, Samuel Beckett, Flann O'Brien, Francis Stuart.  Of course there are many many prose writers in Ireland: almost as many as the standing army of Irish poets but but but…
a-
Berlin is a fascinating place, maybe less so now that it has been reunited and become a sort of entertainment zone for the privileged subsidized international artistic middle class.  During the time of a divided Berlin Uwe Johnson--- as readers may actually remember--- wonderfully perceptive hard earned and authentic books were set in Berlin and in that moment of  two Germanys… but now as the years have gone by  writers as good as Julian Rios and Ceese Nooteboom have fallen under the sway of Berlin and come to a certain defeat… and part of the reason is that they are not prepared to admit their ignorance of the complexity of Berlin--- they have to use it as background, mere background painted on…
a-
         Higgins's book is based on his own residence in Berlin--- just before the actual fall of the Berlin Wall as a guest of one of those international sinecures that the German government uses to get people to come to Berlin for a period of time…
         Higgins gives into the mostly deadly of all traps: the academic literary satire… and crosses it with a sentimental entanglement of the central character Dallan Weaver who is a guest of DILDO (Deutsche-Internationale Literatur-Diesnt Organisation   and it is probably right there in that footnote attached to a listing of characters, just after the CONTENTS that the book falls apart.
a-
         ---It is understood that LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD is Higgins's favorite book

                                             a-
The trouble continues right in the prologue with a slice of jazzed up or down -potted history:  "Zukov's men, the advanced spearheads, entered Berlin through the northern suburbs, screeching as they ran. The infantry went in first over the mine fields and tank traps to be blown to glory; others came on screeching wave after wave. Then the tanks went in."(P.1-2)
         This is immediately followed by, "The sneery sculptor who had fluent Spanish asked Weaver what was his astrological sign." (p.2)
         The word sneery, astrology and the previous ham fisted allusion to the Battle for Berlin got me to close the novel right there the first time I tried to read the novel though I had noted that Rudolf Hess is helpfully listed with the others characters in the book as "the last Nazi in Spandau Prison." (P. x)

                                                      a.
So, one tries again in the summer, so many years later, having remembered having defending Balcony of Europe for an early issue of the Review of Contemporary Fiction-- when it was neither profitable or even useful for a resume to echo Flann O'Brien.
a-
Well, the Weavers ( should we really read Higgins, wife and child?) house hunt for a place during their Berlin stay.  There is party going.  Mention of Rudolf Hess comes before two mentions of the "bullet riddled Amerika Haus" (p33) and "Amerika Haus was bullet riddled." (p46).
a-
"And where had the brainy Prof read that all whales have syphilis?" (p.33) It is that word brainy coupled with Prof that makes the sentence read like a bad translation…
a-
Early on and sadly dominating the book THE AFFAIR complete with the wife Nancy, "the dispossessed and disgruntled spouse." (p.97)  There will be the other woman, Lore, who will having been made pregnant:  "Their child's life  had been terminated in The Hague by the sinister lady abortionist…"(p.267).
a-
Another un-necessary word: "The right-hand window of Margot Schoeller's famous bookstore…" (P.71)  How could  Higgins allow his man Weaver to think that or he to write it?  But it sets up a moment of letting us know that Higgins, Weaver knows Samuel Beckett who has just received the Nobel Prize.  AS good anecdote is recorded, "Watt (dismissed by its author into Weaver's ear as not so much shit as dysentery." (P.73).
a-

But the book is not all heterosexual.  After all this is Berlin: "Two sad sodomites  frantic with grief and betrayal  were copulating in the snow, lit by the headlights of a parked car… Weaver averted his eyes as he would have looked away from a bloody  traffic accident. (p.56).

                                             a-
12 pages are given over to Weaver's child's writing.  Enough said.  A sort of filler, I guess.  Allows for a ink drawing by the "brilliant son" (P.87) of the author.
a-
         3 pages of dreams.  No check attached for listening.  At the going rate today of 150$ per fifty minutes…how many sessions would they require?
a-
But followed up by more Dublin gossip:  well that old warhorse Brendan Behan hungover demanding that his wife, "Come up here with you now, Bethrice, an' thrim me  toenails." (p.135)  and there is mention of "wild Ralph Cusack" (P.134) and I would have liked to have had him about for more than a name drop.
a-
And then the reader is off to drunken Spain but we have been there and in far better verbal company in BALCONY OF EUROPE but we are quickly--- since these pages are read quickly out of embarrassment--- though it takes ages as is said but we are back in Berlin right smartly: "The British Council always gave good parties."(p202);  "Lore(the mistress, girlfriend whatever as the kids might say) had discovered a good Japanese restaurant near Fat George's flat…" (P.211); "In the summertime (when the living is easy) it was a very different story."(p.216)  The parenthetical phrase is Higgins and he bears full responsibility for it, sadly.

                                             a-
But off to Munich during Olympic season.  Israelis will be murdered ( it is THAT Olympics) and now it gets cloudy.  Is the following the author, Weaver or who? "When a pure negroid (small n) American could run faster, jump faster and fly first over hurdles faster than any white man, that only  confirmed his own conviction abut racial degeneracy: those fellows had just come down out of the trees. (p241)   
a-
         I missed listing some more "famous" people who appear or are mentioned: Per Olaf Enquist, Leni Riefenstahl, Volker Schlondorff, Margarethe von Trotta who you might like to know, "spent some time under the table retrieving poor shots, sulking 'shitshitshit!"(p243)
                                             a-

And not to let a name go: "Hess was still serving pit his life sentence in Spandau Prison, the Russians would not him go. (P.252).
a-
Now that we are nearly at the end of the book a selection of letters from Berlin to Weaver and one letter from Lore that prepare us for the disappearance of the wife and how true something lives… some years after the body of the book.
a-
And an epilog he (whether it is Higgins or Weaver?) conflates a meeting between Gunter Grass and Max Frisch and manages to drag in Uwe Johnson and an allusion to Ingeborg Bachmann which is supposed to?... beats me, I have to point out that one of the he's or the proofreader overlooks the misspelled Frishe (p299) while making some point about the Gauloises smoked by Grass and the pipe tobacco stained fingers of Frisch…
a-
I found a book marker reminder (though I can't explain the dates because as we know LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD was published in 1993) of an earlier reading of LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD in the form of a newspaper clipping, now a darker brown than the pages of the book:  from the December 25, 1978 THE VILLAGER ( a local paper in Greenwich Village, NY:

DEATH ON 12TH STREET: At 6 pm on December 12, a resident of 343 West 13th Street was found by two friends hanging by the neck in his apartment.  The 31 year-old resident, wearing a leather-studded collar, a gas mask with the air vents closed and other assorted sexual equipment, apparently choked to death.  The case while is may be an accidental death, is being investigated by the First Homicide squad.

But this scrap can serve as a telling commentary for we know that much of LIONS OF THE GRUNEWALD appeared in previous books and while movie directors are endlessly providing new versions (think of Oliver Stone's various Final cuts of ALEXANDER) I would have had no problem---as is said--- with a book solely of observation and quotation but the sheer dreariness of the love/sexual triangle: why not just publish the divorce degree and parts of the hearing transcript if such exists?
b-
         I would like to read a NEW book by Higgins of his life in Ireland.
c.
Aidan Higgins is still the best English-language prose stylist in the country.
                                    ---Nuala Ni. Dhomhnaill.

New York

-->
1 October  2008

Sunday, January 10, 2016

COMING ATTRACTIONS


1.              From The Wall Street Journal:  Nobody needs to buy a book,” says Jane Friedman, CEO of Open Road, which promotes its titles via EarlyBirdBooks.com.  “You have to make it appealing, and one of the best ways to do that is price.”
2.           A writing Life, again, as I had written such a life for the Dictionary of Literary Biography Yearbook of 2002, at the invitation of George Garrett, now dead, as soon I will be, no doubt, the only fate we can  be sure of.
BUT IN THE MIDST OF THIS SOME BOOKS THAT SEEM TO BE ALIVE FOR ME IN THE MOMENT…. The year of books for me: Wolfgang Hilbig’s “I” published by Seagull Books but the absence of any new books of translations of Thomas Bernhard was again a lost year though Douglas Robertson  at http://shirtysleeves.blogspot.com is making available unauthorized translations of TB and I have enjoyed the letters of TB to his publisher and a translation of UNGENACH and while not at the level of CORRECTION of EXTINCTION … still takes us to GARGOYLES of fond memory.  In so many ways Thomas Bernhard and Louis Ferdinand Celine… make remote every contemporary American writer… none that I know of come close to these two and I include myself in this… yet the writing continues as does the reading.

 I have finally discovered or renewed my acquaintance with Elemire Zolla whose THE ECLIPSE OF THE INTELLECTUAL has now been joined by THE WRITER AND THE SHAMAN  A Morphology of the American Indian because to go west as I am doing this month is to always go toward the American Indian…  which is probably of the higher sort of cliché…D.H. LAWRENCE… CAMILO JOSE CELA, even J.M.G. LeCLezio---all of the more famous… The American Indian is both always present and always absent…

(The phrase Native American  has a slight condescending tone to it: anything that is official academic speak is patronizing in some offensive way…
      For me the best novel about the American West remains Cela’s CHRIST VERSUS ARIZONA… none other comes close sadly, not even William Eastlake or LeClezio’s books who at least for me lost his way after TERRA AMATA…but I must not know what I am talking about as he did not get the Nobel Prize for TERRA AMATA but for what I thought the wrong turn…
          YET, Patrick Modiano is a worthy Nobel Prize winner and we are blessed with many of his books into English:  OUT OF THE DARK which moves from Paris to London in the 60s reverberated for me as he was able to describe at least in the London part of the book the world I knew there and in Dublin; the casual meetings with the rich, the famous, people in on something or other and open to meeting people like his narrator and I so identify with that narrator… it is embarrassing in some way… and my ST PATRICK’S DAY when it appears might be another proof via the descriptions of London and Dublin and dare I say New York City… a mingling among. a messing about with… now no longer possible for too many sad and obvious reasons.  Here is a bit from Modiano describing one of those typical figures who moved through our lives in retrospect, dramatically, reflectively and as the real cliché word would have it: unforgettable until of course forgotten but suddenly remembered by a McGonigle or here by Modiano: 
“He kept girls much younger than he was, and he put them up in apartments like the one in Chepstows (sic. There is no S) Villas.  He came to see them in the afternoon, and, without undressing, with no preliminaries, ordering them to turn their back to him, he took them very quickly, as coldly and mechanically as if he was brushing his teeth.  Then he would play a game of chess with them on a little chessboard he always carried with him in his black suitcase.
  
             NOTE: my wife as a 15 year old girl was living in Chepstow Villas many years later in the Estonian Center attached in some way to the Estonian Embassy, a legacy of unrecognized conquest of Estonia by the Soviet Union following World War Two, with her mother when a call came announcing the death of her father back in the USA where he was an itinerant Lutheran minister attending to the needs one of his congregations in Baltimore to which he traveled from their home in Edison, New Jersey, twice a month…
           and I too walked by that street,  year after year, when I would  go in January to London to visit the Oldfields who lived in Ladbroke Grove but to walk by this street and then along the Portobello Road always remembering the upstairs flat where I stayed when I  had come over from Dublin to go to a ball at Clivden... though Profumo and poor Christine Keeler were but a scent in the swimming pool where I went swimming with Antonia Peck, now dead, a suicide--- and Caroline Fleming  Bowder who wrote two novels and now writes plays which seem to be popular about people afflicted by  terrible diseases …
2.     My two books remain in print: THE CORPSE DREAM OF N. PETKOV (In paper from Northwestern University Press/hardcover  from Dalkey Archive) and GOING TO PATCHOGUE (In paper and hardcover from Dalkey Archive).  I am not fully sure of their actual availability from Dalkey Archive as I have had no accounting from them for many years but they remain in printed and listed on the Dalkey Archive web page.
3.     In the Fall of 2016 the University of Notre Dame Press is scheduled to publish my ST. PATRICK’S DAY (another day in Dublin).   Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill, Julian Rios and James McCourt have supplied blurbs for the book and the book has been awarded the Notre Dame Review Prize. 
            I will believe this when I have the actual book in hand.  A contract has been signed.  The prize money has been received and the check did not bounce… ($1000).  There was no actual advance for the book and it would take hundred of thousands copies sold before I would have enough money to say get a plane ticket to Dublin.  This is the reality of publication in the real world outside the fantasy world of gossip columns in the pages of Vanity Fair…
I am not complaining but the sourness is evident XXXXXX xxxxxxxxxxxxxx  [[[[I moved a section from here to the end of the text so as to not confuse the reader--- few as they  may be----  as I do not want to dismissed as supping solely upon sour grapes]]]] xxxxxxxxxx
xxxx
xxxxx

I am glad that Dalkey Archive has survived the severing of its ties to the University of Illinois and is now located in Texas with an office in Dublin.  While no longer distributed by Columbia University Press… Dalkey Archive books are available from Amazon, though not as easily accessible in the usual books stores as their current distributor is rather obscure.
And I have continued to write and have if anyone is interested  a few manuscripts that could and should be published: 
JUST LIKE THAT
EMPTY AMERICAN LETTERS,
WITH ELIZABETH,
NOTHING DOING
I am writing        WESLEY HE IS ALMOST DEAD
And
                           DIPTYCH BEFORE DYING.
YEARS AGO back when editors read books, read magazines and newspapers  I had two letters from editors after I published two stories in the VILLAGE VOICE  a son’s father’s day and Goodbye W.H.Auden  One of those editors Kate Medina was already a prominent editor and she continues on in publishing…
For years and years I have published hundreds of reviews in the Washington Post, New York Newsday, the Chicago Tribune and the Los Angeles Times… and have never once received a note from any editor of any sort enquiring after my so-called literary work… not even after both books were reviewed in the New York Times and Going to Patchogue was even the subject of feature stories in both the New York Times and Newsday…
A NEW SECTION
Of course there is background
        WHO IS NADINE GORDIMER?

                                WHEN AT COLUMBIA in 1972  Nadine Gordimer taught at the School of the Arts:
"The natural writer's magic could be honed by a creative writing course, but never created. "Although deadly serious about his desire to write," she (NADINE GORDIMER) commented on student Thomas McGonigle, "he also has a an equally deadly facility." But she was delighted to be proven wrong on him when decades later, she began to notice and enjoy McGonigle's essays in the Los Angeles Times Book Review. [from NO COLD KITCHEN, A Biography of Nadine Gordimer by Ronald Suresh Roberts]             
            I put the above on my Facebook page and then commented:  BUT IT COULD BE SAID LOOK AT THAT STUPID ASSHOLE--- PILES AND PILES OF MANUSCRIPTS THAT WILL JUST HAVE TO BE THROWN OUT WHEN HE CROAKS. DIDN'T HE SEE THE WORLD WAS CHANGING--THE LATIMES IS MOSTLY CLOSED UP AS ARE THE PUBLISHERS AND I BET NOT A SINGLE YOUNG WRITER IN BROOKLYN KNOWS WHO GORDIMER IS AS ISN'T BROOKLYN THE LAST PARADISE OF THE WRITTEN WORD BUT ONLY THE DEAD KNOW BROOKLYN.
                And then to really prove my own case I decided to put up what I have been working on as a way to avoid going back to finish EMPTY AMERICAN LETTERS, what might me my last book, a journey about Bulgaria, but to avoid that I have been writing out little voyages of going to Newfoundland and Mexico City with my father in 1973 after my mother died and this lead to what was here on the blog recently OVERLOOKED OBITUARY

FINALLY:  If you want to read the self-censored section please write to me and I will send it as a private communication: tmcgonigle@hotmail.com

Wednesday, December 3, 2014

I WAS MURDERED, NOT KILLED



         I have not posted with much frequency this year. 
It is not for a lack of wanting. 
        I have been reading a number of books that a year or so ago I would have written about: 
                        THE SYMMETRY TEACHER by Andrei Bitov
                        THE MAUOLEUM OF LOVERS by Herve                                   Guibert
                        THE COLLECTED POEMS OF SAMUEL                                       BECKETT
                        ARDOR by Robert Calasso
                        A MILLION WINDOWS by Gerald Murnane
                        and the book that I have ever so slowly been reading  THE WALL by H.G. Adler…ever so slowly in the way that I read the DEATH OF VIRGIL by Hermann Broch.

        I did post a short notice about the 100th anniversary of the birth of the author of HOPSCOTCH---  a book that has always been a touchstone within my imaginative life--- a book that freed me from the crap that was being served up to readers in the 60 as worthy--- from those well-known bad writers (in Edward Dahlberg’s phrase) John Hawkes, Philip Roth, Saul Bellow etc etc---Hawkes in particular was the darling of so called with-it profs, but I would have said but did not have Dahlberg’s suggestion: it is better to watch daytime television than to destroy your sense of the book with the efforts of a Hawkes… another writer who was served up was Thomas Pynchon but the truth is that only V remains readable and was the only one which was readable… the profs went for other books of his which are more useful as intimidating clubs to really discourage students… but I am not even going to mention those titles…
        Of course, I still treasure my discovery of Samuel Beckett’s HOW IT IS and just before that on the night ferry from Glasgow to Dublin, Beckett’s FROM AN ABANDONED WORK…I remember announcing to Professor David Stocking at Beloit College…that Beckett has ended the so-called traditional novel and the smug reply of Stocking:  Beckett’s ended it for himself  of course these smug professors got theirs when they invited the feminist critical theory race-hustling post-colonial etc ideologues to take over the English departments thus sending those who still wanted to read  into the science departments…

What has stopped me: I was murdered with forethought and intent by John (Jack) O’Brien, the founder and owner of of Dalkey Archive Press by his not publishing my ST. PATRICK’S DAY. 
        On May 20, 2012  he signed a contract to publish the book within two years. That time came and went and there was not even a note offering any sort of excuse. 
        Just silence.
        Hard to believe and yet the common reaction is that this happens all the time, what’s so unusual about his actions, you got the 300$ advance and he didn’t ask for it back… you got the rights back… so what? move on… it happens all the time and no one really cares as there is no public out their hungering for more and more books, let alone your book…
        Of course Dalkey Archive continues on and is now distributed by Columbia University Press.  O’Brien maintains three offices here in the US, in London and in Dublin… and he has contracted to publish the Korean library of Literature in translation, beginning with 15 titles for which there has been a huge and growing demand in the United States and all other English speaking countries.  O’Brien has also contracted to publish a Georgian (the country not the state) Library of Literary works beginning with 10 books for which there has been an unprecedented demand in both England and the United States.
        As to O’Brien’s motive--- and that is what one waits for--- I have known Jack for more than 30 years.  He is the godfather of one of my children.  He has published two of my books.  He even began publishing parts of ST. PATRICK’S DAY in the earliest issues of the journal he owns, THE REVIEW OF CONTEMPORARY FICTION.  We have visited back and forth over the years.  We have witnessed each other’s divorces and awhile ago O’Brien suffered a devastating breakdown of his circulatory system which required major life-threatening surgery.  Happily he survived that surgery and while in the recovery room we talked by phone and he said, “Tom, I don’t know if I am alive or dead.”
        That confession of momentary abject powerlessness and his knowing that he said this to me, I believe. is at the root of his failure to publish ST. PATRICK’S DAY. 
        The oldest crime in the Bible: Cain and Abel: animal sacrifice versus crops from the soil--- the sheer arbitrariness of God preferring Abel over Cain---who knows.. and that is my understanding…the god-like arbitrariness… the ultimate power of God and what Lucifer’s rebellion aspires to…  And unlike Jack--- in his unloved solitary life of travelling the world looking for countries who would like to pay very big sums of money to see libraries in English of their novelists’ books… I have been blessed by meeting Anna and having been with her now for more than 20 years… 
        So, my final understanding is that O’Brien was exercising his freedom and so performed this sort of gratuitous act, an attempt at a mortal wound, an attempt to destroy, to hurt.

                                        GOOD NEWS

        John (Jack) O’Brien had murdered me but—here is the good news--- he did not kill me as I have now learned that ST. PATRICK’S DAY another day in Dublin will be published in the Spring of 2016 and is due to receive some sort of prize.