Tag: Novel

  • 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.

  • 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.

  • Personal Review: Arcadia by Lauren Groff

    (Spoilers, I think. I’m writing this now, but it might change.)

    I got Arcadia as a Christmas gift back in 2015, and then never read it. I want to believe that I am normal in that regard; that I receive books as gifts, and then never get around to reading them… for like a decade. In my effort to catch up on my reading, I made the time for Laruen Groff’s book. As I am a fan of her short stories, I was looking forward to reading one of her novels.

    Arcadia is about a guy named Bit, and the novel follows him through his life; childhood, adolescents, and adulthood. Bit’s real name is Ridley, but when he is born to his hippie parents, he is a very small baby, and is nicknamed “Bit” because he is “Little Bit of a Hippie.” His parents are part of a hippie commune on a sprawling, but neglected, upstate New York estate, Arcadia, which the commune is in the process of repairing and repurposing. This is the first section of the book, and it establishes the dynamic between the community, leadership, and family life for Bit, and the community as a whole. The next section of the book deals with the Arcadia, and the second wave of people who want to join the commune. Here we find Bit in his adolescence, experiencing love and sex, and the pressures from his parents to behave and act in support of their desires and goals. Inevitable, all of this leads to the breakup of the commune, and Bit’s family escapes to New York City. And though there are several sections, the book moves into the third part, which is Bit’s adulthood, and the creation of his own family.

    I will say this, the first section does go on. It is laying the groundwork for this novel, and it does pay off in the end, but getting through it did feel taxing at times. What we are getting in this section is seeing this world through Bit’s eyes, and his not fully understanding what is happening. We see the dynamic between his parents, Abe and Hannah. We see Hannah’s bouts of depression, and her inability for a time to get out of bed. We also learn about Bit’s empathetic nature, his desire to care for others as he is taken in by the women who handle the childbirth in the commune. Arcadia is a magical world to Bit, yet Bit also thinks the whole world is like Arcadia. It’s an innocence that we know is doomed to conflict with reality eventually. This point is made with the end of the section as Abe falls off the roof of Arcadia house, breaking his back, and leaving him in a wheelchair. I respect the point that Groff was trying to make, but I didn’t like the way it was executed. Abe’s accident is treated like a button to end the section, like a dramatic trick to get the reader hooked to move on to the next section. It felt odd against the flow of the prose and the telling of the story.

    With this ground work completed, and Bit entering adolescence, he begins to view Arcadia differently. He starts to notice the divisions between adults, the hypocrisy of the commune, and even his parents lack of commitment to the commune’s ideals. This is when the novel starts to pick up. A plot is laid out, actions are taken, and Bit starts to develop into a rounded character. We are also given Helle, the daughter of the commune’s leader, and the girl that Bit is in love with. She is a troubled girl, and more than just a free spirit, she wants to run as close to the razor’s edge as possible. She is destructive, and Bit’s attraction to her is understandable; he thinks he can save her. The commune is now being inundated with new arrivals, runaways and burnouts, who aren’t interested in the communal living so much as being away from society. As I said before, this all culminates with the commune breaking apart, but what I found very interesting was how the nearby Amish community stops by. In a sense, the Amish are an older version of Arcadia, but on the opposite end of the spectrum – ridged, disciplined, and closed off. The Amish hang on the edges, as if saying there is a way to make this work, but it is work, and not sex/drugs fun. The world does come crashing in, and when that happens, this book tells us the only people you can count on is your family, ideals be damned.

    And we jump to 2018, which was the “future” when this book was published. Bit is now an adult, having been living in New York City since the fall of Arcadia. He is a photography professor at a NYC college, and father to a daughter, Grete, whose mother is Helle. It is explained that Bit and Helle reconnected later in life, and though she tried, Helle cannot change who she is, and continues her destructive ways; she up and leaves Bit and Grete, and is never seen again. I want to give credit to Lauren Groff here. I think every other writer on the planet would have had Helle come back at the end of this book, to have some sort of reconnection or closure. I loved that this book has shit happen to people, it doesn’t make sense, and they have to deal with it. Bit and Grete have to be hurt, and learn from it, and move on, but that doesn’t mean the hurt goes away, or doesn’t stop affecting them years later. It was an honesty that I wasn’t expecting in this story, but was so grateful that it was there.

    I say this because the climax of the novel is Hannah’s slow death. It is handled with a brutal honesty and also with a poetic melancholy, which mixed together in an authenticity that was wonderful and difficult to read. Watching the person you loved first in life, slowly waste away, and become the shadow of themselves is one of the cruelest acts in life. The pain is immeasurable, deep, and crushing, and all of that is shown here. It made me have flashbacks to my mother in her final days in hospice; it was so painful, but I wanted to be there for her, so she wouldn’t be alone in her final moments. I sympathized with Bit, and I saw how all the events and experiences he had been through had prepared him for that moment with Hannah. It wasn’t surprising that Bit crawled into bed and didn’t get out after Hannah passed away. And it also wasn’t surprising that Bit pulled himself out of that bed after a week. After everything he had been through, I knew he could handle this. He was hurt and wounded, but his family did prepare him for this world.

    But, the real reason why I loved this book, was Groff’s prose. I have been trying to find a way to describe it, but the world I keep falling back on is poetic. Every word feels deliberate, contemplated, and purposeful. Maybe the plot/narrative had a few minor issues, but the prose, the language, was impeccable. It captured a feeling of the commune, but also of an idealism and connection to nature, and between the characters, which was so vital to the emotional development of Bit. Yet, the language also evolved with Bit as he grew, never staying stagnant. It is an impressive accomplishment in writing.

    I’m embarrassed that I waited so long to read this book. I’m also embarrassed at how impatient I am with novels. I want stories to get going NOW! I have forgotten that a good novel needs time, which might be one of the most obviously naïve things that I have said in a while. Clearly I needed to be reminded. This story took it’s time to create the journey it’s characters needed to take; one that allowed them to grow, become better versions of themselves. And the ideal society we need is the one we create with our family, and the friends we keep. Who we let in, and who we choose to love.

  • Personal Review: A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan

    I used to manage a theatrical rehearsal space, and we saw lots of people come in and out of the place every day. I will say this about the theatre community; it is well read. I say this because of the amount of books left in the Lost and Found box. Sadly, the majority of the lost books were never recovered, and after a month, if still not claimed, it was open for the staff to take them. That is how a paperback copy of A Visit from the Goon Squad, by Jennifer Egan entered my life. It was in my possession at least for seven years before I decided to read it over the Christmas holiday.

    Goon Squad won the Pulitzer and the National Book Critics Circle Award back in 2011, and I had heard good things about it for awhile. I went into it knowing nothing of the plot, characters, structure or anything. I did know who Jennifer Egan was, and I liked her writing, so I was looking forward to reading it.

    The book is structured in an “A” and “B” side, like a vinyl album, which is fitting as the novel is about people in, on the periphery of the music business, as well as the people who know the people in and on the periphery of the music business. As such, each chapter of the book is like a song on the album, so the chapters are not telling a linear story, but behave more like songs on a concept album – held together by a theme. What Goon Squad reminded me of was Rachel Cusk’s Outline Trilogy and her novel Second Place, in that both authors are looking for new ways to approach the novel form, especially with the emphasis on theme over conventional plot to keep the narrative moving forward. That right there made me enjoy Goon Squad.

    Yet, I did find the two issues stuck in my craw with this book.

    First was the character of Bennie, who along with the other character Sasha, are the closest the novel comes to having main protagonists. For lack of a better description, Bennie is a middle aged record executive, and former puck musician, who is not handling being middle aged very well. I am still amazed at how often in contemporary/modern literature, that the middle aged, sad male character is used. It’s such a stock character, and hasn’t changed since his debut back in the late 50’s or early 60’s. I was hoping that Egan was going to challenge the cliche, such as turning this Updike/Cheever type character on its head. Unfortunately, Bennie gets mired in the stereotype of being divorced, having a distant and disgruntled child that he can’t figure out how to connect with, and his penis stopped working like it used to, and that takes up a lot of his energy. Luckily, Bennie doesn’t dominate the book.

    My second issue was the final chapter, “Pure Language.” Set a few years in the future from the rest of the stories, it is the only one that doesn’t land. I think it’s due to trying to get this final story, or song on this concept album, to wrap up the whole theme of the book. Bennie is in this story, but it revolves around a character named Alex, who was featured in the first chapter, along with the other main protagonist Sasha. There is a lot happening in this story, which feels at odds with all the other stories which are more focused and concise on what they are trying to say. And due to this, the book lands with a sloppy thump, thus denying us the ending that the theme of the book deserved. Sticking the landing is hard.

    Believe it or not, I did enjoy this book. It doesn’t sound like it, but I did. It is well written, and very funny. And I liked that Egan did play with form and structure, using the world of the record business to address how we all get older, things change, and sometimes we start to become people we no longer recognize. This was best exemplified by the character of Sasha, who I wanted to hear more from in the best way possible. Her journey was the most honest of all the characters. A conventional author would have written a book just about her, but Egan chose to just give us glimpses of Sasha’s thoughts, and then gave us a hard look on how her actions affected the lives around her.

    I enjoyed reading A Visit from the Goon Squad, and Jennifer Egan is a writer that keeps pushing for new ways to tell stories, which is something that I deeply respect. The novel form cannot stay stagnat, and it has to evolve as soceity and culture evolves as well. I u

  • Personal Review: “Norwegian Wood” by Haruki Murakami

    I first heard of Haruki Murakami somewhere in 1995 or 1996, when I read a translated short story of his in The New Yorker. I’m pretty sure it was “The Zoo Attack,” and I think it was all tied into the article about the upcoming publication of his novel, “The Wind-Up Bird Chronicle.” The short story made enough of an impression on me that I went to the local bookstore, and found a copy of his short story collection, “The Elephant Vanishes.” I mean I read it almost 25 years ago, but I remember that the collection was great; funny, surreal, and feeling very honest. Murakami does a great job on creating these fantastical stories where the characters reactions to this unreal situations land true and authentic. (Other surreal short story writers could learn a great deal from this man.) He is a great talent, truly a world talent.

    And there was one novel of his that for a long time, you couldn’t get in English; “Norwegian Wood.” Being a huge Beatles fan, the title of the novel always stuck with me, clearly, because it’s one of their more famous songs. Published in 1987, this was the novel that made Haruki Murakami a famous author and household name in Japan. Whenever anything was written about him, “Norwegian Wood” was always mentioned as his best novel. Sadly, being that there wasn’t an English translation until 2000 of the novel, in the late 90’s, it fell off my radar as a novel I had to read. Every now and then, I would see the title show up on reading lists of writers, and friends, and I would think, I need to read that book.

    Then back in April, when I took the kid with me down to The Strand to go book hunting, I found a huge stack of paperback copies of “Norwegian Wood” sitting on a cart that I am sure had yet to be shelved. Looking at the cover, I thought it’s time for me to read it. And when September rolled around, I finally got around to it.

    I liked the novel, but I wasn’t as impressed as I thought I would be. I had read that this book was a “normal” and “straight-forward” story, and not at all in the surreal vein of his earlier stories, and that was very true. It was a memory story, and used that formula. Toru, the narrator, is on a flight and he hears the song, “Norwegian Wood” as the plane is taxing to the gate in Hamburg, Germany. This song causes him to remember the time in his life where he had just started college, and first fell in love. Thus sets in motion the story, and Toru tells us that though he hasn’t thought of these events in years, the memories come back to him in vivid detail. It was a little caveat trick that Murakami used to give agency as to why the narrator is so detailed in his memories, and also to signal to us that what we are about to hear from the narrator is the truth.

    The setting is 1969 Tokyo, and all the cultural changes that come with it. I liked learning that the upheavals that hit universities in the US and France during this period, also hit Japan as well, but Toru seems to exist just adjacent of all of this turmoil. It is a lonely life this very normal young man lives; living in a dorm, going to class, working a part-time job. Soon he reconnects with the Naoko, who had been the girlfriend of his best friend, Kizuki, in high school. We learn that Kizuki had committed suicide their senior year, and this tragic loss still hangs over both of their lives. Though they come together, they both handle the death in different ways, and with different compounding struggles.

    The novel is more complicated, and there is a theme of loyalty, duty, and commitment as well. But also, the desire to go into the world and experience and discover. I can see why the “coming of age” moniker would get thrown on this story, but I feel that is more used for marketing that an actual description of what the novel is. The characters didn’t feel like they were coming into their own, but discovering how the death of a loved one can change the prism of their world, and viewpoint; some felt guilt, some felt relief, some had a rebirth.

    But as I write all of this, and I just finished reading it yesterday, I have this feeling in the back of my head that I need more time with the novel kicking around in my head. Let it marinate, and see where it takes me. Though it wasn’t as profound as I thought it would be, it hasn’t shaken my opinion of Haruki Murakami’s talent or status as an author.

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