HAVE YOU READ A GOOD BOOK?

The Los Angeles Times Book Section has officially become a ghost of its own self and while there will be no attempt to reproduce that newspaper’s section, or indeed all the various book sections which at one time filled newspapers across the country with an interest in books: think if you are old enough:  Newsday, The New York Herald Tribune, The Washington Post, the Chicago Tribune, the Chicago Sun Times ( and please provide me with more newspapers) I was thinking of a shade, a far more intimate connection to a once living reality  may be brought back to life.  

So, if readers have found books that have not been reviewed or if they were reviewed, were reviewed badly, readers can use some of the space  ABCOFREADING.blogspace.com has carved from the fields of forgetfulness, to share these reports with the vast audience that is ever awaiting  new appearances  by mrans of  a new post at      ABCOFREADING.blogspot.com.

Readers should send their reviews to me at tmcgonigle@hotmail.com and if I agree with your report I will put it up as soon as I can. 

The question of course is:  what will I put up at ABCOFREADING.blogpspot.com.  The best way to determine if you are within the orbit of this moon, this shade, is by having wadded through several posts  where the writer’s prejudices are quite evident and I operate always at the level  of refined prejudice. 

Most of these newspapers continue on in their ghostly way, but as the audience for newspapers continues to disappear into the earth, I thought for a few more brief moments to keep  alive that sense of finally here is a book I have been waiting  all these years for … this happened to me and it is in the book columns I discovered: Thomas Bernhard, Gerhard Roth, Peter Nadas, Joseph Roth, Robert Pinget, Claude Simon, Alain Robbe-Grillet. Yashar Kemal, Yukio Mishima … most of what I learned in school and in America school goes from pre-kindergarten to post docs in nuclear physics…

  

You can share your own book but if you do that you have to share a book  you have discovered on the way to your own book…

Like Ezra Pound who provided the title for this blog, we are not interested in the starters of crazes, we know there are many writers of belles-lettres, and those who make up probably the bulk of the published, m good writers without salient qualities, and a trickier bunch, the diluters who water down as it were the masters and at those  at the top, the inventors, who are few in memory

PAIN IS BORING: some reading and the opening paragraph from ST. PATRICK'S DAY Dublin 1974

c--- Pain is boring and for the last six months I have been having pain in my lower right leg.  Seems I fell in the winter and now there will be an operation on the spine:  some have suggested I will end up in a wheelchair with loss of bowel and bladder while others have been more hopeful, including the Xray technician who said Good Luck after taking the final X-rays.

d--- More than forty years ago when I would talk with Edward Dahlberg is in windowless rooms on the Upper West Side of Manhattan he would complain about being posthumous.  He was exaggerating  a little as his Confessions  were about to be published but indeed he knew what he was speaking of because in the obit the NY Times, stupid as always, missed his real claim to the future: BECAUSE I WAS FLESH.

    

--- I have inherited this knowing  from Dahlberg…  and one can feel the stomping feet upon the grave… but I read his inscription: FOR THOMAS, WHOM I LIKE VERY MUCH AND WHO, I HOPE WILL BE MY FRIEND. DEC 21, 1970 NYC.  That friendship endured until the late Spring.  I published excerpts from an interview I did with him in the University Review, a free newspaper distributed on college campuses…I learned that you should not use the same noun twice in one paragraph, that you will always feel that you are be inflicted upon by the well known by writers of the day, and that you should never begin to write without first reading a book by a writer greater than you will ever be since writing should be a constant state of humiliation

---Today,  a list of well known bad writers would have to include Jonathan Franzen, Don DeLillo, Salman Rushdie, Jonathan Safran Foer … and they share the characteristics of all well known bad writers: relevance, imitation, fakery, pseudo profundity

E ---But I have  been reading a little and that is what I wanted to report.

And I will be reading for a long time: PARALLEL STORIES by PETER NADAS.  The bound galleys are more than 1100 pages and require the greatest possible concentration and so far each chapter opens another story and all the while I am aware that parallel lines do not meet except in the highest math… 

--- Finally a book that might nudge over ULYSSES though so far I have not found the classical allusions that stalk Joyce’s book to either a reader’s distraction or delight.

---When PARALLEL STORIES is published in November read carefully the reviews and see who is faking their reading of this book, who has skimmed it, who has copied from the publicity and if you think this won’t happen you should read  FIRE THE BASTARDS by Jack Green (Dalkey Archive) a book that shows exactly how far too many reviewers did not read William Gaddis’s THE RECOGNITIONS and even when copying  the publicity for it could not get that straight.  I have also heard that one of the straws upon the back of David Foster Wallace was his sure knowledge that many of those who had praised his INFINITE JEST had not read it and he well knew Samuel Johnson’s remark, it is better to praise than to read.

---I can only begin to hint at my own reading of PARALLEL STORIES by quoting the chapter title, “Everyone in Their Own Darkness”, as a possible way into the originality of the narrative but remembering as I discovered a quote I had inserted into my ST. PATRICK’S DAY Dublin 1974, “not to put too fine a print on it, Tolstoy did not believe in people.  The more closely his read characters…are examined, the clearer it becomes that the celebrated moralist was a determinist, a materialist, a behaviorist.  Although his eye for surface variations was so wonderfully acute that there is not a character in all his output who is not apparently unique, all are nothing but flesh, and all flesh is grass.  The flesh may lead to despair, but it is the only form in which fiction can so amply clothe itself…” 

---when I wrote about Nadas’s BOOK OF MEMORIES I mentioned the startling physicality of his characters, how their words were enshrined in a flesh that has so rarely been described and the same must be said for PARALLEL STORIES:  never have I read a description of male body hair to compare…but not in the service of pornography, to be sure…

--- the books of Nadas along with those of Roberto Calasso and the pleasure they give to me as a reader are reasons enough to want to survive this operation… I cannot escape the fact of writing before an operation is inevitably a before and the awaited after looms… Nadas well understands the need for such a sentence as he has also written a painful book about his own heart attack OWN DEATH, but has the mind to distance himself from this by publishing his text midst hundreds of photographs of the same tree on his property as that tree changes with the season…

--- which leads, again, to my assertion that T.S. Eliot’s THE WASTE LAND is the only poem in English to survive the 20^th Century for:  April is the cruelest month

F ---I am also more grimly aware than ever before of the dire fate of the book.  The number of book shelves continues to shrink at St. Marks Bookstore and at the Strand more and more space is given over to non-book items and now the store is just a tourist destination to buy things with the STRAND name on them.  Of course they cannot compete with the used books at Amazon, but what is sadder is that for those of us who walk in the city, there are now fewer and fewer places to walk to… the boulevardier of Baudelaire has now lost his purpose, there is no longer a place for him… even in New York City.

G ---Blogs are an end in themselves, a constant item of frustration and isolation…they really mean that we are now approaching total atomization.. there are no longer public places where one gets together to talk…  one thinks of the great and famous pubs, bars, cafes… all gone no matter where you look in thr world.. all turned into tourist sites with fading pictures of authors… authors of books no one reads.. I am told Beckett’s picture is all over Dublin and it was in the airport in Dublin 20 years ago even, welcoming people to Ireland, to a country that hates its writers and makes a mockery of them by turning them into employees of the state, receiving monthly payments to make sure they never write anything of real significance… remember that was the purpose of the writers unions in the socialist countries:  give the writers so many perks, so many benefits that they would write less and less or they would writer more and more insignificant poetry… nearly every poet you can think of in Ireland now has a collected volume of more than 600 pages in length…  so those monthly checks coming from Aosdana buy the compliant silence and in the US the silence is bought with tenure from colleges and universities where the function of these writers is to turn out more writers who in turn will…

H---the most mysterious book this time around is FROM THE OBSERVATORY (Archipelago)  by Julio Cortazar combining prose and photographs by Cortazar himself of an observatory built in Jaipur by an Indian prince.  I have long been awaiting this English version as I picked up a long time ago in Paris the French version which is far grander with the photographs bled to the edge of the page and some pictures spread over two pages.  The American version is little meaner: the photographs are isolated by wide white frames, diminished in a way, as I do think we are supposed to be swept somewhere by the photographs, swept away from the determinism of the science that is discussed about the habits of eels, but the fragmented text, hallucinated in its rebellion: “that the redheaded night should see us walking with our face to the breeze, favoring the apparition of dream and insomnia figures, that one hand should slowly slip down naked back until coaxing out the moan of love…

---but I am willing to go most anywhere with Cortazar whose HOPSCOTCH, ever young, ever youthful, ever a model for what can be and what is no longer, and happily ARCHIPELAGO also has Cortazar’s  AUTONAUTS OF THE COSMOROUTE, the THE THE perfect book to buy before setting out on any long car trip, as that is what it is, a report on a car trip between Paris and Marseilles, where the rest stops, the accidents of the road become the… I like the dailyness of it, the photographs, the drawings, the accidents, the sadness that both Cortazar and his companion are both dead, this is a perfect memorial, but telling anyone who can read that it is what you are doing right now is of interest, if only you step back, one tiny step…

---I am not prepared to forget that Cortazar had the most repulsive activist political beliefs:  every murderous leftist regime drew his support  but in so much of his writing this did not contaminate his imagination, so in the way that we have learned to read Pound or Celine…

J--- HELDENPLATZ, by Thomas Bernhard (Oberon)  Bernhard’s last play.  A professor has returned to Vienna from Oxford and thrown himself out of the window…realizing  Austria today is no different than it was in 1930s when the Viennese quite happily cheered Hitler and to this day are little changed… familiar to readers of Bernhard but still as fresh as, and the surviving brother of the suicide is saying, “so you won’t think/I’m dead already which I am not on the contrary/the body is finished but the head is newborn/every day/ that’s a terrible situation…

---there is a very funny exchange between two of the servants of the suicided professor talking of his views of his children:  Suddenly one day you discover your own children/are non-humans he said/we think we are raising human beings/and then  they’re just carnivorous cretins/hysterics megalomaniacs  chaotic

---and how we are inflicted upon by actors, actresses, rock stars, do-gooders of every sort:  the whole world nothing but cynicism/megalomaniac actors/ abusing the Sahel-region/perverse Caritas directors/flying first class to Eritrea/posing with starving people/for the world press

---or as any thoughtful person knows every morning should begin with the New York Post and not the New York Times:  The so-called quality papers have always been boring/What we seek in the newspapers/is precisely the scum/I don’t need newspapers as my daily intellectual diet/it’s the absolute primitiveness of the Austrian  gutter press/ that I need every morning/I admit I would rather steep myself in that filth / than in the tasteless culture section of the Frankfurter Allgemeine (New York Times, right!) 

K ---   a few more books  that I have been reading and which increasingly look to being over-looked:

…BARLEY PATCH by Gerald Murnane.  Some of us discovered Murnane a long time ago when Braziller published THE PLAINS, and discovered finally an Australian writer of prose that could be read… but with the BARLEY PATCH Murnane  becomes a world class writer, someone who does fit into Dalkey Archive’s list with me, with Goytisolo, with Roa Bastos, with Lezama Lima… yeah ,and I threw in my own books because I forget that is my claim upon you my few readers and I wanted you to know the context of my books… along with Claude Simon, Robert Pinget, Andrei Bitov.

…Murnane prefaces BARLEY PATCH with a quote from Kerouac’s Doctor Sax--- just in that gesture alone shows we are dealing with a writer of a genuine independent spirit:  The Turf was so complicated it went on forever.”

…the first line of the book is: Must I write?  The second section a few pages later begins: Why had I written?  TO PUBLISHED SEPTEMBER 20, 2011

L--- WERT AND THE LIFE WITHOUT END by Claude Ollier (Dalkey Archive).  I asked to review this for the LA TIMES and still might be given the chance but who knows… set within the mind of a soldier who has survived…” Stricken for life, shut away inside themselves, emptied, surrounded by paleness, place shadows, such is the fate of the living who must still live.”

…”All outbursts, fits of temper, and screams banished, permanent silence reigns, a great respect for others, here the meeting  place of the silent ones, the taciturn, the discreet.

In recent years I have had many students who have been in the terrible wars the US has been engaged in for the last 20 years.  In some of these classes the students get a chance to read STORM OF STEEL by Ernst Junger and discover that they are not alone… they see through the tawdriness of  the well meaning  writing that is cranked out attempting to describe their experiences but once they have read Junger they discover a context, they are not alone.. they are not…

M ---the best memoir books for the Fall: THE LETTERS OF T.S. ELIOT Volume i and Volume 2, far more interesting than any book written about Eliot.

N--- ST. PATRICK'S DAY Dublin 1974

AFTER  for a while, until discouraged by technology failure I was trying to scan ST PATRICK’S DAY Dublin 1974 so as to make it possible to be read in out new world.  Here is the opening

That spring I was staying at The Russell in the cheapest or as I have been taught to say, the most reasonable available room. The ones in the pubs think I'm loaded and they are almost right:  I am loaded but not always with money and there have been too many times or not enough of those times to put me at perfect ease with the idea of always being loaded and so what? When?  I have sat before the fire in the lobby of the hotel, a cold glass of Carlsberg in hand, realizing a lot of other sons have done and are doing at this moment what I am doing: drinking and travelling out the patrimony, a gift in my case, from all the years of my father's fear of doing anything which would endanger his retirement.

After forty-nine years of work at the American Can Company he survived only two years of doing as he put it: nothing.

Died, he did, alone in a parking lot with strangers looking on at his performance.

I, the son, will have gone through the small sum of money in less than a year.  There is no revealing the exact sum because money together with sex, religion and politics are all things the son was taught not to talk about with strangers because one never knew.

The future holds only watching each and every dollar spent

FROM HERE TO HERE: aspects of a self-portrait

Irish Writers Online asked for a link in which I can write something of how one got from there to here or here to there or there to there or here to here.

1--- In my last year of high school  I saw a blonde girl in the second floor of the school  taking something out of her school locker.  I did not talk to her.  I learned her name: Melinda. I wrote a story set during World War One in which a man dies.  In the second story, from the viewpoint of Melinda, she is waiting for a man who doesn’t come home from war. Years later I discovered that the boy had died on Melinda’s birthday, something I did not know at the time of writing.

2--- I was now a writer when Al Willis published both stories in the student newspaper.

3--- Two books have seen their way into print via Dalkey Archive: THE CORPSE DREAM OF N. PETKOV and GOING TO PATCHOGUE.

4--- A conversation in Grogan’s Castle Lounge about Ralph Cusack and his novel CADENZA remembered from back many years and called to mind when Gilbert Sorrentino mentioned in an article in The New York Times that he was going to re-read CADENZA that summer.  I wrote to him care of his publisher that I was editing and publishing ADRIFT, the first and still only magazine which announced itself as ADRIFT    WRITINGS: IRISH, IRISH AMERICAN AND.  He suggested I get in touch with John O’Brien who was starting the Review of Contemporary Fiction with an issue devoted to Sorrentino’s  work…  over the years I wrote for the review and discussed the first lists of what would become DALKEY ARCHIVE  which was founded to reprint books that were out of print but still of great value starting with CADENZA in that first list… and from there to original books of which THE CORPSE DREAM OF N. PETKOV was one of the first and then GOING TO PATCHOGUE appeared a few years later and even went to a second printing, being reviewed across the country. 

4--- ADRIFT   WRITINGS: IRISH, IRISH AMERICAN AND had the ambition and the realized it of publishing all the major writers who happened to identify themselves in some way as Irish, centered upon Francis Stuart and James Liddy, both of whom remain as constant though shaded centers of what came after Joyce and Beckett.  I had poems from both Thomas Kinsella and John Montague that arrived too late.  Aidan Higgins and Desmond Hogan were beyond my reach.   Francis Stuart identified two essential points for readers and writers: opposition to the soft center of Irish writing, the knitting, that seems to have expanded beyond his worst forebodings and the writer, as did Stuart going to Berlin in 1939, has the duty to seek out the place of the greatest moral ambiguity.  Liddy in his long productive years created  a body of visionary poetry unequaled by any other Irish poet, rooted in the felt experience of the real world, twisted by grace and a love of boy angels, he liberated more space for individual freedom than all the politicians and revolutionaries in Ireland’s  splattered history

5--- THE CORPSE DREAM OF N.PETKOV has been reviewed by Andrei Codrescu in The New York Times with glowing knowledgeable praise.  I discovered that the so-called major publishers were happy for me and agents were also but as one honestly said, I can’t eat lunch off of you and that is the only thing that matters… At that time the agent was eating off of Paul Auster.

5---  While I was writing GOING TO PATCHOGUE I was also writing ST.PATRICK’S DAY, Dublin 1974 and pieces of it appeared in The Gorey Detail and in the Review of Contemporary Fiction.  The manuscript was marked up for typesetting by Steve Moore who was then the second in command at Dalkey Archive but it did not appear in print.  For some reason and it was never really clear in spite  of the evidence of this marked up manuscript why John O’Brien  turned against publishing the book, but that is what happened.  Simple as that.  We have written back and forth but as is said something happened and now it is beyond… even Steve Moore confirmed these details: something…

5--- ST PATRICK’S DAY, Dublin 1974 is just that:  a walking around on that day beginning in a room in The Russell Hotel with a man looking down at the end or the beginning of the parade… he walks out to the pubs and walks through all the years of his life in Dublin beginning, 1964, in a little club behind a chip shop diagonal to the hotel ... with a long excursion to Bulgaria… he goes to the memorial reading for Patrick Kavanagh where John Jordan attempts to read a memorial address… and on to life in the Corn Exchange Building and on to … the first long book about actually being in Dublin since ULYSSES. 

5--- Nuala Ni Dhomhnaill was a great champion of ST PATRICK’S DAY Dublin, 1974 offering  to write an introduction in addition to the blurb she wrote but the gang at Lilliput rejected it, out of hand since I was not prepared to pay them to publish it  (one of the secrets of then publishing in Ireland) (Alice Quinn lost the manuscript at Alfred A. Knopf: a sweet woman who went on to being poetry editor of The NEW YORKER)…so the book lingers on and on…

6--- More books… FORGET THE FUTURE  another travel book.. summer in England, 1990  the hottest summer on record.. war getting ready to happen in Kuwait… the life of James Thomson BV...the how to write about a dead poet, THE CITY OF DREADFUL NIGHT, without the fakery of re-creation yet at the same  time entering his head… a long section when the drunken Thomson assaults the blind poet Marston appeared in BOMB  thanks to David Rattray… and another section in another magazine… but again…  there was a voyage midst the book to Bulgaria during the time of the City of Truth… but the narrator is going a little mad

7--- FRIDAY SATURDAY SUNDAY With a Little Bit of Monday.. in Dublin 1999, a man goes over from London to die again in Dublin, he thinks… visiting with the Irish poet N Ni… visiting with Barbara… “A Painful Case”…  who knew him in Dublin in 1964.. but also a memorial to a marriage sunk by a wife who decided her feeling had changed, that she wanted to grow spiritually and she was now comparing her husband and the soon to be former husband to the UPS driver…  the husband’s life with the young children... remembered what had been in the now increasingly wealthy streets of Dublin.. marked by imagined tombs for all the dead of years gone by

8--- LOSS OF DIGNITY… the falling in love.. there has to be a book to be published posthumously... and this is it… not a nice book, a book about lust, nastiness, meanness… within the narrator’s mind

9--- now to:  JUST LIKE THAT A Book From the So-called 60s: A Beginning and  THE END.. a university student over from Dublin, Spring 1965, is in bed with another man who asks in Leipzig in the DDR, Are you Jewish?…  while traveling in the DDR.. all the themes of the so-called 60s are revealed at their beginnings: conflicted  sexual experimentation, intoxication,  the war in Vietnam HANDS OFF VIETNAM... the division of the world… paranoia reflected in the shiny stocks of the MK47s, while the second half of the book is about how those 60s ended on the Upper West Side of Manhattan in the early 70s, presided over by the talk of Anthony Burgess, imitations  of Charles Manson,  the dead end of Sullivanian sex and the death of the Father and the birth of the man as an adult… both the ending and the beginning sections were published by Barbara Probst Solomon in THE READING ROOM… but as is the fate of most writings in little magazines…

10--- Richard Seaver, Daniel Halpern, , FSG, Knopf,  WW Norton, Dalkey Archive decided  they couldn’t afford to do  JUST LIKE THAT…  the vast sums of money… or maybe they just didn’t like it… though they regretted their decisions and said they admired the prose and the ambition

11--- NOTHING DOING. A man has fallen in love with the Arizona desert and goes looking for a place to be buried… he goes with the stories.. .of a Bulgarian exiled psychoanalyst arriving in the US with only a suitcase of ties, with a Marine veteran who becomes a priest and is accused of molesting boys, yet…there is the doubt.. and American man wakes up in Paris to find his wife saying, I am going to kill our son and ruin your life…and an old man in Douglas, Arizona  teases out the last bits of his life after leaving  New York for the Gadsden Hotel…

12---NOTHING DOING could be seen as a long commentary on Samuel Beckett’s answer to John Montague’s question toward the end of Beckett’s life:

And the arrangements?

In the ground.

1313--- At the moment , being written:  EXIT IS FINAL.. a journey around Bulgaria and why the narrator wants to be living in Strashiza, since it is as beautiful  as Venice or any other obvious place you might mention… the book was to have gone to Estonia but that seems unlikely because in Bulgaria the narrator comes upon the remains of forgotten children who might have been…

131313--- Three other books:    JUST ENOUGH, strangers on the train starting in the 55 Bar on Christopher Street in NYC to a death at the feet of a statue of the Sacred Heart at Bleecker and Bowery.

                                                       THE PLASTIC SLAUGHTERHOUSE begun in Sofia in the winter of 1967/68 and finished in Normandy at Easter of 1968.

                                                                EMPTY AMERICAN LETTERS a long document of my life as foot messenger for almost 25 years in New York City, all in lieu of those portraits of Abe Lincoln.

14--- I have also written introductions to AVARICE HOUSE BY Julien Green, to ANATHEMAS AND ADMIRATIONS by  E.M. CIORAN  published by Quartet in London    and an afterword to SEASON AT COOLE by Michael Stephens published by Dalkey Archive.

  

15--- I have written for The Guardian, for Newsday, for the Washingto  Post, the Chicago Tribune the Los Angeles Times…  There is a good article on comparing Graceland and Rowan Oak.  There is a disturbing profile of Allen Ginsberg…

1515---  THE VILLAGE VOICE in New York City when it was a real weekly newspaper published two stories of mine: “Goodbye W.H. Auden” which was about the poet leaving his apartment on St Mark’s Place, about his lice powder, about the fucking that happened afterward.  Appearing on the front page I was famous for a week meeting as a result John Lennon who had to give me money--- prompted by Yoko Ono--- to buy beer for the party which was defending the right of the Hell’s Angels and listening to Ed Sanders who was just back from writing THE FAMILY and discovering that the latest kink among the Hollywood movie stars was fucking actual corpses and that one should never forget that Manson had been one of those pet dogs which turned on his masters.  And a second story “A Son’s Father’s Day” in which I predicted that I would drink myself to death as would my father drink himself to death: dying as he did in a parking lot two years after the article appeared... I have postponed my own fate and won’t be going that way, at least for today

16---I did interview profiles of Julian Green, Nina Berberova, Julian Rios, , Carlos Fuentes, Tatyana Tolstoya… .Cees Nooteboom and Alain Robbe Grillet…also Harold Brodkey and Nelida Pinon 

17--- I have written many many book reviews, usually doing foreign writers, non-Americans… anything to flee the jacket of ethnicity…

18--- in mind I have interviewed Ernst Junger, Francis Stuart, Ezra Pound, Juan Carlos Onetti, Louis Ferdinand Celine, Julien Gracq, Gyorgy Ivanov, Ivan Turgenev, Herman Melville when he had stopped writing novels… Hannah Green, Jean Rhys, Uwe Johnson in his English exile, Thomas Bernhard, Miroslav Krleza, Joseph Roth in that café in Paris, Eugenio Montale in a billiard parlor in Milano and Giuseppi  Berto interrupted us as he came in with George Garrett who was saying this Cuban writer Jose Lezama Lima was asking for you in paradise.

ANOTHER MODEL BOOK SECTION: the best and

Here is an example of what a typical issue of a book section of a newspaper or magazine or whatever you want to call it should contain in this last week of May, 2011.  It is seriously lacking  in books dealing with aspects of the various physical sciences and mathematics.

15- reviews

16- announcements

  17- just  telling

 18- selecting

 19- sheer freedom of it all

 20- but as one man, with no gold in the pocket, so can’t commission a few paragraphs about what I am going to list

21- would people like to follow up with little paragraphs

22- last week before Memorial  Day weekend

(have myself been laid up)

23- Summer reading suggestions are always crap…

24- The cover announcement--- if this was a review section relic---:: two more volumes of Paul Valery’s CAHIERS/NOTEBOOKS ( 4,5) are now available from Peter Lang. 

25- I do guarantee you not a single newspaper, not even the TLS has written about this.  1300 more pages of Valery available in English joining the 1800 pages previously translated.  Of course everyone thinks…who knows if they do or not… but the prose is more accessible than the poetry in many ways  so for those who live within the fortress of American English… skeptical of all translation after reading a very disturbing book by Jordan Stump, THE OTHER BOOK, which while not really in any way an attack on the idea of translation does  fit into my head a very real impediment when thinking about all the translated books I have read or will read… but I have the feeling Stump didn’t intend this though I know it is a real issue  and most people are skeptical of translations…

26- Anyway:  Paul Valery: 

27- Of death and the afterlife.     — Scarcely any though has been given to the afterlife, of a dog or a hen.  It’s dead it’s dead.  And yet the dog was trained, he had a memory and a kind of intelligence and an education. By common consent the dog’s memory is allowed to perish but not a man’s. 

29- The superiority of  man is due to his useless thoughts.  

30-The age of why. Children ask, “why?” So we send them to school which cures them of this instinct and conquers curiosity with boredom.

31-Could have picked a hundred more:  the sections in these volumes: language, bios, mathematics, science, time, homo, history-politics, education, system, philosophy, consciousness, theta…

32- Just that listing shows the range:  why I am reluctant to even contemplate reading an American writer,,,

33-THE OTHER BOOK by Jordan Stump. University of Nebraska Press.  A description of different versions of Raymond Queneau’s  Le Chiendent: a copy, the manuscript, a translation, a critical edition.  The same translation existing with two titles, two publishers but same translator, Barbara Wright… Either:  Witch Grass or The Bark Tree. 

34- Stump discusses a few of the sentences Wright just did not translate.  Nothing seems to have been lost, nothing has been gained.  The sentence just did not get into English and as a result you can begin to see the problems or as the subtitle has it “Bewildermets of Fiction.” 

35- So when I read The Bark Tree and when I am thinking about reading the Witch Grass… am I reading Raymond Queneau’s Le Chiendent?

36- That question becomes the impediment.  One understands why publishers hide even for a writer like W G Sebald the fact that Austerlitz was a translation… was something missing from the dust jacket of the hardcover edition.  If it had said on the dust jacket that would have been a discouragement in the view of the chain stores… and Random House wanted to protect its investment: translation hurts that investment.

37- ROBERTO BOLANO   is at the moment really part of the imagination of Americans who read… I won’t list all the little books that New Directions published that established him and upon which Farrar Straus & Giroux was able to launch his two “big” book THE SAVAGE DETECTIVES and 2066. 

38-Of the New Directions books I like NAZI LITERATURE IN AMERICA the best.  Because of the great success of all of these books by Bolano we are now at toward the end of his works and in no way is there a falling off:  BETWEEN PARENTHESES a large collection of his essays, articles and speeches deserves more than a glancing read:  I was taken by a tiny review of two books, Experience by Martin Amis and My Dark Places by James Ellroy:  “Amis’s book ends with children.  It ends with peace and love.  Ellroy’s book ends with tears and shit.  It ends with a man alone, standing tall.  It ends with blood.  In other words, it never ends.”

39- I wanted very much,  I wanted and hoped  A THOUSAND DARKNESSES by Ruth Franklin was going to be something more than a collection of reprinted revised essays that  had appeared in magazines.  That it is still mostly is rather sad.  I had wanted her to begin the nudging over of Roberto Calasso--- there is a hint that maybe she is of that fine a sensibility--- who sits in my mind as the best literary critic writing today.  The adjective literary seems not to do justice, and the word critic seems to need some sort of adjective and  I cannot tell you why.  Calasso of course ranges across the world and while he has not yet gotten to China I can imagine in his old age, China is his destination. 

40-Ruth Franklin’s book is a collection of essay about books about the Holocaust.  She divides the book into witnesses and Those Who Came after which concludes with an ominous phrase:  The Third Generation.  Of course living in New York City we know all about survivors, then the children of survivors and now we have the grandchildren on and on into…  Individually each essay is fine enough, a book is reviewed the author’s whole career is rehashed and on to the next one.  But that is all the book is.  I wanted for Franklin to have maybe forgotten those original reviews, called up what remained from them in her own memory and now to see what remains… at  the end of the book, she is reduced to writing about a kid’s book by Tony Kushner and Maurice Sendak, BRUNDIBAR.  She ends with one of those near impenetrably vague but probably profound lines by Elie Wiesel, ”’A novel about Auschwitz is not a novel, or else it is not about Auschwitz.”  For a novel about Auschwitz can never only be a novel about Auschwitz: it is a novel also about Armenia, about Siberia, about Cambodia, about Bosnia, about Darfur, “Though I go, I won’t go far…I’ll be back. Love. Brundibar.”    

41- That is a line which either Franklin will soon realize is a line to be embarrassed about or a line to be ruthlessly subjected to thinking and to an understand that such lines have nothing to do with the putting words on a page… and while she writes wonderfully about Imre Kertesz she might have learned that such a line is not worthy of her intelligence.

42- One reason to read criticism to find out more about authors we have liked and in particular about books of theirs that have not been translated.  I have read everything that is available in English by Michel Leiris…

43- I am sure my readers know who Leiris is:  MANHOOD, RULES OF THE GAME… one of those singular French writers who shaped much of one aspect of my mind… JOHN CULBERT in PARALYSES writes about Michel Leiris’s travel book, though that is such an approximation as to be almost insulting, about his report on a ethnographic voyage into Africa called L’Afrique fantome… why no one has translated this book is beyond me.  As well written as any of Leiris’s books I have been assured by those who have read it in French and about a part of the world that is so poorly represented in world literature and in the world’s imagination and to have a book written by a writer like Leiris…  just beyond my simple comprehension…  Culbert makes this book temporarily available as I am reading his description of L’Afrique fantom.

44-University of Nebraska has a very good line of history books devoted to the West of the United States.  THE JOAQUIN BAND by Lori Lee Wilson is no exception to this.  Telling the complex story of an early outlaw band lead by Joaquin Murrieta which operated in California during the time of the Gold Rush leads her deep into the our now much more complex understanding of the West and much of our current understanding of the complexity is due to of course a refined interest in how many different groups, interests etc.  were involved. 

45- Usually the movies are accused of catering to a narrow stereotyped view of the West but as those who have actually seen a great number of Westerns well know this is not the case.  TV might have presented an often simple minded view of the West but the actual movies were always much more interesting and a very good book along those lines was recently out from YALE  HOLLYWOOD WESTERNS AND AMERICAN MYTH by Robert B. Pippin.. and once I got beyond the horde of people he owes debts to and the fact that he seemed to have had every breath of his life subsidized by some academic slush fund or another Pippen has actually written a fine book, fine in that he has actually watched for instance THE MAN WHO SHOT LIBERTY VALANCE and THE SEARCHERS and saw how in so many ways these are genuine American masterpieces that like each new reading King Lear reveals something new.. and as a result remain ever new…

46- But THE JOAQUIN BAND invites the reader into the heart of the complexity of what actually did happen… she provides, guides but ultimately allows the reader to try to make sense of the material…  the complex story of robbery, murder, hangings, lynchings, prejudice and hatred on all sides… this withholding is a genuine departure from most history writing, where the author is so concerned with sorting out and revealing THE truth that error always has to creep in when the final verdict comes down from the authorial high. 

47- But do not think this is some dry theoretical academic exercise in linguistic torture:    “One of his (newspaper) staff members covered the hangings.   The young fugitive “ spoke a few words asking for forgiveness and confessing that he had committed crimes.”  He died hard because his hands had not been tied lightly due to his wrist wound.  His good hand instinctively yanked free and grabbed the noose. For ten minutes he struggled. Finally the executioner stepped forward and pried his hand out of the noose so that he could expire.

48- THE LAND AT THE END OF THE WORLD  by Antonio Lobo Antunes…   W.W. NORTON is finally making available in a newly translated version and one only has to compare the new version to the one published so confidently many years ago by Random House as being shocking, revelatory of the terrible wars in the Portuguese colonies in Africa…  modeled  I am sure on Albert Camus’ THE FALL, a man is telling of his experiences as a  doctor in these wars…with the new version the book grows, longer, more complex and one has a real sense of what Antunes was all about….

49- Again the problem of translation.  Which book today published in translation and well received is going to be revealed as being only half done and that half done poorly done… 

50- I had reviewed a later book by Antunes which of course makes me grateful this new version of his first book as it goes some distance to explain the style of Antunes and that he did not evolve from a rather ordinary realistic writer of short declarative sentences as that first incompetent version had allowed for…

http://articles.latimes.com/2003/jan/26/books/bk-mcgonigle26

51- Never do reviewers or writers ever admit defeat or failure or incompetence or inability but I stand before you in all of those aspects of shame when trying to describe the experience of attempting to read: IMPRESSIONS OF AFRICA by  Raymond Roussel and NEW IMPRESSIONS OF AFRICA by Raymond Roussel

52- The IMPRESSIONS OF AFRICA is translated by Mark Polzzotti and looks and is surely prose.   Polizzotti quotes Harry Mathews as saying that Roussel’s language taught him how “writing could provide me with the means of so radically outwitting myself that I could bring my hidden experience, my unadmitted self into view.”

53- The NEW IMPRESSIONS OF AFRICA is translated by Mark Ford and looks like poetry with the French on one side and the English on the other. The book is illustrated and one can see that the French poetry rhymes while the English does not.  John Ashbery says, “Poets especially will be in Mark Ford’s debt and it is a “valuable resource for contemporary English-speaking readers.”

54-Summer travel.

55- Well, as awful as any other time but good for any season:  ENGINEERS OF THE SOUL by Frank Westerman… the reader gets a chance to follow Westerman as he uses some books by Russian writers to visit the sites of some of great projects--- during which hundreds of thousands of men women and children were murdered--- that Stalin launched in the building of the communism or socialism in the Soviet Union  and guided by the books that a variety of communist writers wrote about these projects Westerman travels to see the consequences, walking in the footsteps of these engineers of the soul, which in itself is such a wonderful  knot of words within the atheist world of Soviet communism… such writers, Gorky, Babel, Pilynik, Paustovsky…

56-But for another version of travel: here fiction leads to a so-called non-fiction book.

57- As I mentioned in another post THE SLY COMPANY OF PEOPLE WHO CARE by Rahul Bhattacharya  from FSG was one of the nicest reads these past few months--- about a young man finding himself in and trying to get about in Guyana…well, that leads to the accident of a book Knopf sent over: WILD COAST ,Travels on South America’s Untamed Edge,  by John Gimlette who is one of those English writers, a lawyer in another life, who goes off to places, writes about them and people buy the books instead of going there and like Paul Theroux and a myriad of other travel writers.. one always wonders how it happens… how these writers like the magnet and iron filings…the finding  of the characters, the weaving in of some history but all the interesting stuff, not the boring stuff and then how do they remember all of this stuff?

58- I open the book see the photograps--- the little collage as film script---: Devil’s Island, then the Dutch part with strange murders, the Guyana bit with Jim Jones…

59- But will I go on with the reading?...  A Bulgarian friend, a writer was saying to me once that he was astonished that I or anyone in the US would be interested in Bulgaria!

60- One of those comments, said probably just in passing but it does contain  the nub of the whole matter: how do we become interested in places, the other place, one’s own place…

61- So toward the end

62- As there is no real end and within theto be continued: DARK DESIRES AND THE OTHERS by Luisa Valenzuela.  She was an early Dalkey Archive author with HE WHO SEARCHES while being published by the so-called big publishers who now in the present moment have allowed all her books to go out of print.  This new book which set out to describe through indirection the ten years she lived in New York City, a woman with no city other than academic appointments.. on the speech making circuit and gradually fading away so I was surprised by this book appearing… for all these years I have read a short story of hers with students THE VERB TO KILL and it continues to be of interest, all those readings, good bad ,indifferent ,required have not dulled the story…

63- DARK DESIRES AND THE OTHERS is neither journal nor collection of essays but more a pile of paragraphs some connected, others  just that, a paragraph followed by another paragraph.. notebooks are indicated by cover color, with the possible echo of Kafka… but ten years of a person’s life.  I might be the only person who can say: I want my paragraphs to be so published…

64- How to decide if you want to be inside the mind of LV:

A== and working alongside international  human-rights organizations

B==The Guggenheim grant that I’ve always dreamed of and have now pocketed is burning a hole in my pocket

C== Badly written notebooks, like the result of someone “getting rid of lice,”as Cortazar put it

D==  writer in residence at the Center for Inter-American Relations, at NYU and Columbia

E== I confess that I have lives, said the other; I confess that I have fucked.  I say and what luck.  The odor coming to me now from between my legs is mixed, it is my gift and the other’s too, rather acrid, sharp, not entirely pleasant, but the best you can ask for on this earth.

So much sperm!  I love it when I go to the bathroom and I loosen my muscles and it comes out of me as if it was mine.  A white gush, something with a life of it own.  Though not all of them give it to me.  And not all of them have so much.  But this one does,,.

65- And truly to be continued:::::  THE SEAMSTRESS AND THE WIND  by Cesar Aira.

66-Again, startled by,”.. (Aira is)one of the most prolific writers in Argentina having published  more than eighty books.

67- Another way to try to close:  shall we proclaim this THE SUMMER OF DAVID STACTON as the New York Review Books is issuing his THE JUDGES OF THE SECRET COURT which is centered upon the assassination of Abraham Lincoln by John Wilkes Booth who was the brother of then much more famous Edwin Booth who was considered by many of the time as the greatest actor alive and in particular for his performance as Hamlet.

68- David Stacton (1923-68) was a prolific novelist given to writing novels usually based within history.  When you look at old issues of book reviews his name is a constant presence  and then he died.  He wrote novels set in feudal Japan ancient Egypt, Europe during the 30 Years war, and he wrote genre westerns, mysteries and even soft-core gay porn… 

69- Who could resist a novel such as THE JUDGES OF THE SECRET COURT where the last page reads:  It was Julia Ward Howe who once asked Charles Sumner if he had  heard of young Booth yet.“Why no, Madam,” said Sumner, I long since ceased to take any interest in individuals.” “You have made great progress, sir,” Julia told him.  “God has not yet gone so far---at least according to the last accounts.”  Tucson November 1959- April 1960

70- I was thinking the New York Review Books  is dedicated to making available the background to the literary history of the United States of the late Twentieth Century which could be said to have two mountain peaks: Saul Bellow on one hand and on the other, Jack Kerouac and off to himself William Gaddis.  Of course I am disregarding Faulkner, Hemingway and Dos Passos but they are there in the moment before what we call the late Twentieth Century…  all the other scribblers find themselves in the shade or shadow or sunbeam or moonbeam of these guys.

71- THE BIRTH OF DEATH AND OTHER COMEDIES The Novels of Russell H. Greenan by TOM WHALEN.  From Dalkey Archive.  While it probably helps to have read the novels of Russell Greenan---IT HAPPENED IN BOSTON, THE SECRET LIFE OF ALGERNON PENDELTON, THE BRIC-A-BAC MAN, among others---  Whalen’s book is an introduction to an American writer who probably few have read though all his books were well published, well reviewed and continue to remain in print in France where a few of his books have appeared even though they are not available in their original English versions… you might think of Whalen’s book as an invitation to read the books of Greenan’s as he makes them into compelling temptations… but of course you wonder who, who.  Well, www.tomwhalen.com takes care of the author and I’d suggest reading any of the available essays if you want to know why this book is to be read but more importantly you might want to read the fiction and then the poetry and  while you can see the hundreds of stories, poems and their publication information it continues to be one of those dreary and typical mysteries: why… start with the story End of Term.”  This is for one of Whalen’s best stories and captures perfectly the impossibility of the teaching profession…

72- So that is a good way to end: go to www.tomwhalen.com and report back to me what you have discovered.  You don’t have to write a thousand word essay.

On into the future:  PARALLEL STORIES by PETER NADAS. THE DEVIL’S CAPTAIN Ernst Junger in Nazi Paris 1941-1944 by Allan Mitchell. HAMLET OR HECUBA by Carl Schmitt. FROM THE OBSERVATORY by JULIO CORTAZAR