Michael Kevane

I wanted some light reading after my trip to Burkina Faso, and Leslie had checked this fantasy novel out of the library. I enjoyed the good writing, and the deep character development. But the mixing of realistic shtetl Jews in a fantasy novel just bugged me throughout. Seemed like she needed to invent a comparable imaginary group like the European Jews. Not actually have the exact same culture in a fantasy novel! Still, what do I know? Reviewers from Vox and New York Times really liked the novel.

I like flying on Air France because i get to see a lot of the Cannes film entries, and a huge selection of global movies. This recent trip three quite decent movies are worth watching if you have access.

Sibel is from Çagla Zencirci and Guillaume Giovanetti, and inevitably can be compared to Mustangs (about daughters growing up in village Turkey). The cinematography is gorgeous, the plot interesting. This review from Variety is spot-on. Not a perfect film, and some glaring issues, but still very interesting to watch.

Variety says about Yomeddine: “A lovingly-made, character-driven road movie that occasionally dips into sentimentality yet has moments that honestly play on the heartstrings.” And if you have ever traveled in Egypt, even better. This is a movie to watch with your intelligent, inquisitive 10 year-old. They will remember it for life if you take the time.

Another Egyptian movie, Egyptian Ahmad Abdalla’s picture, EXT. Night, was fascinating. Again, some plot issues, but really goes on a nice tour of night-time Cairo.

If you are looking for a short novel to read, The Girls of Slender Means by Muriel Spark is one of the best novels I have read in a decade. Within five pages you start admiring Spark’s writing, and as you get deeper into the novel you increasingly realize how amazing she is. She captures intense settings and actions with a few crafty sentences. Everything is in your mind.

Virgilia Patterson in The New York Times wrote, in 1963 when the book appeared: “Admirers of Miss Spark’s last and brilliant little tale, “The Prime of Miss Jean Brodie,” may find “The Girls of Slender Means” more oblique and ambiguous. The abrupt shifts in time are less easy to follow, and the verses she quotes with such poignant effect may not seem relevant to those who do not remember the context of the poems she quotes from (as, for instance, “Gerard Manley Hopkins’s “The Wreck of the Deutschland,” in which one nun goes to her death unafraid). Furthermore, the book’s end may appear arbitrarily drastic to those who do not have a religious view of fate. But those who seek new dimensions in their reading will find this to be Miss Spark’s most interesting piece of work. “

Our neighborhood book group decided not to read this for next time, but I was intrigued by the “pitch” and so got it from the library. It is a good, solid, novel: not much to talk about in terms of literary style unless you are really into the poetry of the prairie, which is not my thing. But the portrait of small-town Nebraska in the 1800s, with the Swedish and Bohemian and French immigrants, and the struggle to establish a prosperous farm, and the sociology of being a semi-independent woman, is quite interesting. Cather is most interesting with her matter of fact descriptions of daily routines or special events, like the fairs.  The story arc is rather melodramatic.

I would definitely recommend to anyone interested in American history. And by the way, some of them read a lot of books in their spare time. O Readers!

The Shining Girls, by Lauren Beukes is a time-travel serial murder novel. So, I love most time-travel novels. I am not a fan of serial murder novels. About halfway through I started skimming: I am almost never interested in how bone-knife-artery-floor interactions work, no matter how literary. The “ordinary life” American history recounted through the time travel device was well-done, but someone like me might often just prefer to read primary sources or work by historians. So, altogether, well-written, but not my genre.

HT: Carmen McCain for recommending

My Mortal Enemy, by Willa Cather, is a short novel first published in 1926. Pretty bitter. An unforgettable protagonist, who cuts through platitudes, is complex and a bit unfathomable even to a perceptive narrator. The writing is excellent. Here is an excellent article by Charles Johanningsmeier about who might have been the inspiration for the novel, which apparently is a bit perplexing for Cather scholars.

What prompted Cather to write about the McClures in early 1925, though, was learning about McClure’s pathetic position during her 1924 meeting with him. Possessing detailed knowledge both of the McClures’ courtship and their current situation, Cather commenced her novel about the lies, contradictions, and disappointments involved in such a seemingly passionate love affair, and the disillusionment of one who wants so very much to believe in it. The numerous parallels between the stories of the Henshawes and the McClures make identification of these persons as Cather’s models unmistakable; furthermore, the evolution of Nellie’s relationship with the Henshawes is closely mirrored by Cather’s relationship with the McClures, and with S. S. McClure in particular.

More is in the article. Fascinating!

Our neighborhood book group read The Sense of an Ending by Julian Barnes and I loved it! Oddly, as I was reading it I had the distinct feeling I had already read it, but I could not remember anything. Thinking a lot about this short book really paid off: as you browse it for nuance, you find it on practically every page. Little details that you passed by in the first reading, you suddenly realize are quite important. It is intense and compact, and a wonderful study in ambiguity. From the perspective of the book group discussion, let me say it is a “Yes” to the following question: “Is there a short novel that good readers can spend more than an hour trying to dissect what actually is happening?” The narrator is unreliable, and tells you that right away. And he is very unlikable, but he is telling such an interesting story. And he is really very perceptive, at least in his self-serving understanding of those around him.

He Knew He Was Right by Anthony Trollope proved to be a fine summer novel. Like most of Trollope, it is long.  So 20-30 pages a day means it takes a month to finish. But the reading is quite rewarding. Keen insights into the situation of a certain class of women, who have occupied the popular imaginary for more than a century: the constrained, corseted, almost imprisoned Victorian young women, whose entire social identity depends on the men in their social orbit. Trollope here concentrates almost entirely on the women’s point of view. Gripping!

Stay with Me, by Ayobami Adebayo came out in 2017 and received good reviews. I picked it up the other day in our university library. A decent read, it is a domestic drama set against backdrop of Yoruba culture and Nigeria in the 1980s. Personally, I do not find dramatic stories of marriage problems (and boy does this one have them!) that interesting. The writing is competent, though sometimes it seemed like the author and editor lost track of what they were trying to accomplish (occasional fast-forwards, multiple points of view…) and Akin’s point of view sections are far less interesting than Yejide’s, and one fundamental issue with him is never really explained or explored, which was kind of weird.

The author talks about her book:

Harp of Burma, Michio Takeyama. 1946. For our book club (whose rule is under 200 pages). Not politically correct by any means, this tale of a Japanese company towards the end of the Burma war in 1944 was apparently intended as a redeeming novel for young people in Japan to draw the right lessons from the war. Lots of understated Buddhism, but too many stereotypes about Burma.

Nebula Awards Showcase, 2018. Mostly the stories tended towards fantasy, which is not my preferred genre. Unless Ursula K. Le Guin is writing. I enjoyed reading “Seasons of Glass and Iron” by Amal El-Mohtar, “Blood Grains Speak Through Memories” by Jason Sanford, and “Sooner or Later Everything Falls Into the Sea” by Sarah Pinsker, and “The Orangery” by Bonnie Jo Stufflebeam.

The Stone Country, by Alex la Guma. Fine writing, classic political prison novel.

Vladimir Nabokov, King, Queen, Knave. A lot of fun to read. When I retire, English PhD, on Nabokov. how come nobody is studying his work?

Short stories in The New Yorker.

• John L’Heureux, “Escape.” One’s own imminent suicide has to be pondered, by writing a story about one’s father and his bad death. Yikes was my only reaction. this story was so close to home, with Alzheimers and Parkinsons and getting older.
• Camille Bordas, “The Presentation on Egypt.” A father’s suicide has to be filtered and processed by mother and daughter. A finely-etched portrait. Not revelatory, more like a chapter in a novel.
• Ben Lerner, “Ross Perot and China.” A family sketch. And definitely part of a novel. Very little to chew on here. Like leaving a time capsule for 1,000 years from now: how did some humans live and what did they think of?
• Lauren Groff, “Brawler.” Sad tale of a teenager whose mother is dying. Yeah, beautifully written but definitely not my groove when I have a teenage daughter at home!
• Greg Jackson, “Poetry.” Very literary story, about a couple and their relationship, and maybe dying after eating some fruit on the beach.
• Te-Ping Chen, “Lulu.”  Political story about a young woman in China who gets obsessed with… justice and liberty. And her brother, who isn’t.

Sarah Pinsker, Sooner or Later Everything Falls into the Sea. Short stories set in the future. Billed as sci-fi, but these did not appeal to me as much as I had hoped. Nicely done, small moments of human insight. When I read sci-fi though I usually want more of a sense of wonder.

Mary Beard, SPQR. Fun reading this over last few weeks, a long history of the Roman Republic. I knew very little about that history. I wonder whether it will stick. But so interesting the institution of the two elected consuls. And how little historians actually know.

Mark Twain, Roughing It. Amazing to think this was an incredibly literate person, with keen insight, traveling for months in the western territories, only about 150 years ago. Not something you read straight through. I pick it up and read a dozen pages at a time.  The opposite of sci-fi, I guess. He relishes the tall tales, Twain does.

I must say the past few months have, in my opinion, been generally excellent, with many stories that I think are extremely well crafted and profound (many deal with rape), and very little of the silly stuff (yes, I’m looking at you Coraghessan Boyle).  I will link to the my favorite literary blog Mookse and the Gripes, where people discuss The New Yorker stories so you can see more profound remarks other than my own “I liked it.” Most of these I listened to the author reading via the Fiction Podcast.

Pat Barker: “Medusa”   I found it amazing. An artist is raped. Her body goes through the motions of life. Her mind, though…

Colson Whitehead: “The Match”  You start getting nervous during a story, with that dreadful feeling that you do not want to know where it is going, but where it is going is to a place that just cannot be forgotten, that has to be remembered every day, of cruelty so vast it is buried in the trunk of trees.

Lore Segal: “Dandelion” You must listen to her reading the story, with her wonderful accent. Wild Strawberries from a woman’s point of view. Profound and nostalgic.

Sally Rooney: “Color and Light” I gather she is getting a lot of good press. I liked the story, which is wonderfully vague and ambiguous.

Yiyun Li: “All Will Be Well” A writer listens to the stories told by her hairdresser, about her lost love. Much of the story is a meta story, and, one learns later when reading about Li, sadly unfolded from the author’s own experience.

Jonathan Lethem: “The Starlet Apartments” Not for everybody, but I thought there was more to the story than the surface. Perhaps a meta story buried in there?

Leïla Slimani: “The Confession” A young woman from the village is raped by the narrator. How can he live with it? Beautiful, sad story.

Mary Gaitskill: “Acceptance Journey” Dragged on a bit but how we can make sense of our sometimes all too ordinary lives is wonderful.