Shelley, Bigsby, Porter, Verne

Since my last post, I've read two issues of The New Yorker, three issues of Eclectic Reading, an issue of The Economist, an issue of The New Scientist, and an issue of The Globe.

I also read a biography of Mary Shelley which was about context and work rather than life. I was disappointed, but as the author pointed out, there are lots of other biographies out there.I then read a biography of Katherine Ann Porter. What was most interesting there was the fact that she mythologized her own life. It was already so tumultuous is seems pointless to gild the lily, but that is what she did. I also read a biography of Jules Verne, whose main characteristic was a bourgeois-class way of life. Finally, I read a wonderful discussion of the representation of the Holocaust in literature, by Christopher Bigsby. It was subtle, and thoughtful.

Ayn Rand, Katherine Mansfield

Well, I spent the day reading Atlas Shrugged, and I liked it even less than The Fountainhead. Bad writing, bad character names, improbable plot twists, poor psychology of characters, poor philosophical content. It is still selling well, but I don't expect these books will survive much longer.

I also read a couple of Harlequins in French, because Tony picked up French books at random for me, and a book by Flaubert I had already read, and then I read a biography of Katherine Mansfield by Jeffrey Meyers which haunts me because of her sad, early death from tuberculosis. The thought of the hemorrhages, the constricted chest, the weight loss, the ineffectual cure, the exploitative charlatan treatments, all this in poverty. I also read an unintentionally hilarious novel, Unknown to History, by A Lady, about a fictional daughter of Mary Queen of Scots born during the English captivity. It was slight, but it was real researched. The edition I was holding was itself was 120 years old, and the book had been mentioned in my favorite biography of Mary, by Antonia Fraser.

Amery, Dryden, Atkins, Rand

Since my last post I've read an issue of The Economist and The New Scientist, three issues of Eclectic Reading.

I've also read three collections of Jean Amery's essays, completing a reading of his works. I have concluded the poor soul suffered from depression, on top of having survived Gestapo torture and two concentration camps. I found his essay on suicide profoundly shocking, in the sense of a baring of a suicidal person's soul.

I have also read Atkin's four volumes on Sex and Literature. Two observations stand out. The first is that shame did not enter the description of sex until the reign of Elizabeth the First. The second (and talk about words I'd never thought I'd write) is that any sort of anal sex has been considered shocking or unusual since Antiquity. My vocabulary is expanded, of course, and you'd think it would be impossible for this topic to get boring, but after over 1400 pages, yes, it did lose my interest. At times, I got bored with the catalog of less common practices -- if I wanted kink, I'd read Krafft-Ebbing, and I deliberately don't. However, Atkins is without peer for wit and lack of stuffiness among academics, and it was refreshing and amusing to read his innumerable asides. I was interested to find that Lesbia was actually a older married woman who seduced Catullus, the only good love poet among the Romans. That is not what one associates with her name.

I then decided to read Ayn Rand's The Fountainhead, since it was mentioned by Eva Mendes in OK Magazine, my bible. It was as I expected: a long defence of artistic integrity vindicated in the end, but badly written, misogynist, and utilitarian towards the environment. That being said, I'm going to read Atlas Shrugged next.

Finally I read Dryden and His World, and it did go on forever.

Garnett, Boswell, Amery

Since my last post I've read an issue each of The New Yorker, Vanity Fair, Psychology Today, Gentleman's Quarterly, Utne Reader, two issues each of The Economist, Hello Canada, The New Scientist, and OK Magazine, and four issues of Eclectic Reading.

I've also finished the biography of that boor, Boswell, and read the biography of Edward Garnett. Both were excellent, Garnett's was a little boring. I mean, the guy spent his life reading and discussing literature with very eminent people: Joseph Conrad, John Galsworthy to name only two. The biography was by George Jefferson.

I also read Amery's essays in At the Mind's Limit. They are really discouraging to read, since he is a pessimist and, I would say, a man whose hope was broken, broken by torture and Auschwitz, of course, but broken nonetheless. He remained a victim, however understandable that is. Primo Levi, for example, is quite different in tone.

Agee, Ocampo

Since my last post, I've read two issues of Eclectic Reading, one issue each of Vanity Fair, Hello Canada, The New Yorker, OK Magazine, and The Economist.

I also read a biography of James Agee, which focused far too much on his sexuality, and a biography of Victoria Ocampo, which was very interesting although not insightful. I have two volumes of Jean Amery's essays, but I'm wondering whether I should read them at this point in my life.

Galsworthy, Borges

Since my last post I've read a biography of Jorge Luis Borges, and a biography of John Galsworthy.

The biography of Borges was written by Emir Monegal, a Urugayan personally acquainted with Borges. I found his biography more interesting for the asides on Argentine culture, than for the life itself, which was pretty uneventful. It made me realize that I don't yet get Latin America. I've read histories of it, read all of Borges, Llosa, Marquez, and the Latin American literary renaissance, about twenty books on the Maya, and I haven't figured out the place after spending almost a month there. I got East Asia quite quickly, I think, but then it is unified by Confucianism. Is Latin America not unified by Catholicism, which I know far better than Confucianism? Possibly it is less monolithic, as Southeast Asia is less monolithic than East Asia. Anyway, I loved the play. Just like in the US, no one thinks I'm pushy, in Latin America, no one thinks I'm Intense.

As for Galsworthy, it appears his writing was poisoned by success, fame and respectability. "An artist often flourishes in adversity, and his talent withers when there is nothing for him to kick against." Is it adversity itself that is essential, or the probing and examination that comes with it? Should I be thankful for my lack of recognition in the nonfiction sphere? I also read that Galsworthy's nature was to spoil and pamper his loved one, Ada. I certainly recognized the nature of my own partner there.

Jean de Beer on Montherlant

Since my last post, I read an issue of the Utne Reader.

I have also read de Beer's eponymous book on Montherlant. It's a fascinating experiment, where the publishers commissioned both a book on Montherlant, and then asked Montherlant himself to engage in a dialogue with the author examining his life. It was doomed from the start, of course, the French intellectual community is not so large, and anyway the dialogue was part of the objective of the series. But it was interesting to see de Beer at the top of the page, and Montherlant opining on his own life or work at the bottom. I couldn't have done it, myself.

Macdonald, Bode, Murat, Ehrman

Since my last post, I've read an issue of The New Yorker.

I read Ehrman's biography of Mme du Chatelet, which I found very interesting. A woman who translated and commented Newton -- helps that she was rich. Murat wrote a biography of a salonniere, Mme du Deffand, who went blind in her 40s. I have never heard of her, and it seems she suffered from depression her whole life. I also read a mediocre, trite biography of H.L. Mencken, by Carl Bode. Finally, I just finished a book on Monk Lewis by E. Macdonald. Everyone I read about, it seems, died young.

Marmontel, Harding

Since my last post, I've read two issues of The Economist, an issue of Eclectic Reading, and an issue of Hello Canada.

I read Marmontel's Memoires. I thought they were inadvertently funny about how everything, right down to the French Revolution, is about him, and how well Voltaire thought of him. I thought the most interesting part was his interactions with Voltaire, and all the catty things Voltaire said about Rousseau. Gotta love those literary feuds.

I also read, but didn't much like Tinkers by Paul Harding. It was written in reverse chronological order, which is uncommon, and the style was good, but it failed to engage me.