Showing posts with label a novel. Show all posts
Showing posts with label a novel. Show all posts

Sunday, November 19, 2017

Russell Hoban: Kleinzeit

Russell Hoban
Kleinzeit
a novel


When I first began reading Kleinzeit I immediately thought of Lewis Carroll's poem "Jabberwocky."   Wrong!  It soon became clear that there was a significant difference.  In "Jabberwocky," Carroll creates words that almost make sense, so that one gets only a general sense of what is happening.   Hoban doesn't make up words; he uses real words  but he uses them in a strange way.  Fortunately they only occur in limited situations, usually when medical personnel are discussing Kleinzeit's symptoms.

For example . . .

Sister nodded with closed eyes, thought of Kleinzeit's blood in the phial she had held, warm in her hand.  The tests had shown a decibel count of 72, a film speed of 18,000 and a negative polarity of 12 percent.  She didn't like the polarity, it might go either way, and the decibels were on the dodgy side.  But his film speed!  She'd never had an 18,000 before.


And later. . .

'That's why I'm asking,' said Dr. Pink.  'I'm not worried about your diapason.  That sort of dissonance is quite a common thing, and with any luck we'll clear it up fairly soon.  The hypotenuse of course is definitely skewed, but not enough to account for a 12 percent polarity.'  Fleshky and Potluck nodded, Krishna shook his head.  'On the other hand,'  Dr. Pink continued,  'the X-Rays  indicate that your asymptotes may be going hyperbolic.'  He felt Kleinzeit here and there  warily, as if sizing up a combatant hidden in him.  ' Not too happy with your pitch.'


Aside from the occasional linguistic muddle, the reader soon discovers that  everything talks: the hospital, the corridors in the underground subway, a mirror, the hospital bed . . .


It is night and Kleinzeit has left the hospital and is standing by the square in front of the hospital.

The day knocked three times at his eyeballs.
Morning for Mr. Kleinzeit, said the day.
I'm Mr. Kleinzeit, said Kleinzeit.
Sign here, please.
Kleinzeit signed.
Thank you very much, sir, said the day, and handed him the morning.
Right, said Kleinzeit.  The square was wide-awake with people, had a hum of cars around it.  Backdrop of buildings, rooftops, sky, traffic noises, world.



Later, the hospital speaks:

Six o'clock in the morning, and Hospital had had enough of sleep.  Drink tea, it said.  Patients sighed, cursed, groaned, opened or closed their eyes, came out  from behind oxygen masks, drank tea.


Or, Kleinzeit's encounter with his mirror one morning: 

He put his face in front of the bathroom mirror. 
I exist, said the mirror.
What about me? said Kleinzeit.
Not my problem, said the mirror.


This does not sound like a very congenial way to begin the day--perhaps an omen, an ominous one of things to come?  


These are not rare occurrences in the novel; they can be found on almost every page.  I find them to be the major attraction in Kleinzeit, as I turn the pages, wondering what next.  By the way, there is a plot here--it's noticeable if you take an overview and ignore most of what's happening in the individual chapters.  And for the romantically inclined, there's even a love subplot  (or perhaps the major plot, depending on what you're looking for in a novel).


This is my second reading. There will be more, for who knows what I've missed this time around.


Tuesday, October 3, 2017

Lawrence Durrell: Pope Joan

Lawrence Durrell:  Pope Joan
translated and adapted from the Greek of Emmanuel Royidis. 



Brief  quotation from the Wikipedia article on Pope Joan

"Pope Joan (Ioannes Anglicus) was, according to popular legend, a woman who reigned as pope for a few years during the Middle Ages. Her story first appeared in chronicles in the 13th century and subsequently spread throughout Europe. The story was widely believed for centuries, but most modern scholars regard it as fictional.

Most versions of her story describe her as a talented and learned woman who disguised herself as a man, often at the behest of a lover. In the most common accounts, due to her abilities, she rose through the church hierarchy and was eventually elected pope. Her sex was revealed when she gave birth during a procession, and she died shortly after, either through murder or natural causes. The accounts state that later church processions avoided this spot, and that the Vatican removed the female pope from its official lists and crafted a ritual to ensure that future popes were male.  In the 16th century, Sienna Cathedral featured a bust of Joan among other pontiffs; this was removed after protests in 1600."



From the Catholic Encyclopedia: 
 
The fable about a female pope, who afterwards bore the name of Johanna (Joan), is first noticed in the middle of the thirteenth century.The Catholic Encyclopedia lists a number of variations on this legend at this address:

http://www.newadvent.org/cathen/08407a.htm



From the Wikipedia article on Emmanuel Royidis:

"In 1866 Rhoides published a controversial novel, The Papess Joanne ( Ἡ Πάπισσα Ἰωάννα), an exploration of the legend of Pope Joan, a supposed female pope who reigned some time in the ninth or tenth century (which was in fact a time of great turmoil for the papacy). Though a romantic novel with satirical overtones, Rhoides asserted it contained conclusive evidence that Pope Joan truly existed and that the Catholic Church had been attempting to cover up the fact for centuries.
The book's scathing attacks on what he viewed as an uneducated, uncultured, superstitious and backward clergy were controversial, and led to Rhoides's excommunication from the Greek Orthodox Church which perceived that its own clergy was the real target of those attacks."


Now, to the novel:

The narrator at the beginning of Part Three, approximately half way through the work states that "good Christians loathe those who mix religion  for the sake of profit, with the various inventions of their shaven or sprouting heads; the miracles of irons, pagan gods disguised as saints, genuflections, tickets for Paradise, holy relics, rosaries. . ."  Yet, this is what is found in this work, which is supposed to provide conclusive proof of its claim of a female pope.  Should good Christians, therefore, loathe this work?

The first three parts of the novel tell of her early life, her wanderings with her father,  an itinerant  monk, and the miraculous escapes and events of that time of her life.  This includes a long period in Athens, after she and her lover (a monk) had escaped from the monastery.  At the beginning of Part Four, about 3/4 through the work, the narrator now tells us that everything up to this point has been the product of his imagination, but from this point on everything is based "on the works of eminent chroniclers."

At this point, we are told of her career in Rome, prior to becoming pope, "She also studied medicine and according to some evil tongues she was well acquainted with the principles of witchcraft; it is said that she could force the evil spirits of the day (the former gods Bacchus, Hera, Pan and Aphrodite to leave the gates of darkness and run to do her bidding."  No source is given for this statement, as for most of the other claims in this part of the tale.

We are told of the fabulous natural wonders that followed Joan's election as pope.  Though it was still midsummer, heavy snow fell and blocked the streets of Rome, earthquakes shook Europe, while a rain of blood fell in Bresse and a hail of dead locusts in Normandy.  "Even the owls and night-jars which infested the roofs of the Vatican hooted for three successive nights in the most ominous manner. . ."

Part of the chroniclers's account includes wonders that occurred on her ascension to the throne of Peter, but even here, a footnote suggests that these were borrowed from other accounts of miraculous occurrences at the selection of various popes.  For the most part, this part tells mostly of her love affair with her secretary and personal assistant and little about her activities as pope.

Since I don't read Greek, I have no idea of how much of the book is Royidis and how much is Durrell.  The scathing attacks on the monks and clergy is commented on by critics who were reviewing Royidis's  novel and not Durrell's.  So, that part of the book is probably Royidis' work.

Overall, the tone of the work does not inspire me with great confidence in the argument of a female pope back in the ninth century.  Could there have been a female pope back then?   It's possible, but the complete lack of anything documenting such an event, which should have been shocking, from that time and only appearing some four hundred years later, suggests it's a myth. 

I suspect Lawrence Durrell had as much fun translating and adapting this work as I had in reading it.



Monday, September 18, 2017

Lawrence Durrell: The Black Book

Lawrence Durrell
The Black Book


The Black Book is the novel that gained Lawrence Durrell notice in the literary world.   T. S. Eliot called it "the first piece of work by a new English writer to give me any hope for the future of prose fiction."  Henry Miller worked to get a private edition printed in Paris when Durrell had difficulty finding a publisher.

I find some interesting parallels between The Black Book and the Alexandria Quartet  (AQ).  It's almost as if this was a first attempt which gave him the experience to produce the much larger work, four novels in the Alexandria Quartet, instead of one. 

Both novels are 1st person narratives,  and the narrators of both are now on islands in the Mediterranean, writing of  their experiences of the past year or two.   While the narrator in the AQ writes of his experiences in Alexandria just before WWII, the narrator of The Black Book tells the reader in the past year he has spent in a tired, rundown  hotel in London.  Both narrators struggle as they are in the process of learning their craft.

We don't find out the narrator's name in the AQ until the second novel, Balthazar.  And then, it's only his last name, Darley.  However we do get a clue in the first novel when Darley is told that he's referred to as Lineaments of Gratified Desire.  These are his initials, which coincidentally happen to be the same as the author's: Lawrence George Durrell.   The narrator in The Black Book jokingly refers to himself several times as Lawrence Lucifer. 
 
Those are not the only parallels.   As in the AQ, various forms of love or lust are portrayed in The Black Book, although limited in comparison to the AQ. Another is that at least one other writer is featured prominently in both works.  Journals and diaries also play an important role in both works.  One last commonality is the broken narrative structure in both works wherein the time line is fractured.  Characters are brought into the narrative, and we learn that they are dead or have left before we find out anything about them, including their relationship to the narrator.  It is only later that we learn their significance

Of course, differences exist.  Aside from the size of the two works, one major difference is tone.  The AQ seems to be, to me anyway, a celebration of Alexandria, with all its marvelous characters, its romantic and tragic tales, and its history.  On the other hand, The Black Book is a bitter, biting satire on England between the two world wars.  The narrator refers to "the English death" frequently when speaking of the England of the 1930's.  In the AQ, the golden, if sometimes harsh, light of the sun is an important characteristic of the natural world, while England is usually portrayed as dark, gloomy, and rainy. 

I had first read The Black Book only after reading The Alexandria Quartet, so it is difficult, if not impossible, to judge it on its own merits.  How much of my interest in the work is the result of having read it after The Alexandria Quartet and, therefore, seeing the relationship of this work to the larger work is debatable. I just don't know.  What my feelings toward this work would be if I had read it first is difficult to say right now.


Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Angus Wilson: Anglo-Saxon Attitudes

Angus Wilson
Anglo-Saxon Attitudes
a novel


I have often thought that the full title of this novel should be Anglo-Saxon Attitudes: A Psychoanalytic Case Study.  Angus Wilson had undergone therapy himself,  after suffering a "nervous breakdown,"  probably the result of the tension endemic to his work at the famous code-breaking institution Bletchley Park during WWII.

I will reveal a significant episode that occurs approximately half way through the novel.  The commentary would make little sense if I did not bring this up.


The novel is structured along the lines of a classic psychoanalytic case.  There are several components to be considered here. 

One is that the patient has unhappy  or dissatisfied with life for a significant period of time.

"Gerald Middleton was a man of mildly but persistently depressive temperament.  Such men are not at their best at breakfast, nor is the week before Christmas their happiest time.  .  . The prospect of speaking to his wife on the telephone and, even more, of the family Christmas party greatly heightened his depression."

Middleton has been separated from his wife for some time now.  Moreover, his children either do not like him or respect  him.  His wife, Inge, has convinced the children that he is to blame for the separation.

Middleton now is sixty years of age and has retired from his university position as a lecturer in history.  Early in his career he had published a book which promised a great future for him, but he never lived up to that brilliant beginning.   At present he still maintains membership in a professional society of historians and is regarded highly enough to be considered for the position of editor for the major publication planned to come out in a few years.  The present editor is retiring at the end of the year and  he, along with other members of the society, wants Middleton  to take on the position and the huge task of editing the work.

Middleton, so far,  had rejected the suggestion, feeling that he hadn't the energy to handle the workload, and used as an excuse his own project,  a definitive work on the life of Edward the Confessor which he had supposedly been working on for years, and had done very little on it for years.  Many believed he would never finish the work while some even doubted its existence.

In the first half of the novel, we follow Middleton in his encounters with friends, family, and colleagues and see the growing disgust with his life.

He sums up his life as follows:  "a family man who had had neither the courage to walk out of the marriage he hated, nor the resolution to sustain the role of father decently.  A ex-professor of medieval  history who had not even fulfilled the scholarly promise of studies whose general value he now doubted."

It is in this state of mind that Middleton travels down to his wife's residence to spend the Christmas holidays with her and his three grown children, two sons and a daughter, and their spouses.  The family squabbling and the disdain shown him only increases his unhappiness.

After the Christmas Day dinner, the family gathers in the drawing room, and Middleton settles down "in a deep armchair. . .hunched up as far as his great height would allow him, and remote.  He seemed even to have barricaded himself form the rest of the family with little tables on which were his brandy glass, his coffee cup, his ashtray."

One psychoanalytic technique is free association, the mental process by which one word or image may spontaneously suggest another without any apparent connection. Therapists, especially those of the Freudian flavor,  ask the patient to respond freely and without conscious thought to words uttered by the therapist, and those responses then become the basis for discussions in future sessions.

As the family discussion continues,  several phrases at random stir memories of past events which relate to significant events in his personal and professional life.  As he considers these events, he drifts off each time into sleep in which each of those memories becomes a dream in which he undergoes a complete recall of those memories.

Another standard treatment element in a psychoanalytic session is dream work.  The patient recalls for the therapist any dreams he or she has had since the session.  In psychoanalytic theory, dreams are the repressed memories of past traumatic events which are too painful for the patient to confront.

Up to this point, Middleton has progressed through the various steps of a classic case study: he has recognized that he is extremely unhappy and dissatisfied with his life, he has brought up memories of his past through free association, and he has fully relived those events through his dreams.

One step remains: the gaining of insight, without which there can be no change, no resolution, no escape from his present situation. At the end of his last dream. . .

"So that, he thought, was the whole of it.  Suspicions engendered by the words of a drunkard, and the actions of a hysterical woman.  He had never dared to confront Gilbert with his words again nor face Inge with his suspicions about Kay's hand.  And from these slender foundations it seemed he had woven a great web of depression and despair to convince himself that his chosen study of history was a lie and the family life he had made a deception. . . It seemed to him  suddenly as though he had come out of a dark narrow tunnel, where movement was cramped to a feeble crawl, into the broad daylight where he could once more walk or run if he chose."

The last lines of Part One show how much he has changed as a result of the insight that he has gained into the sources of his unhappiness.


"Inge's voice came to him. 'Now there is your father, who has slept all through our wonderful talk.'

'No, I hear you, my dear,' he said.

'We have been talking about truth.  But you are the one who can tell us.  The great scholar!'  Her voice was sarcastic.  He got up and,  walking over to her, he kissed her on the cheek.  It was an action only little less sarcastic than her words.

'You know all about the truth, don't you, Gerald? she asked.

'Yes, my dear, I do.' he answered, 'but I'm going off to bed..'

When he got upstairs to his room, he sat down and wrote to Sir Edgar, accepting the editorship of the History."


Now that he has faced the truth, now that he has gained insight, all that energy he had expended on repressing those memories, is now freed up.

Psychoanalytic case studies usually end at this point, with perhaps a brief summary of the resolution of the sessions. But, this is only the halfway point in the novel.  What can follow?   What follows is what doesn't get into a case study and is seldom if ever discussed.  The patient has gained insight into the sources of the present situation and needs to change past behaviors and re-establish relationships on a different footing.

Herein lies the problem: the patient has changed, but the family, friends, colleagues haven't.  While the present relationships may not be ideal, they are at least comfortable and predictable.  In addition, each of Middleton's three children has a subplot in which Middleton attempts to help them.
 
This, then,  is the theme of the second part of the novel: Gerald Middleton attempts to change the nature of his relationships with others. To change a relationship requires a change in both parties, and change, as we all know too well, is difficult, and frequently impossible.

One of the joys of this novel is Wilson's skill in characterization.  Many of the secondary characters are sketched out: each is unique, each speaks with a different voice, and each has a distinct relationship with one or more of the other characters.  If any cast of characters can be described as Dickensian, the cast in this novel is one.

Angus Wilson's Anglo-Saxon Attitudes is one of the few novels on my permanent must-be-reread list.


Saturday, November 5, 2016

Andrey Kurkov: Death and the Penguin, a novel

Andrey Kurkov
Death and the Penguin



A Militia major is driving along when he sees a militiaman standing with a penguin.

'Take him to the zoo,' he orders.

Some time later the same major is driving along when he sees the militiaman still with the penguin.

'What have you been doing?' he asks.  'I said take him to the zoo.'

'We've been to the zoo, Comrade Major,' says the militiaman, 'and the circus.  And now we're going to the pictures.'"


This quotation begins the novel by Andrey Kurkov, titled Death and the Penguin.  Kurkov is a Ukrainian writer born in 1961.  This novel was published in 1996,  after Ukraine gained its freedom from the USSR.

The penguin is real.  Its name is Misha.  The main character is Viktor Alekseyevich Zolotaryov, a Ukrainian writer living in Kiev, Ukraine.  He's not very successful, unfortunately.    About a year before the story begins, his girlfriend had left him and he was lonely.  He heard that the local zoo was giving away animals because they couldn't afford to feed them.  He went to the zoo and came home with a king penguin.

Now, he has just been offered a job as an obituarist for a newspaper.  An obituarist is one who writes obituaries for living people.  At first he simply reads the papers and selects those who appear regularly in news articles and the gossip columns.  Shortly afterwords, his editor hands him a list of his next subjects, and soon he doesn't have time to select those he will write about.  But, it really makes no difference to him.

Then something strange happens.  Suddenly, his obituaries become needed shortly after he writes them.  His subjects are dying, unexpectedly, most violently.  Is there any connection? 

Well,  Viktor  seems to be involved in a way in some criminal activity, but it's in a very peripheral way.  He prefers to remain ignorant of what might be going on behind the lists he gets from his editor. He's just doing his job.   But the real world keeps impinging on his attempts to remain in the background.

The back cover blurb calls it  "A masterful tale set in post-Soviet Kiev that's both darkly funny and ominous."   I would add quirky to that description.

There is a sequel, Penguin Lost,  which picks up shortly after the events of Death and the Penguin. I will read that for the further adventures of Misha the Penguin.
 

Monday, October 31, 2016

N. Scott Momaday: The Ancient Child, a novel

N. Scott Momaday
The Ancient Child

As I began reading this work, I was reminded of Momaday's, The Way to Rainy Mountain, which I posted on several years ago.  That work had a three part structure.  Each section began with a Kiowa legend, myth, or story and this was followed by a bit of factual information which related to the myth or legend.  For example, Momaday related a story about a famous arrow maker and this was followed by factual information about arrow-making among the Kiowa. The third part was a personal reminiscence by Momaday.

The Ancient Child  has four interwoven narrative threads: one is a Kiowa legend; the second is a bit of Western lore, part true and part myth; the third the story of a Kiowa/Navajo medicine woman; and the fourth the story of a Kiowa who was orphaned at eight, adopted by whites, and grew up far from the reservation and his people.

It took a while, but gradually, most of the threads merged or I could see the possibility of a merging. However, there is still one narrative thread that I haven't quite been able to meld with the others, so I will have to reread it to see what I have missed.


Momaday begins with an epigraph that provides a clue as to the nature of the work:

 "For myth is at the beginning of literature, and also at the end."     -- Borges --


And the cast of characters provides more clues.

Characters

LOCKE SETMAN,  called Set, an artist
GREY, a young medicine woman, a dreamer

HENRY McCarty, Billy the Kid, a notorious outlaw
KOPE'MAH, an old medicine woman
BENT SANDRIDGE, Set's adoptive father, a retired man, humane and wise
LALA BOURNE, a beautiful, ambitious woman
SET-ANGYA,  an old Kiowa man, Chief of the Kaitsenko Society, a Lear-like man, a man who carries about the bones of his favorite son                

THE BEAR, himself,  the mythic embodiment of wilderness
OTHERS, as they appear





THE BEAR, one of the four threads
                                                Prologue

Eight children were there at play, seven sisters and their brother.  Suddenly the boy was stuck dumb; he trembled and began to run upon his hands and feet.  His fingers became claws, and his body was covered with fur.   Directly there was a bear where the boy had been.  The sisters were terrified; they ran, and the bear after them.  They came to the stump of a great tree, and the tree spoke to them.   It bade them climb upon it, and as they did so it began to rise into the air.  The bear came to kill them, but they were beyond its reach.  It reared against the trunk and scored the bark all around with its claws.  The seven sisters were borne into the sky, and they became the stars of the Big Dipper. 

         
 
                      Kiowa story of Tsoai (Kiowa for rock tree)

Tsoai, the great stump of the tree, stood against the sky.  There was nothing like it in the landscape.  The tallest pines were insignificant beside it; many hundreds of them together could not fill its shadow.  In time the stump turned to stone, and the wind sang at a high pitch as it ran across the great grooves that were set there long ago by the bear's claws.  Eagles came to hover above it, having caught sight of it across the world.  No one said so, but each man in his heart acknowledged Tsoai and the first thing he did upon waking was to cast his eyes upon it, thus to set his belief, to know that it was there and that the world remained whole, as it aught to remain.  And always Tsoai was there.



This must be a true story, for I have seen Tsoai.  It is as it is described: it sits all alone on the plains, and there is nothing like it anywhere near it.   I have camped out there and it is so.  And many others have seen it, even those who have never been there, as it was prominently featured in the film Close Encounters of the Third Kind.  We call it Devils Tower and it is found in Wyoming.

Side Note:  The Sioux Nation has recently requested that the name be changed to Bear Lodge, saying that to associate it with the devil is misleading and insulting
.  


BILLY the KID
Born Henry McCarty, he sometimes called himself William H. Bonny,  but he is  best known as Billy the Kid. We are given both factual information and Grey's interactions with Billy the Kid.  Grey's interactions are actually dreams or visions in which she interacts with Billy, and at one time she helps Billy escape jail. 


LOCKE SETMAN  (SET)
He is a Kiowa whose parents died, and he was placed in an orphanage.  He was adopted by Bent Sandridge and grew up in San Francisco.  At the beginning of the novel, he had never returned to the reservation.  I wonder about the name of his adopted father and haven't been able to come up with anything significant.  As he is described in the Table of Contents, he is a wise and humane individual..

Set developed his talent for painting and became quite popular for his unique style and subject matter.  Unfortunately, as his popularity increased, he listened more and more to his agent, to art dealers, and to the buying public and gradually began doing less and less of what he wanted to paint.  Now he is depressed and lost, feeling that he has betrayed his talent and it is lost forever. 


GREY
She is a medicine woman and a dreamer  (these dreams are more like visions than dreams though).  Her father was a Kiowa and her mother Navajo.  Her basic language is English, but she knows some Kiowa and Navajo and knows much about both cultures, especially Kiowa lore and healing..  I bring her up last, not because she is the least important, but for the very opposite reason.  She is the most important human character in the novel for she is the central core that unites the novel. It is her visions of Billy the Kid and her knowledge of Kiowa medicine and lore that brings the three threads of Billy the Kid, the Bear, and Set together.

While she unites the three narratives in her, I still don't quite understand the relationship of her visions/dreams of Billy the Kid to the other two.  What I do know is that Momaday has a personal fondness for Billy the Kid.   I am now reading another work of his, In the Presence of the Sun, and it  contains a section called "The Strange and True Story of My Life with Billy the Kid."  This section fills 30 of the 145 pages in the book, and it contains poems, some stories, and personal reminiscences about his interest in Billy the Kid. 

It Is Grey who is responsible for bringing Set to the reservation and connecting him with his Kiowa heritage. She does this for one simple reason.  She is a medicine woman and she knows she is the only one who can help Set face the problems that are coming to him.   And, those problems have to do with the Bear.

This is my first, but certainly not my last reading of this work.  The Ancient Child is not a simple, feelgood work.  There is evil here, as there always is in that other world we call real.  The best way to conclude this preliminary commentary is to end the way N. Scott Momaday began--with Borges' epigraph:

               "For myth is at the beginning of literature, and also at the end."