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hiagovinicius's review against another edition
challenging
emotional
funny
inspiring
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? Yes
- Diverse cast of characters? No
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
ludovicaciasullo's review against another edition
2.0
Si tratta di una raccolta di racconti di varia lunghezza (alcuni davvero micro, di poche righe, due lunghi una ventina di pagine), che non sono uniti da nessun tema, almeno non che io abbia colto.
La scrittura di Davis è graffiante e ironica, e questa caratteristica è esaltata nella forma brevissima, in cui tutto il piacere della lettura sta nella maestria dell'autrice a rendere "densa" una manciata di frasi. Probabilmente non è il genere che più mi attira, perché alla lunga anche questa continua sferzata mi ha un po' stancata. Oltretutto, non credo di aver sempre colto il "senso" di ognuno dei microracconti, per cui ammetto di essere stata a tratti un po' frustrata.
Alcune pagine mi hanno colpito, divertita o commossa, ma nel complesso questa raccolta mi lascia un po' confusa perché non riesco a darle una visione unitaria né posso dire di averla "assaporata" con gusto da cima a fondo.
La scrittura di Davis è graffiante e ironica, e questa caratteristica è esaltata nella forma brevissima, in cui tutto il piacere della lettura sta nella maestria dell'autrice a rendere "densa" una manciata di frasi. Probabilmente non è il genere che più mi attira, perché alla lunga anche questa continua sferzata mi ha un po' stancata. Oltretutto, non credo di aver sempre colto il "senso" di ognuno dei microracconti, per cui ammetto di essere stata a tratti un po' frustrata.
Alcune pagine mi hanno colpito, divertita o commossa, ma nel complesso questa raccolta mi lascia un po' confusa perché non riesco a darle una visione unitaria né posso dire di averla "assaporata" con gusto da cima a fondo.
kirinmccrory's review against another edition
4.0
When Lydia Davis writes few words, I find myself impressed by the impact, the great, grey impact, such few words can make on the reader; when Lydia Davis writes many words, I find myself impressed by the connections, those expansive, grey connections, that so many words can make.
rara2018's review against another edition
3.0
As a sum of its parts, this is a mediocre collection at best. I respect what Lydia Davis was doing here with the super short stories, but they just weren’t interesting after a while. Reading this made me understand the comments people make when they’re like “I don’t want to hear stories about your dreams.” I will say, the stories that actually had something to say did make me tear up a little. There were a few stories about dogs that made me a little emotional, and another about losing a sister that, being one of the longest in the collection, actually gave the reader a little time to connect with the story being told. Davis also included some humorous stories about things like being vaguely annoyed and the vastness of Illinois. If this had been trimmed a bit to remove the more basic and uninteresting stories, this could’ve been a four or even five star read, but as it stands, there was just too much bogging down the collection—I couldn’t care less about those damn Flaubert stories.
2kerrymehome's review against another edition
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Plot
- Strong character development? No
2.0
I spent the majority of this book thinking I was reading nonfiction for the simple fact that the stories were too dull to be fabricated.
Examples of full stories:
- Two girls in a supermarket and one's holding cheese twists and the other says "give that to me. I'll wring your neck"
- I am reading a bad novel, and I don't want to read it.
- someone thinks Alabama is a city in Georgia
After most stories I wondered what the point was. For nonfiction: quaint, vaguely ironic observations in random sequence seemed the only answer. I reasoned this was like David Sedaris' diaries without the humor, or Joan Didion's memoirs but never circling back to the heart under the absurdity.
Then I realized this was fiction, and the pointlessness tripled. There was a story about the narrator beating a dog, saying it had no redeeming qualities, tying it up, sending it to be euthanized and seeing the dead dogs discarded. WHY. It doesn't walk the reader to any sense of the matter- not instruction or humor or beautiful prose or emotion or warning or eulogy. Read about these dead dogs I made up, Davis says. Give me a reason to, I would answer. Even absurdist writings have a point.
Every subject written about seemed to be fair game for emotionless and pointless recounting. There was Flaubert's account of seeing indigenous people in a traveling show, and how they were in love with him (WHY). There was the pair of Spanish speaking maids who weren't good at their jobs (WHY). There was the professor who hated teaching and let her class get out of hand (WHY).
I've come to the conclusion that this is only nonfiction because small details were changed to suit dramatic irony or to avoid autobiographical impropriety that would make her look bad (complaining about her students, or in-laws after a funeral). The only stories that seemed to have a reason to exist were the letters to the frozen pea companies and expensive peppermint makers, and that reason was amusement.
These stories did make me feel something: fear. Fear that I might one day become a white lady who is this self absorbed, unconcerned, and rude to waiters.
Examples of full stories:
- Two girls in a supermarket and one's holding cheese twists and the other says "give that to me. I'll wring your neck"
- I am reading a bad novel, and I don't want to read it.
- someone thinks Alabama is a city in Georgia
After most stories I wondered what the point was. For nonfiction: quaint, vaguely ironic observations in random sequence seemed the only answer. I reasoned this was like David Sedaris' diaries without the humor, or Joan Didion's memoirs but never circling back to the heart under the absurdity.
Then I realized this was fiction, and the pointlessness tripled. There was a story about the narrator beating a dog, saying it had no redeeming qualities, tying it up, sending it to be euthanized and seeing the dead dogs discarded. WHY. It doesn't walk the reader to any sense of the matter- not instruction or humor or beautiful prose or emotion or warning or eulogy. Read about these dead dogs I made up, Davis says. Give me a reason to, I would answer. Even absurdist writings have a point.
Every subject written about seemed to be fair game for emotionless and pointless recounting. There was Flaubert's account of seeing indigenous people in a traveling show, and how they were in love with him (WHY). There was the pair of Spanish speaking maids who weren't good at their jobs (WHY). There was the professor who hated teaching and let her class get out of hand (WHY).
I've come to the conclusion that this is only nonfiction because small details were changed to suit dramatic irony or to avoid autobiographical impropriety that would make her look bad (complaining about her students, or in-laws after a funeral). The only stories that seemed to have a reason to exist were the letters to the frozen pea companies and expensive peppermint makers, and that reason was amusement.
These stories did make me feel something: fear. Fear that I might one day become a white lady who is this self absorbed, unconcerned, and rude to waiters.
sloatsj's review against another edition
5.0
Coincidentally, today just before I finished this a colleague handed back to me [b:Varieties of Disturbance|113862|Varieties of Disturbance|Lydia Davis|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1317064658s/113862.jpg|109631], which I'd lent to her some time ago. I asked her how she liked it and she said she liked much of it, but sometimes felt Davis was full of herself, and must think all her words are gold-plated.
I don't feel that way at all, though I think [b:Can't and Won't: Stories|17934642|Can't and Won't Stories|Lydia Davis|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391348924s/17934642.jpg|25142533] is a better collection. I got so used to the very short that I kind of dreaded the stories of normal length, even though there were good too, with the exception of "Letter to the Foundation," which I didn't like.
My favorites were -
A Cook's Lesson
The Two Davises and the Rug (a longer one, relatively)
A Woman, Thirty
Her Geography, Alabama
How I Read As Quickly as Possible Through My Back Issues of the TLS
Men
Negative Emotions
The Piano
The Seals (a longer one)
Left Luggage
Waiting for Takeoff (which begins, "We site in the airplane so long, on the ground, waiting to take off, that one woman declares she will now write her novel, and another in a neighboring seat says she will be happy to edit it.")
Industry
Wrong Thank-you in Theater
I don't feel that way at all, though I think [b:Can't and Won't: Stories|17934642|Can't and Won't Stories|Lydia Davis|https://d.gr-assets.com/books/1391348924s/17934642.jpg|25142533] is a better collection. I got so used to the very short that I kind of dreaded the stories of normal length, even though there were good too, with the exception of "Letter to the Foundation," which I didn't like.
My favorites were -
A Cook's Lesson
The Two Davises and the Rug (a longer one, relatively)
A Woman, Thirty
Her Geography, Alabama
How I Read As Quickly as Possible Through My Back Issues of the TLS
Men
Negative Emotions
The Piano
The Seals (a longer one)
Left Luggage
Waiting for Takeoff (which begins, "We site in the airplane so long, on the ground, waiting to take off, that one woman declares she will now write her novel, and another in a neighboring seat says she will be happy to edit it.")
Industry
Wrong Thank-you in Theater
keight's review against another edition
4.0
I think what I love about Lydia Davis is how she finds significance and narrative in the banalities of the every day. Read more on the booklog
n0rth3y's review against another edition
4.0
This collection of short stories and poems depict mundane moments and idle thoughts into beautiful snapshots of recognizable human emotion. I'm not familiar with prose poetry, so this felt very fresh and new. It was like reading haiku - the conciseness and rhythm of her writing are worth studying.
murphys_bee's review against another edition
2.0
I had to push myself to turn every page and finish this book. Miserable is probably the best description.
cryo_guy's review against another edition
4.0
More of a 3.5, but not bad.
This was my first experience with Lydia Davis, but I had heard people commend her writing and I was attracted to the cover of this book (Green inset text, a punchy "can't and won't" on a minimalist white background, what's not to like?). Part dreams, part tiny stories, part short stories, part Flaubert, and maybe one or two longer short stories, Davis' writing sports highly detailed considerations of...things. Some stories are parodies of "normal" American life-housekeeping, eating out, branding and corporations, cows, airplanes, etc. Many of the stories are so short that there isn't much to complain about except perhaps their brevity itself. I found that the longer ones often involved interesting explorations into deeper considerations. The one about airplanes can be seen as a meditation on the fear of death.
The Cows was probably my favorite. It might be the longest story of the bunch and it doesn't particularly go anywhere aside from observing 3 cows in a field, but Davis make it interesting despite these things with a dance around the shadowy shapes the cows make in the field and the passage of time as one observes them.
My other favorites were The Landing (the airplane one mentioned above) and The Seals which is a moving portrait of mourning.
I will say that occasionally the stories were boring, but this isn't the visceral sort of boredom I've experienced when reading a novel that goes nowhere. Short stories give you a freedom to talk about a given subject no matter how small and, in my opinion, the reader can't take that away from the author, as dead as they may be (Thanks Derrida). At worst this book suffers from an excess of cutesy and tame wit, at best, it's clever and readable. And that's probably the thing I'd praise most about the book-very readable. Each story builds upon its category and makes the later ones more understandable; Flaubert becomes a friend, Davis' dreams a window you've looked through before, and the parodies come from a familiar voice.
I should mention that it's split into 5 sections, but they didn't seem that significant to me other than as useful divisions.
The other thing I heard about Davis is that people think beginning creative writing students and classes should use her. I don't find this suggestion out of place. My only real complaint is how suppressed and muted things can feel, but at the same time there's a certain charm in how it develops.
This was my first experience with Lydia Davis, but I had heard people commend her writing and I was attracted to the cover of this book (Green inset text, a punchy "can't and won't" on a minimalist white background, what's not to like?). Part dreams, part tiny stories, part short stories, part Flaubert, and maybe one or two longer short stories, Davis' writing sports highly detailed considerations of...things. Some stories are parodies of "normal" American life-housekeeping, eating out, branding and corporations, cows, airplanes, etc. Many of the stories are so short that there isn't much to complain about except perhaps their brevity itself. I found that the longer ones often involved interesting explorations into deeper considerations. The one about airplanes can be seen as a meditation on the fear of death.
The Cows was probably my favorite. It might be the longest story of the bunch and it doesn't particularly go anywhere aside from observing 3 cows in a field, but Davis make it interesting despite these things with a dance around the shadowy shapes the cows make in the field and the passage of time as one observes them.
My other favorites were The Landing (the airplane one mentioned above) and The Seals which is a moving portrait of mourning.
I will say that occasionally the stories were boring, but this isn't the visceral sort of boredom I've experienced when reading a novel that goes nowhere. Short stories give you a freedom to talk about a given subject no matter how small and, in my opinion, the reader can't take that away from the author, as dead as they may be (Thanks Derrida). At worst this book suffers from an excess of cutesy and tame wit, at best, it's clever and readable. And that's probably the thing I'd praise most about the book-very readable. Each story builds upon its category and makes the later ones more understandable; Flaubert becomes a friend, Davis' dreams a window you've looked through before, and the parodies come from a familiar voice.
I should mention that it's split into 5 sections, but they didn't seem that significant to me other than as useful divisions.
The other thing I heard about Davis is that people think beginning creative writing students and classes should use her. I don't find this suggestion out of place. My only real complaint is how suppressed and muted things can feel, but at the same time there's a certain charm in how it develops.