Category: #books

  • Personal Review: “First Love” by Gwendoline Riley

    For the life of me, I don’t remember who or what recommended First Love to me. It was on a list of books that I should read, and when I found a copy of it at the Strand, I picked it up without a second thought, nor having any idea what I was about to get myself into. To be honest, I appreciate the joy and excitement that comes from reading a book that I know nothing about, by an author I also know nothing about, because it does afford me the ability to truly experience a work without any preconceived notions. In this situation, I didn’t even read the description on the back of the book.

    First Love isn’t about the “happy” side of love. It’s not about the joy, fulfillment, or really any of the positive side of love. Oh, now and then, that side of love does show up, but on the whole, that’s not what this novel wants to explore. For the protagonist Neve, she shares with us all of people that she first experienced a form of “love” with; her mother, her father, a boyfriend, and her husband. Each relationship is troubled, difficult, in some cases even toxic, and they all overlap on each other, influencing each relationship from actions that happened in the past, and fears of what might happen in the future. For this reason, it is not a traditional novel, and time and events shift – nothing is linear here, but it adds greatly to the theme of these loves bumping and conflicting with each other.

    I found myself thinking about the works of Rachel Cusk and Maggie Nelson as I read this book. Riley’s novel tackles a serious subject, but the narrative never becomes weighed down, as it feels like a conversation. As such, this book was akin to the Outline Trilogy, and the examination in Bluets. It felt very internal, that we were being let in to very personal thoughts and exanimations. I will say that though First Love is a new form novel, like Outline, Riley did have a more traditional climax here, which gave the novel a satisfying conclusion.

    When I read a book like First Love, I am rather envious of writers like Gwendoline Riley, who create drama and self-examining characters, while never making their stories so personal that it becomes dull of whiney. It’s a bit of a magic trick, that is fun to experience. Thank you, to what, or whomever put this book on my reading list.

  • Artist Books

    Over Winter Break, our little family went to the Museum of Modern Art here in Manhattan. Part of the reason to go was to kill an afternoon, but also the kid really is loving her art class at school. They were studying Picasso before the break, and she remembered that MoMA has several of his very famous paintings, and was excited about seeing them. For the wife, she hadn’t been out in the City in a while, you know, to actually enjoy this place – so she was hip on going. Me; I love going to museums – any museum: historical, art, kid, whimsical, yarn, whatever…

    So, up on the top floor, MoMA is holding a retrospective on Edward Ruscha. I was vaguely aware of his work, especially the gas station stuff, but I didn’t know a whole lot about the guy. Let me say this, if you are available, you should go check it out. His work covers several different mediums, and is a very interesting digestion of Post War America, and the growing of Pax Americana.

    Out of all his works, the one I was most drawn to were his artist’s books, the first being “Twentysix Gasoline Stations.” There was something to the simplicity of the work in the book, and the efficacy of the design on the whole. Ruscha went on do many other artists books, all keeping with the same design theme. What these books reminded me of was two things; gallery books my uncle would make, and other artist’s sketchbooks.

    I am aware that Ruscha’s artist books were not sketchbooks, but a complete work unto itself, but I have been to other artist’s shows were they make a single sketchbook into a work. Some of the most interesting I have seen, sadly I have forgotten names, were books that had cut out pictures from magazines and newspapers, or were a combination of text ant drawings/paintings.

    And then there are the gallery books that my uncle used to make. He was a painter/artist who spent time in New York in the late 50’s and 60’s and then relocated to Houston. When he had a show in a gallery, books would be printed for the event, but my uncle took extra time making these limited-edition books individual and unique. Some of the books he would personally swipe paint across the cover, and I think one he would rip the corner off of the first page, to make each book feel “used.”

    And for the past week, in the back of my head, I have this “artist book” idea-thing kicking around in my head. Not sure what to do with it. About six months ago I started farting around with the idea of making a limited run “zine” that would feature crayon drawings and poems with my kid, but that never materialized. (I think my daughter was never on board with the idea.) But I like the idea that writers should adopt artists books as part of their medium to work with. This would be more than a chapbook, as it would incorporate more visuals and play with format and style. For a writer not only works with words, but also the form that books can take, right?

    I’m going to play around with this some more. Even though I might just be describing chapbooks…

  • Post #1001

    Yesterday, I wrote my 1,000th blog post.

    When I started posting way back in 2017, I was a new father who was working a very stressful job, and I needed a creative outlet of some sort to keep me sane, and also to make me feel like I wasn’t giving up on me. The goal way back then was to write 250 words about a subject; any subject would do, just as long as I wrote 250 words.

    In that first year, I did a grand total of 11 posts.

    Followed by 105 posts in 2018.

    Then I backslid in 2019 with 67.

    But I came back in 2020 with 143 post. Sure, COVID and being unemployed played a big part in my increase in output.

    All in all, I have written 339,000+ words for this blog, and I have kept my sanity by being able to accomplish something each day. I like to think I am being creative still, and clearly a good number of you come by to read the short story reviews, which I appreciate.

    I also appreciate the solid core of early followers; all five of you – two of whom I do know personally – who took the time to read and like what I was doing.

    I didn’t know what I was doing when I started; I still don’t know what I’m doing, and I probably won’t know what I am doing when all is said and done.

    I am also aware that virtually no one will read this, and most likely I’m just talking to myself here. For that matter, I should rewrite my bio, and do a site redesign… I need new pictures, too.

    I don’t say this enough, but you should “like” my blog, and follow it. Also, you should leave comments, and click on the ads.

    While we’re at it, someone should offer me a job – writing reviews or editing at journal. To be honest, someone should publish my stories and offer me a book deal.

    But for the time being, I’m going back to reading some flash fiction (I’m really enjoying SmokeLong Quarterly currently) and crank out some new pieces.

  • Personal Review: KUDOS by Rachel Cusk

    (SPOLIERS, but I don’t think you can spoil this novel…)

    I’m a big fan of Rachel Cusk. Ever since I read a piece on her in The New Yorker a while ago, and I think the article was about the OUTLINE Trilogy, I have found her to be a huge inspiration and a fascinating author. She does a great job in fooling me in believing that we are close friends, and the conversations she shares with me, makes me feel smarter. Like all very talented writers, she’s also part magician – conjuring a relationship with the reader that never really existed, and making us feel that we are the only person she is talking to.

    I finished KUDOS, the final novel in the OUTLINE Trilogy last week. All in all, it took me the span of five years to read the three novels. I can understand how a person would argue that this delay in completing the series would be detrimental to my understanding, if not appreciation of the trilogy. Yet, I don’t believe it has. Returning to these books is like visiting an old friend from college. Things pick up right where they left off, no feeling of lost time. And this friend doesn’t try to guilt me for my absence.

    If one were to look up reviews for these books, almost all of them will make references to how these books are a new form, even an experimental version, of what an autobiographical novel can be. Some will even compare the books to Karl Ove Knausgaard’s My Struggle series, which might be applicable. I don’t agree with the comparison, as Karl is overtly autobiographical, while Rachel only hints at autobiography, but clearly has kept her protagonist a fictional version of herself.  Which lead me to start to believe that all the “new form of a novel” was more marketing hype than actual reality.

    Don’t get me wrong. I loved KUDOS, and the other books in the trilogy, OUTLINE and TRANSIT. As I settled in on reading this book, I found the familiar style that Cusk has; this very easy, yet highly intelligent way of writing. She doesn’t speak down to the reader, but it feels that I am being included in the conversations. This time around the author/protagonist is at a writers conference, talking to other writers and people. Again, the persons who occupy this world have no issue, and are very adept at opening up and sharing events, observations and experiences with her. At one point, another writer does point out how odd it is that all the characters in the author/protagonist’s novels have no problem confessing all their sins without much prompting – a sly mete joke Cusk put in her own novel.

    It’s true, people do not speak the way Cusk’s characters do. But, Tennessee Williams’ characters speak in a way that can only exist in the worlds that Williams creates, and as such, I believe that Cusk is casting that same spell. It’s not reality, but it is a world I would like to live in. To speak to a person on a plane about the family dog of theirs that just died, or the tour guide who loves to walk the city, or the other women writers that still have to deal with ex-husbands that intend to do them harm, both physically and emotionally. It’s an unburdening that has no expectations to it. The reader isn’t asked to act, or pass judgment, but just hear and witness that these lives exist. It’s an environment that becomes very comfortable, and enjoyable.

    And in the end, without a climax or even rising action, the book concludes, leaving the feeling of conclusion. That to me is the trick, and an impressive one at that. I have been given a journey, but I am not sure where I have gone, or what, if anything was accomplished. But I know I went some place, I learned, and that must be what is accomplished. And as I ponder on that, maybe it isn’t a gimmick to call these books a new form of novel. There is a different way to tell a story after all.

  • ODDS and ENDS: End of the Season, No Room, and 25-5

    (All This Can Be Yours…)

    Tottenham has two matches left to the season, and I think the best that they can do is 6th place. I predict that Spurs will lose to Brentford, and then end with a win against Leeds. There is still a chance that Tottenham will qualify for the Europa League, or the Europa Conference League next season, but being how tough the last several matches have been, they could burn out easily. I would like to see them win a trophy next season, any trophy. But all of that will depend on the next manager and if Harry Kane sticks around.

    I’m running out of room for books in my apartment. And, I have about nine file boxes in storage of more books that the wife and I have collected. I refuse to get rid of the books. That just feels like abandoning your child. Yet, I also feel compelled to go book shopping this weekend.

    I should get a move on, you know. I was able to write these first to sections of this post rather fast, and now, for the past hour I have been trying to come up with a third paragraph. Not sure why I hit this block all of a sudden. I started looking out the livingroom window, and everything just ground to a halt. I was thinking about the kid at school, and how close Summer is, and if we were going to be able to get a vacation up to Maine this year. (Rather late in the year, so I’m thinking not.) Just random idea after random idea, but nothing solid that would lend itself to a narrative. Has anyone heard of the 25 – 5-minute rule? You work for 25 minutes, and then give yourself a 5-minute break. It’s supposed to help you stay focused and not burn out. Huh?