Immortality

StuckinaBook All , 14 Comments

A little while ago I mentioned that I was reading Immortality by Milan Kundera for my book group. I can’t remember what stage we were at then, whether the mutiny had taken place… well, tomorrow we’re meeting to discuss Immortality and/or An Equal Music by Vikram Seth, since people were either unable or unwilling to read one or other of these… so, a compromise, we’ve done both and can read either! If you’re not confused by now, then you’re doing better than me. ANYWAY, I have read Immortality – finished this morning – and I hardly know how to respond. It is completely different from anything else I have ever read. That’s a bit of a cliche, I daresay, but for this book it’s true – because Kundera has more or less reinvented the novel. (This is the only Kundera book I’ve read – he might have done this before Immortality, maybe I’ll wait for Claire to pop by, because I know she’s a big Kundera fan.)

It’s very postmodern, that’s the first thing to say. In that, we get bits of narrative from Kundera’s perspective – he mentions his own previous novels, he tells us what he’s going to write in later chapters. The novel (I’m going to use the word, even though it’s not really a novel… or is it?) opens with him seeing a woman making a gesture – he then names her Agnes and invents a story around her, around that gesture. And then weaves it into a literary, historical intertextuality that darts all over the place, including Rubens, Goethe, Hemingway, Beethoven… So many lives intersect and reflect on each other – the real, the fictional, the metafictional. And yet it isn’t formless or baggy – there is a definite feeling of wholeness, a structure – just a very unorthodox one. I haven’t read any reviews of Immortality, but I expect all of them mention this excerpt at some point, from the point of view of Milan Kundera-within-the-novel (who may or may not be the same as Milan Kundera the author, let’s face it): I regret that almost all novels ever written are much too obedient to the rules of unity of action. What I mean to say is that at their core is one single chain of causality related acts and events. These novels are like a narrow street along which someone drives his characters with a whip. Dramatic tension is the real curse of the novel, because it transforms everything, even the most beautiful pages, even the most surprising scenes and observations merely into steps leading to the final resolution, in which the meaning of everything that preceded it is concentrated. The novel is consumed in the fire of its own tension like a bale of straw. I don’t blame you if you’re rolling your eyes, and reaching out for the nearest Agatha Christie novel – but please don’t be put off straight away. I don’t know why postmodern stuff is so often annoying (it’s less the ‘shock of the new’ as the irksome nature of those who want to cause that shock) but, with Kundera, it isn’t annoying at all. He completely disrupts the novel form, and throws the reading experience into a whole new category, but it isn’t self-indulgent. His writing is so good, he is so very, very perceptive, that it works. It’s as I wrote after the first few pages – he notices things about human behaviour, or perceptions of the self, and finds beautiful or unusual images to demonstrate this. Nothing is overwritten, and nothing is carelessly written. There’s nothing worse than an author thinking they’re being profound, when they are actually writing truisms – I believe Kundera doesn’t fall into this trap. (The only trap he does fall into is being rather too obsessed with sex). But, of course, I haven’t read any philosophers, so…

Now I look at it, the excerpt I wanted to quote isn’t the most original thought in the book – that’s because the most original ones are connected to the tiny things individuals do, his perceptions being mostly filmic – like visual leitmotifs running through the book, through different characters and periods. But here’s a bit, to give you a small idea: I think, therefore I am is the statement of an intellectual who underrates toothaches. I feel, therefore I am is a truth much more universally valid, and it applies to everything that’s alive. My self does not differ substantially from yours in terms of its thought. Many people, few ideas: we all think more or less the same, and we exchange, borrow, steal thoughts from one another. However, when someone steps on my foot, only I feel the pain. The basis of the self is not thought but suffering, which is the most fundamental of all feelings. While it suffers, not even a cat can doubt its unique and uninterchangeable self. In intense suffering the world disappears and each of us is alone with his self. Suffering is the university of egocentrism.
This isn’t my normal reading territory at all, and early feedback from my book group suggests some definite disdain for Kundera – but I am fascinated, admiring, and rather captivated… at the same time, it will be a while before I read another book by this author. I’m rather bowled over, and need to keep him to dip into now and then. But Immortality is an amazing achievement – just not one to curl up with in front of the fire.

LibraryThing

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I set up a LibraryThing account back in September 2005, added ninety or so books to it, and promptly abandoned the whole thing… For some reason, a couple of weeks ago I decided to give it another go. In the interrim I have made card catalogue lists of all my books (very handy for taking to Hay-on-Wye and preventing me buying books I already own) which made putting them on LibraryThing a HECK of a lot easier.


And so here I am. If you’ve ever wanted to scout through my library, now you have the opportunity – and I even have a sassy widget in the left-hand column which will show you some of the books every four seconds. It’s a bit weighted to authors beginning G-Z, because for the A-F authors I was scrupulously choosing the editions I owned, and after that I just chose the ones which had cover pictures included.

To be honest, I’m not sure what else to do with it now – I know that FleurFisher is the person who has the highest percentage of her books in common with me, and it’s fun to see how many books I own that nobody else on LibraryThing does, but I don’t really see myself having the time to enter into the (doubtless bustling) community. My bookish online community time is already taken up twofold!


But there you are, thought you might be interested. How’s about you – are you a LibraryThing user? Or any other online library service?

Nella Last

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30. Nella Last’s War

I’ve mentioned a couple of times on here about Nella Last’s War, which I’ve been reading gradually for a few months. I knew that I was one of the last (no pun intended) to pick this up, but hadn’t realised that it was first published back in 1981 – before I was born! So it’s taken me my whole life so far, but I’m delighted to have finally come upon this – I’ll be very surprised if it doesn’t feature in my favourite books of 2010.

For those not in the know (or thought it was Nella’s Last War – or, like me, confused Nella Last with Nella Larsen) this diary is taken from a Mass Observation diary compiled by ‘Housewife, 49’ Nella Last during World War Two. She documents the war from the perspective of a mother in Northern England, with solider-age sons (Cliff and Arthur), living a fairly ordinary life with an ordinary husband in an ordinary neighbourhood.

But this diary is anything but ordinary. Though Nella did not think herself a clever woman, nor believe that she had fulfilled her half-held ambition to be a writer, she has a quite astonishing gift. I’ve read quite a few diaries and letters and similar, but only Virginia Woolf compares – they both have an intelligent voice, a way of describing everyday events with unusual images or perceptive insights which reveal so much about them. Unlike most people’s diaries (certainly unlike mine) there is little repetition, no undue introspection, no references to unknown people who appear and disappear. True, these may have been edited (I don’t know how substantially) but had Nella Last intended to write a novel, the structure, and precision in her language, couldn’t be bettered.

And of course, the period was not uneventful. I find reading about major events from an individual’s perspective so illuminating.

Wednesday night, 5 June, 1940
This morning I lingered over my breakfast, reading and re-reading the accounts of the Dunkirk evacuation. I felt as if deep inside me was a harp that vibrated and sang – like the feeling on a hillside of gorse in the hot bright sun, or seeing suddenly, as you walked through a park, a big bed of clear, thin red poppies in all their brave splendour. I forgot I was a middle-aged woman who often got up tired and who had backache. The story made me feel part of something that was undying and never old – like a flame to light or warm, but strong enough to burn and destroy trash and rubbish. It was a very hot morning and work was slowed a little, but somehow I felt everything to be worthwhile, and I felt glad I was of the same race as the rescuers and rescued.I could quote so much from this book, but I’m just going to give you another – one of my favourite excerpts, a beautiful passage, all the more beautiful because it is from true experience, and not a honed image from a novel.
Saturday, 6th November, 1943
How swiftly time has flown since the first Armistice. I stood talking to my next-door neighbour, in a garden in the Hampshire cottage where I lived for two years during the last war. I felt so dreadfully weary and ill, for it was only a month before Cliff was born. I admired a lovely bush of yellow roses, which my old neighbour covered each night with an old lace curtain, to try and keep them nice so that I could have them when I was ill. Suddenly, across Southampton water, every ship’s siren hooted and bells sounded, and we knew the rumours that had been going round were true – the war was over. I stood before that lovely bush of yellow roses, and a feeling of dread I could not explain shook me. I felt the tears roll down my cheeks, no wild joy, little thankfulness. Oddly enough, Cliff has never liked yellow roses. When he was small, he once said they made him feel funny, and his remark recalled my little Hampshire garden and the first Armistice. Now Cliff is in another war – and we called it the ‘war to end all war.’
A year or so ago Nella Last’s Peace was published, which carries on her diaries until 1965 – Our Vicar’s Wife has a copy, so I’ll borrow it from her at some point. I didn’t see the TV programme Housewife, 49, based on Nella Last’s War, with the rather wonderful Victoria Wood – but apparently it was rather good. Which is only fitting for a book, and a woman, so exceptional as Nella Last. As a diary, it can scarcely be bettered – and as a perspective on the Second World War from the home front, this book is invaluable and should be read for many years to come.

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

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Hope you’ve all had a good week – doesn’t it go quickly? – here we are again with a book, a blog post, and a link to amuse and bedazzle you this weekend. (NB: bedazzlement not guaranteed.)

1.) The book – I’ve been meaning to read Grace by Alex Pheby for ages, ever since Two Ravens Press sent it to me… and that was quite some while ago. I’m still keen to read it, but it looks like it might not be in the very near future, and I think some of your lovers of quirky literature might quite like this, judging on the blurb. Peterman escapes a secure hospital, and wanders, half-delirious, into a nearby forest. Here he stays with an old woman and a young girl, and an extraordinary relationship develops between them. And so on…. Unreliable narrators, madness, apparently ‘luminous, lyrical prose’ – could be a winner. Having done a scout around, I see that almost exactly a year ago Lizzy Siddal reviewed Grace and interviewed Alex Pheby… It’ll still probably be a while before I get to this book, but I’d love to hear from anyone who has read it, or plans to.

2.) The blog post – I don’t usually pick straightforward reviews for this, as usually something a bit different has caught my attention, but I was rather struck by Harriet’s review of My Lover’s Lover by Maggie O’Farrell – find it here – and thought I’d make a change. I’ve only read one O’Farrell novel (The Vanishing Act of Esme Lennox) but I will probably be spurred on to more now…

3.) The link – isn’t remotely literary this week, but if (like me) you can’t quite see the point of Twitter, and are quite fond of English eccentricity, then you could do worse than clicking on this link…

A Game of Hide and Seek

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I promised a Virago Modern Classic, and a Virago Modern Classic I will deliver. I’ve already read a couple Elizabeth Taylor novels, Angel and Mrs. Palfrey at the Claremont (click on the titles if you fancy reading my thoughts on them, but to summarise – they’re very good) and Nicola Beauman’s biography of Elizabeth Taylor, but there’s plenty of way to go – and when my supervisor told me I should take a look at A Game of Hide and Seek, how could I resist?

The ‘game’ in question is both literal and metaphorical. The novel opens with Harriet and Vesey (query: is this actually a name?) playing a game of hide-and-seek – and this game follows them throughout the rest of their lives… they chase each other, misunderstanding each other’s emotions and failing to say the right thing at the right times, and often saying the wrong thing. Vesey goes to Oxford; Harriet remains behind – and marries somebody else. Later, of course, Vesey reappears – and the same old feelings reappear as well.

I didn’t really want to write out the plot of A Game of Hide and Seek because, like so many of the best novels, the plot isn’t that important. A thousand novelists have written novels with this plot (for another good one, see EM Delafield’s Late and Soon) and explored the emotions that such a recrudescence can have. But few of them will have Elizabeth Taylor’s talent.

Confession time: I read the first half of this on the bus to and from London, and wasn’t very excited about it. I was tired, I had a headache, I was reading the words but not really getting anything out of it. It was only when I returned, busless, to my reading that I understood what an exceptionally well written novel A Game of Hide and Seek was. Taylor excels at the metaphor which is unusual and yet exactly conveys an image. One of my favourites was this:
Harriet tried to put on a polite and considering look. She loved the music, but could not allow herself to enjoy it among strangers. Sunk too far back in her too large chair, she felt helpless, like a beetle turned on its back; and as if she could never rise again, nor find the right phrases of appreciation. How many authors would think of that image, of a beetle turned on its back? And yet it works so very well. That is, to my mind, what sets Taylor apart from other authors – and makes it hard to explain exactly why – that she writes the sort of novel that many could write, but concentrates so much on avoiding cliche and finding new life in her characters, that she is on another level. Another example? It’s always difficult to ‘show’ good writing, isn’t it? But this is a paragraph I highlighted as being representative – the sort of writing which one has to read slowly, to enjoy it fully. The fog lay close to the windows. The train seemed to be grovelling its way towards London, but the banks on either side were obscured. Harriet wondered if they were passing open fields or the backs of factories, and she cleaned a space on the window with her glove, but all she could see reflected were her own frightened eyes.You can just tell that every word is carefully chosen, can’t you? This is all sounding a bit earnest, so I’m also going to quote my favourite line from the novel, which is often humorous as well as serious: “The meat has over-excited them,” Harriet thought. She had always heard that it inflamed the baser instincts.Quite so, Elizabeth, quite so.

I won’t go over the top, this isn’t the best novel I’ve ever read – but it is some of the best writing that I’ve read for a while. If you chose novels for their plot, you might not think too much of A Game of Hide and Seek. If you chose novels for their writing style and characterisation, this may well be something you’ll love – and admire. Not often that those two can go hand in hand – but Elizabeth Taylor is the woman for the job.

Answer!

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Hope you enjoyed that, and well done ramblingfancy, who more or less got the right answer – Return of the Native is the odd one out, for reasons which will become clear when you see the books’ opening lines…

‘Whan that Aprille with his shoures soote’ – The Canterbury Tales

‘A Saturday afternoon in November[…]’ – The Return of the Native

‘April is the cruellest month’ – The Waste Land

‘It was a bright cold day in April, and the clocks were striking thirteen’ – Ninety Eighty-Four

Thanks for all your ingenious guesses!

Answer me do

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Oh dear, it’s another night when I’m feeling too sleepy to write out my planned book review (and it’s a Virago Modern Classic… there, that’s whetted your appetite).

Instead, I’m going to break all sorts of BBC confidentiality thingummies, and offer a quiz question which I heard whilst seeing Radio 4 programme ‘The Write Stuff’ being recorded on Sunday. It won’t be broadcast for a few weeks, I don’t think, so when it’s on you can pretend you always knew the answer…

It’s an odd-one-out question. They gave characters from these books, and people had to work out what the book was, but I can’t remember the character names and I’m skipping that bit. Seeing The Write Stuff made me realise how little I really know about books… but, once they’d got as far as the book titles, I cottoned on to this one. And it’s rather nice.

So, without further ado – which is the Odd One Out from this list? And why, of course…
The Canterbury Tales – Geoffrey Chaucer
The Return of the Native – Thomas Hardy
The Waste Land – T S Eliot
Nineteen Eighty-Four – George Orwell

Bonne chance! (And no cheating, now)

Books and Bloggers and Winners

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I don’t think I’ve thanked you for all your fascinating comments on my What’s In A Name? post – I haven’t done much replying there, but I so enjoyed reading your comments. If you haven’t had a look yet at the thoughts behind the blog names, do go and have a look at the comments here…

And now, drum roll please, time to announce the winner for The Winter Book by Tove Jansson – my friend Mel stepped in to play the role of bit-of-paper-selector (having excelled in her role as bits-of-paper-folder) – and the winner is….


Congratulations, Susan! Email me your address, and I’ll get the book off to you – hope you like it. Susan was also, coincidentally, the first person to put her name in the comments. Just to prove that I wasn’t lazy and cheated, here are all the other bits of paper with names on…


In other, rather exciting, news – the good people of The Big Green Bookshop in Wood Green, North London have set up a great initiative – Bloggers’ Book of the Month. They’ve asked ten bloggers to put forward a book they love every month, with a review, and will have a bookcase of these choice delights to offer the public (and those buying online). And they asked me to be one of the bloggers! See more about it here, including the illustrious company I am in, and the book I have chosen for February. Not unrelated to the beginning of this post, actually… Oh, and even more info here.


I haven’t made my list for the year yet, I thought it would be more fun to think them up month by month. We’re allowed to choose anything old or new, popular or obscure, so long as it’s in print… what a privilege, and I do hope the initiative is a success for them – pop along and see what you think.

Stuck-in-a-Book’s Weekend Miscellany

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Hello there, hope you’re well, do take a seat and have a cup of tea. I can do normal, Earl Grey, and… er, water. More miscellany for you – and on the right day of the week as well (though I’m actually typing this on Friday – sshh, don’t tell anyone).

1.) The blog post – is a myriad wonder… featuring several posts from a fairly recent blogger who seems to be reading all the books I want to read, or re-read. Here’s one on Mariana by Monica Dickens; one on Can Any Mother Help Me? by Jenna Bailey; one on The Enchanted Places by Christopher Milne – go, enjoy, and welcome Claire aka Captive Reader to the blogosphere.

2.) The link – comes with a warning, this weekend. I found this hilarious… others were not, shall we say, ‘exceedingly diverted’. Click here to judge for yourself.

3.) The book – I don’t know if I’ve always made this obvious, but ‘the book’ section in this weekend miscellany is for books I’ve heard of, or which have come through the door, but which I haven’t read. Usually they’re ones I don’t think others will have heard about yet – but this week I’ve gone for one that I somehow missed, but hope you have heard of – White is for Witching by Helen Oyeyemi. I was very impressed by The Icarus Girl back here, and have The Opposite House on my shelves, but somehow didn’t notice that White is for Witching was published back in May 2009 – and is coming out in paperback in April, I think. Reviews aren’t great at Amazon, tis true, but I’d rather hear your views… the publishers say “A remarkable, shape-shifting tale… The narrative oscillates between the mundane and the supernatural, and it is this skilful blend of the fantastic and the everyday that makes it resonate so chillingly… In the end, this isn’t a fantasy about ghosts and witches. It is really about memory and belonging, love and loss.” Over to you…

And a little extra – I’d love contributions to this in future, if you hear any – Best Bookish Quotation of the Week. I’m not talking quotations from books, I’m talking quotations about books which you’ve said yourself, or have heard friends say. I hope my friend won’t mind me using hers – I’ll keep her anonymous until/unless she hoves over and approves…[edit: she now has, and you can find out who it is in the comments!]
“I recite my Book Depository preorders to myself at night if I’m having trouble getting to sleep!” rivalled only, this week, by my own confession to my housemate: “I once bought a book solely because I liked the smell…” If you have any others – let me know!