Scan barcode
steveatwaywords's reviews
1181 reviews
The Lazarus Project by Aleksandar Hemon
challenging
dark
emotional
mysterious
reflective
sad
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
I'm not sure why it took me so long to open this book. Admittedly, the topic seemed less compelling to me: the investigation of the death of a Jewish immigrant a hundred years earlier. But wow--that is the only the opening of the door from the work of one the finest writers I have met.
Hemon's prose is exacting, calculated, full. Single sentences resonate with the weaving of other narratives within them, and nearly every sentence is so crafted. Don't go into this thinking that you are in for a fast read. The subtleties come often in the silences between characters, in the obfuscation of historical fact vs. speculative extension vs. narrator experience. As much as anything else, our narrator/researcher, a Bosnian self-alienated both from the US and his own country, has to reconcile the death he is researching, the deaths behind his own history, and the life he is (not?) consciously living in his own marriage.
How could these possibly overlap? Which story dominates? What can we trust in the narrative as absolutely true? Yes, yes, yes, those are the questions--and Hemon handles both story and his readers in surprisingly capable hands.
I mean, yes, Hemon has also worked with the Wachowskis on television and film, too (Sense8 may give you an idea of his plotting style), but I am eager to read more of him right away. For those who are already fans ahead of me, where should I go next?
Hemon's prose is exacting, calculated, full. Single sentences resonate with the weaving of other narratives within them, and nearly every sentence is so crafted. Don't go into this thinking that you are in for a fast read. The subtleties come often in the silences between characters, in the obfuscation of historical fact vs. speculative extension vs. narrator experience. As much as anything else, our narrator/researcher, a Bosnian self-alienated both from the US and his own country, has to reconcile the death he is researching, the deaths behind his own history, and the life he is (not?) consciously living in his own marriage.
How could these possibly overlap? Which story dominates? What can we trust in the narrative as absolutely true? Yes, yes, yes, those are the questions--and Hemon handles both story and his readers in surprisingly capable hands.
I mean, yes, Hemon has also worked with the Wachowskis on television and film, too (Sense8 may give you an idea of his plotting style), but I am eager to read more of him right away. For those who are already fans ahead of me, where should I go next?
Sake and Satori: Japan (Asian Journals) by Joseph Campbell, David Kudler
informative
reflective
relaxing
medium-paced
3.5
In brief, this is a book for fans of Joseph Campbell. If you're looking for interesting travelogue, thicker mythological theory, or simple memoir, this book does not fully satisfy in any of these ways. Instead, we have Campbell's personal journal entries, and so we have a (fairly) honest daily portrayal of a few months of his Asian travels, from India through Japan.
I say "fairly" because these have been, of course, edited for print, primarily in the recreation of his drawings, some excising and clarification of extraneous detail, and the like. What remains is a 1950s Joe who--while somewhat stubborn in his first impressions and conclusions--nonetheless is working through his ideas on paper, and by the end has come around on several issues. Campbell is here post-Hero's Journey and working towards the Masks of God. Reconciling the contrasting approaches to Buddhism from India to Japan is challenging; understanding the nuances and differing practices of sects within Japan even harder. Less exciting is his freer entertaining with a few of the various women he meets.
I found myself, of course, interested less in the names of temples and Noh plays he visits than in what surely is a different set of notebooks kept elsewhere: the scholarly work as he draws points of comparison and contrast in what he discovers. In these journals, we get only references to it with a few personal reflections on conversations.
Even so, there are fewer comfortable reads than meandering through the country with Joseph Campbell, irritated by delays in letters or flights, delighted by a "magic" ritual smoke, and his frequent summaries of sparring with academic colleagues. This one remains on my shelf.
I say "fairly" because these have been, of course, edited for print, primarily in the recreation of his drawings, some excising and clarification of extraneous detail, and the like. What remains is a 1950s Joe who--while somewhat stubborn in his first impressions and conclusions--nonetheless is working through his ideas on paper, and by the end has come around on several issues. Campbell is here post-Hero's Journey and working towards the Masks of God. Reconciling the contrasting approaches to Buddhism from India to Japan is challenging; understanding the nuances and differing practices of sects within Japan even harder. Less exciting is his freer entertaining with a few of the various women he meets.
I found myself, of course, interested less in the names of temples and Noh plays he visits than in what surely is a different set of notebooks kept elsewhere: the scholarly work as he draws points of comparison and contrast in what he discovers. In these journals, we get only references to it with a few personal reflections on conversations.
Even so, there are fewer comfortable reads than meandering through the country with Joseph Campbell, irritated by delays in letters or flights, delighted by a "magic" ritual smoke, and his frequent summaries of sparring with academic colleagues. This one remains on my shelf.
The Royal Ghosts: Stories by Samrat Upadhyay
challenging
dark
emotional
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
4.5
Upadhyay is not for all tastes, a modern writer of literary fiction working to reconcile a Nepali present with its haunted past. Set in the waning days of monarchy in the shadow of the internal massacre of the royal family, the country is stalked by various political factions like the Young Maoists, meets challenges to familial traditions, struggles with employment and security of home, and does not yet see a way to domestic, political, or even personal stability.
His characters, then, exist in these spaces, making what we might see as ordinary choices in love and schooling, neighborliness and manners, all while navigating these uncertainties. They may wish to stay aloof from politics, liaison across caste lines, or simple choose charitable acts; but none can remain isolated or untouched by the "royal ghosts" of the title story.
It is a vivid and real snapshot of a fragile moment in Nepali history, captured and rendered by a storyteller adept and subtle. The disturbing and violent opening story, "A Refugee," sets this pattern up fairly clearly. And for the remaining nine stories, Upadhyay drops us into scenes, in medias res, to watch characters innocent or shamed struggle through. He leaves us in uncertainties and misfortunes often enough: what is domestic is political; what is romantic is impoverished.
We take them as they are, these moments and miscues, failures and resignations, as the best we can muster as ground and air shift, as we wonder at a past too mortal.
His characters, then, exist in these spaces, making what we might see as ordinary choices in love and schooling, neighborliness and manners, all while navigating these uncertainties. They may wish to stay aloof from politics, liaison across caste lines, or simple choose charitable acts; but none can remain isolated or untouched by the "royal ghosts" of the title story.
It is a vivid and real snapshot of a fragile moment in Nepali history, captured and rendered by a storyteller adept and subtle. The disturbing and violent opening story, "A Refugee," sets this pattern up fairly clearly. And for the remaining nine stories, Upadhyay drops us into scenes, in medias res, to watch characters innocent or shamed struggle through. He leaves us in uncertainties and misfortunes often enough: what is domestic is political; what is romantic is impoverished.
We take them as they are, these moments and miscues, failures and resignations, as the best we can muster as ground and air shift, as we wonder at a past too mortal.
Spellbound: Poems of Magic and Enchantment by WelshPoetry / Subjects & Themes / General, Poetry › Subjects & Themes › GeneralPoetry / Anthologies (multiple authors)Poetry / European / English, Scottish, Irish
lighthearted
reflective
fast-paced
2.0
Okay, I admit I was mesmerized by the idea of this book which I (fortunately) found on a public library shelf. And, to be honest, the conception for the collection was the best thing about it.
Now to be clear, it's not that there weren't great poems here. In fact, there is a solid mix of classic masters and contemporary writers. Sterne, Yeats, Cisneros, Teasdale, Bryant, and others alongside younger talents like Yu, Girmay, and Herford. And, as with any collection, not every poem is equally successful. No, if you want a fine series of poems to read, there are far worse choices.
But my rating for this collection is about the execution of the anthology, the production itself. By what measure were these chosen? For what reason categorized and assembled as they were? The book places the works into chapter "categories" like Wizardry, the Dark Arts, Household Magic, and Magicians' Lives. How each fell into these is near anyone's guess. Worse, though, is the seeming reckless hodge-podge of choices and ordering. Some of the poems, it seems, in order to fill the quota for a category, were outright amateurish, painfully so when followed by a Dickinson or Spenser.
It almost seemed (more than almost) that the editors did a Google search for poetry with keywords for their titles: "Houdini," "Wizard," "Charm," etc. and then grabbed them all and threw them together with a thick cover on top to hide the slapdash methodology. (Some, I should point out, the editors were unclear about their rights to publish and preemptive apology notes!) I was embarrassed for the poets, confused about the disjointed mess I was reading, and ultimately (thankfully) will forget that I visited here. A quick and curious gimmick for Penguin House profits.
Now to be clear, it's not that there weren't great poems here. In fact, there is a solid mix of classic masters and contemporary writers. Sterne, Yeats, Cisneros, Teasdale, Bryant, and others alongside younger talents like Yu, Girmay, and Herford. And, as with any collection, not every poem is equally successful. No, if you want a fine series of poems to read, there are far worse choices.
But my rating for this collection is about the execution of the anthology, the production itself. By what measure were these chosen? For what reason categorized and assembled as they were? The book places the works into chapter "categories" like Wizardry, the Dark Arts, Household Magic, and Magicians' Lives. How each fell into these is near anyone's guess. Worse, though, is the seeming reckless hodge-podge of choices and ordering. Some of the poems, it seems, in order to fill the quota for a category, were outright amateurish, painfully so when followed by a Dickinson or Spenser.
It almost seemed (more than almost) that the editors did a Google search for poetry with keywords for their titles: "Houdini," "Wizard," "Charm," etc. and then grabbed them all and threw them together with a thick cover on top to hide the slapdash methodology. (Some, I should point out, the editors were unclear about their rights to publish and preemptive apology notes!) I was embarrassed for the poets, confused about the disjointed mess I was reading, and ultimately (thankfully) will forget that I visited here. A quick and curious gimmick for Penguin House profits.
Berlin by Jason Lutes
adventurous
challenging
dark
informative
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
5.0
A rare gift from the genre which so often sets its bar for story low. Lutes's Berlin is history, story, maelstrom, and forecast.
Told almost exclusively from the ground-level of ordinary Germans in the late Weimar Republic, this capacious and sobering intimacy into the lives of the poor and political, astute and insensate, opportunist and idealist, reveals how very little control most have against the halting and often misfunctioning machines of power about them.
Our main characters meet, love, argue, shrug, manipulate, fight, and die with too-familiar ignorance and impotence. While we readers witness the portents Lutes drops through the multi-year storyline (and ourselves learn much from the extensive historical research here), few others understand exactly what is looming, and by the time they might, see already how it is far too late.
Along the way, however, we spend most of our time in their struggles: arguments on art theory, journalistic mission, fragmenting political movements, polarizing rhetoric, queer nightlife, debutante morality, American jazz and race fetishes, Jewish humility and charity, love-stung misadventure, rural apathy, and the like. It's difficult to capture just how broad is Lutes's brush, how detailed his illustrative frames, all compelling reading.
By any measure, Berlin belongs with works by Alison Bechdel, Craig Thompson, Will Eisner, and Marjane Satrapi as fulfilling the potential of the graphic novel.
Told almost exclusively from the ground-level of ordinary Germans in the late Weimar Republic, this capacious and sobering intimacy into the lives of the poor and political, astute and insensate, opportunist and idealist, reveals how very little control most have against the halting and often misfunctioning machines of power about them.
Our main characters meet, love, argue, shrug, manipulate, fight, and die with too-familiar ignorance and impotence. While we readers witness the portents Lutes drops through the multi-year storyline (and ourselves learn much from the extensive historical research here), few others understand exactly what is looming, and by the time they might, see already how it is far too late.
Along the way, however, we spend most of our time in their struggles: arguments on art theory, journalistic mission, fragmenting political movements, polarizing rhetoric, queer nightlife, debutante morality, American jazz and race fetishes, Jewish humility and charity, love-stung misadventure, rural apathy, and the like. It's difficult to capture just how broad is Lutes's brush, how detailed his illustrative frames, all compelling reading.
By any measure, Berlin belongs with works by Alison Bechdel, Craig Thompson, Will Eisner, and Marjane Satrapi as fulfilling the potential of the graphic novel.
Briefly, A Delicious Life by Nell Stevens
emotional
informative
reflective
sad
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
3.5
First, what an unexpected and creative approach to historical fiction! In brief, a young ghost who has haunted a monastery since her death centuries ago falls in love with the visiting author George Sand who is accompanied by sickly musician Frederic Chopin.
We get some delightful looks into the Mediterranean island cultures of the time, some real research into the various struggles--mostly social--of both artists, and some creative commentary from a ghost who has had the better part of eternity to reflect upon her understanding of people. Stevens has taken on an ambitious project, one she has made quite accessible to those interested in writing and composing, queer acceptance of the 19th century, and the biographical profiles of Sand and Chopin at this fragile historical moment of a hoped-for vacation and health recovery.
Unfortunately, for me, each of these premises promised was only moderately fulfilled. Yes, we got a bit of insight into Chopin's works and thinking, but only bits and pieces. and outside of a few poetic paragraphs, Stevens never really submerges herself into the music itself. The same is true of Sand's writing which gets even more short-changed for details about cow's milk and servant schemes. More is offered on the effect of the cross-dressing Sand making her way through past and present, children often in tow, but even here the camera is largely held at a distance, even with a ghostly protagonist set to explore it more richly.
So while I enjoyed the spark of the story and its read, it was far too brief (pun intended) to fully satisfy, perhaps thinking too self-consciously about its own marketing and the patience of popular readership.
We get some delightful looks into the Mediterranean island cultures of the time, some real research into the various struggles--mostly social--of both artists, and some creative commentary from a ghost who has had the better part of eternity to reflect upon her understanding of people. Stevens has taken on an ambitious project, one she has made quite accessible to those interested in writing and composing, queer acceptance of the 19th century, and the biographical profiles of Sand and Chopin at this fragile historical moment of a hoped-for vacation and health recovery.
Unfortunately, for me, each of these premises promised was only moderately fulfilled. Yes, we got a bit of insight into Chopin's works and thinking, but only bits and pieces. and outside of a few poetic paragraphs, Stevens never really submerges herself into the music itself. The same is true of Sand's writing which gets even more short-changed for details about cow's milk and servant schemes. More is offered on the effect of the cross-dressing Sand making her way through past and present, children often in tow, but even here the camera is largely held at a distance, even with a ghostly protagonist set to explore it more richly.
So while I enjoyed the spark of the story and its read, it was far too brief (pun intended) to fully satisfy, perhaps thinking too self-consciously about its own marketing and the patience of popular readership.
Severance by Ling Ma
adventurous
dark
emotional
sad
slow-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? It's complicated
- Diverse cast of characters? Yes
- Flaws of characters a main focus? It's complicated
3.25
Ma's book has everything going for it, including the talent of a writer who weaves subtler allegories beneath the heavier apocalyptic themes.
The narrative demands, of course, that we ask the difference between a world of drone workers and drone zombies, between misogynistic men before or after the end of the world, between alienation from one's native culture and from a micro-culture (or the absence of any). All of this is beautifully unfolded across the book's first 2/3 with a protagonist--herself understandably out of balance--who nonetheless lives with an expectation for reason and compassion.
Her resolve to discipline and responsibility to others becomes pathetic or tragic (or perhaps merely noble) while she drifts from disturbing encounter to encounter, photographing the fall of everything for an ever-shrinking audience.
So why only 3 1/2 stars? I admit, I was thrown by the novel's close, which I won't spoil here, though it felt both rushed and unresolved. Now, I'm one of the first guys to appreciate untidy endings, but if we spend a long (and fairly slow) unwinding of complex narrative, we too have an expectation: that some sort of internal settlement will follow, if not a physical one. Since we cannot escape the end of the world, we are left to the internal.
After such a powerful and compelling start, the novel ends as an action-plotted adventure story, and the significance of what it built for is nearly abandoned. And I'm not sure why. Ma certainly has the chops to find that space of--eh, we'll call it "truth"--but she instead . . . runs away.
The narrative demands, of course, that we ask the difference between a world of drone workers and drone zombies, between misogynistic men before or after the end of the world, between alienation from one's native culture and from a micro-culture (or the absence of any). All of this is beautifully unfolded across the book's first 2/3 with a protagonist--herself understandably out of balance--who nonetheless lives with an expectation for reason and compassion.
Her resolve to discipline and responsibility to others becomes pathetic or tragic (or perhaps merely noble) while she drifts from disturbing encounter to encounter, photographing the fall of everything for an ever-shrinking audience.
So why only 3 1/2 stars? I admit, I was thrown by the novel's close, which I won't spoil here, though it felt both rushed and unresolved. Now, I'm one of the first guys to appreciate untidy endings, but if we spend a long (and fairly slow) unwinding of complex narrative, we too have an expectation: that some sort of internal settlement will follow, if not a physical one. Since we cannot escape the end of the world, we are left to the internal.
After such a powerful and compelling start, the novel ends as an action-plotted adventure story, and the significance of what it built for is nearly abandoned. And I'm not sure why. Ma certainly has the chops to find that space of--eh, we'll call it "truth"--but she instead . . . runs away.
Earthlings by Sayaka Murata
challenging
dark
emotional
tense
fast-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? Character
- Strong character development? Yes
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? Yes
2.25
Okay, let's get the obvious stuff out of the way. This is absolutely not a book for sensitive readers. It is not a children's book; it is not cute or merely funny, despite its cover; and it is not anything like most readers would expect.
Frankly, this is one of the only books I have read in many years which has out and out flummoxed me. I don't know what to make of it. I was initially highly offended, even near the beginning, but I awaited with a strong acquaintance of that reader-author contract: the reader promises to read in earnest and the author promises to make it worth their time. My first gut-level response: this contract was heavily violated. I could only imagine that the cascading and escalating passages of human offense were intended merely for shock value, but to what end? So I waited some time before I wrote this, examined what I already understood of Japanese literature, and read more.
Okay. So let's try this from a different perspective, then. <i>I</i> am Earthling, a human living with a culturally-defined set of values and conceptions, of judgments and limits. These are not something I would expect an alien species to share. I don't pretend that my values are all sensible, that they cohere into a neat pattern, that they do not have contradictions, or that in some ways they don't enact cruelties upon other living creatures at times. How would a non-Earthling understand me?
Now don't misunderstand where I've gone so far. I don't think there are aliens in this book, no matter how often they are spoken about. Suppose, instead, some humans convinced themselves they were not Earthlings? To what principles would they be bound?
I don't want to go further down that line of thought, though, for fear of spoiling the reading. Instead, I want to switch to a quick take on the traditions of Japanese literature. A lot of art from Japan smacks up against Western mores and always has: sexuality, violence, abuse, suicide, incest, and the like. I can't pretend to know enough about the nuances of <i>why</i> but historically Japan's self-effacing discipline and propriety might certainly foment a strong counter-response.
We've seen such counter-responses in perhaps smaller ways from Osamu Dazai, Yukio Mishima, and even Haruki Murakami. In larger ways manga as subculture or contemporary Japanese horror reveal potent responses to this social suppression. Is this what we have in Murata? A potent--even comic--response, a social commentary that pushes against propriety?
If so, it's a comedy that is lost on me. The narrator, who begins as a child and ends the novel as an adult but still with a childlike tone, is both victim of multiple offenses and herself disturbing. Yes, the vapid and dense responses of adults seem cartoonishly extreme, but then, so is everything else.
It's been said that Murata is advocating, among other things, a better understanding of asexuality. And while this may be true in the aspect of a social critique on the expectation to marriage and child-rearing, it can't be true if our champion of queerness is busy practicing offenses which most all would claim are mentally disturbed. Aligning queerness with mental illness is a problematic move at its kindest.
So, I'm trying. I'm working to understand what the draw is here. At the smallest level, this is not a novel for me. At the kindest level, Murata clearly knows what she is doing, and I will likely try another of her books. At a literary level, I can't help believing that, no matter what her own conception was in producing this book, most reader fans are fawning upon something else entirely.
Frankly, this is one of the only books I have read in many years which has out and out flummoxed me. I don't know what to make of it. I was initially highly offended, even near the beginning, but I awaited with a strong acquaintance of that reader-author contract: the reader promises to read in earnest and the author promises to make it worth their time. My first gut-level response: this contract was heavily violated. I could only imagine that the cascading and escalating passages of human offense were intended merely for shock value, but to what end? So I waited some time before I wrote this, examined what I already understood of Japanese literature, and read more.
Okay. So let's try this from a different perspective, then. <i>I</i> am Earthling, a human living with a culturally-defined set of values and conceptions, of judgments and limits. These are not something I would expect an alien species to share. I don't pretend that my values are all sensible, that they cohere into a neat pattern, that they do not have contradictions, or that in some ways they don't enact cruelties upon other living creatures at times. How would a non-Earthling understand me?
Now don't misunderstand where I've gone so far. I don't think there are aliens in this book, no matter how often they are spoken about. Suppose, instead, some humans convinced themselves they were not Earthlings? To what principles would they be bound?
I don't want to go further down that line of thought, though, for fear of spoiling the reading. Instead, I want to switch to a quick take on the traditions of Japanese literature. A lot of art from Japan smacks up against Western mores and always has: sexuality, violence, abuse, suicide, incest, and the like. I can't pretend to know enough about the nuances of <i>why</i> but historically Japan's self-effacing discipline and propriety might certainly foment a strong counter-response.
We've seen such counter-responses in perhaps smaller ways from Osamu Dazai, Yukio Mishima, and even Haruki Murakami. In larger ways manga as subculture or contemporary Japanese horror reveal potent responses to this social suppression. Is this what we have in Murata? A potent--even comic--response, a social commentary that pushes against propriety?
If so, it's a comedy that is lost on me. The narrator, who begins as a child and ends the novel as an adult but still with a childlike tone, is both victim of multiple offenses and herself disturbing. Yes, the vapid and dense responses of adults seem cartoonishly extreme, but then, so is everything else.
It's been said that Murata is advocating, among other things, a better understanding of asexuality. And while this may be true in the aspect of a social critique on the expectation to marriage and child-rearing, it can't be true if our champion of queerness is busy practicing offenses which most all would claim are mentally disturbed. Aligning queerness with mental illness is a problematic move at its kindest.
So, I'm trying. I'm working to understand what the draw is here. At the smallest level, this is not a novel for me. At the kindest level, Murata clearly knows what she is doing, and I will likely try another of her books. At a literary level, I can't help believing that, no matter what her own conception was in producing this book, most reader fans are fawning upon something else entirely.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Body horror, Child abuse, Emotional abuse, Mental illness, Rape, Sexual assault, Violence, and Murder
This is an extraordinarily graphic and disturbing novel and is not for sensitive readers of any kind. It is difficult for many readers to understand the author's reason for these scenes, which dominate above the plot itself.
The Iron Heel by Jack London
adventurous
challenging
dark
inspiring
tense
medium-paced
- Plot- or character-driven? A mix
- Strong character development? No
- Loveable characters? No
- Diverse cast of characters? It's complicated
- Flaws of characters a main focus? No
4.0
Reading London's dystopian novel that champions socialism against tyranny and oligarchy is to first step into its premise knowing what you're in for: more a socialist manifesto than a dramatic thriller. Though London tries to do both (even with an interesting framework of relating it as an historic document examined by a socialist utopia future), he is not successful. The "story" of The Iron Heel is not his point, so if you are looking for a thriller that will reveal a traditional plotline, this is not it. The book literally ends before the story is finished as the main character never completes her journaling.
So why read it? I enjoyed the read simply for its melodrama which, despite the frequent dithyrambic speeches by its all-knowing protagonist, offers some prediction both in the working ideologies behind contemporary politics and economic machinations, but more importantly how even most of the practices by oppressors are unexamined by them: they themselves do not understand what they are doing, but they know only that they must protect what they have in a system where the deck is already stacked. London sees much of this larger picture which--while true enough in the early 20th century--has all the basic tenets of what might be true today, if in hybridized forms.
This is not a successful novel. Other reviewers are right, I think, to compare to Ayn Rand. The novel is merely the vehicle for the political idealogue. Even so, at that level, entertaining, foreboding, and a too-likely forecast of power unchecked.
So why read it? I enjoyed the read simply for its melodrama which, despite the frequent dithyrambic speeches by its all-knowing protagonist, offers some prediction both in the working ideologies behind contemporary politics and economic machinations, but more importantly how even most of the practices by oppressors are unexamined by them: they themselves do not understand what they are doing, but they know only that they must protect what they have in a system where the deck is already stacked. London sees much of this larger picture which--while true enough in the early 20th century--has all the basic tenets of what might be true today, if in hybridized forms.
This is not a successful novel. Other reviewers are right, I think, to compare to Ayn Rand. The novel is merely the vehicle for the political idealogue. Even so, at that level, entertaining, foreboding, and a too-likely forecast of power unchecked.
Content Warnings
Graphic: Death, Gun violence, and War
Glittering Images: A Journey Through Art from Egypt to Star Wars by Camille Paglia
informative
medium-paced
3.0
This art book is beautifully rendered and offers a marvelous introductory tour to the history of image, written by an incisive and celebrated/denigrated author. Think of it as 20 or 30 5-page essays on selected works through the centuries, most in the last 150 years.
I was expecting a lot from it, I admit, since I have enjoyed/debated/wrestled with/hated upon Paglia's various interviews and essays in the past. But, much like her book on poetry, <i>Break, Blow, Burn </i>, I was, to be honest, underwhelmed.
Outside of a few choice side passages and ironic asides, most of the book is fairly straightforward presentation of art history and brief biographies of the artists she has selected. Less time is spent on the works and the interpretations themselves. This was odd and frustrating to me since her stated premise for the book was to teach us how to "resee." So, then, shouldn't we be looking harder rather than wandering into the various cities Picasso lived? The occasional teasing comments throughout the book, such as "Penises have proved troublesome in Western art," tell us there is so much more to see, if only she'd let us.
That discussion about the eras and periods of art, their premises, and their consequences, was far more interesting when it happened. But again, since she built the book around works of art rather than periods or movements, these passages often felt like side trails to the subject at hand rather than real illuminations. Had she built the book around the idea of movements as they relate to image, we might have fared better, perhaps.
As a result, what we have are brief essays which never quite connect with one another to form what I imagined was the promise of the text: what is humanity about in its construction of image? This broader, theoretical question might have been where Paglia could really step out and offer her take on what we're up to, but she, far more safely, remains tucked into the background. In that case, what we have is a solid introductory art book, but little more.
I was expecting a lot from it, I admit, since I have enjoyed/debated/wrestled with/hated upon Paglia's various interviews and essays in the past. But, much like her book on poetry, <i>Break, Blow, Burn </i>, I was, to be honest, underwhelmed.
Outside of a few choice side passages and ironic asides, most of the book is fairly straightforward presentation of art history and brief biographies of the artists she has selected. Less time is spent on the works and the interpretations themselves. This was odd and frustrating to me since her stated premise for the book was to teach us how to "resee." So, then, shouldn't we be looking harder rather than wandering into the various cities Picasso lived? The occasional teasing comments throughout the book, such as "Penises have proved troublesome in Western art," tell us there is so much more to see, if only she'd let us.
That discussion about the eras and periods of art, their premises, and their consequences, was far more interesting when it happened. But again, since she built the book around works of art rather than periods or movements, these passages often felt like side trails to the subject at hand rather than real illuminations. Had she built the book around the idea of movements as they relate to image, we might have fared better, perhaps.
As a result, what we have are brief essays which never quite connect with one another to form what I imagined was the promise of the text: what is humanity about in its construction of image? This broader, theoretical question might have been where Paglia could really step out and offer her take on what we're up to, but she, far more safely, remains tucked into the background. In that case, what we have is a solid introductory art book, but little more.