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Recently Finished:
As She Climbed Across the Table by Jonathan Lethem -- A literary science fiction novel about instantiated Lacanian theory, I think, except I have not read enough Lacan to be certain. It was very strange and satisfying in that way of something I do not really understand that I am certain has actual meaning; I did not enjoy it in most of the usual ways I enjoy novels, but I feel like I stretched something in my mind while reading it. This was my first Lethem, and I will look for more.
The Cranes Dance by Meg Howrey -- A first-person novel about a ballet dancer in New York, young but not so young as she once was, damaged and funny and struggling. I loved everything about it, almost inexplicably; some of it is that Kate's humour is very much mine, and some of it is that I just love books which go into detail about the work of doing art -- there is a lot in here about rehearsal and gesturing and the actual ballets and I could probably have read Howrey's cynical/loving descriptions of ballet plots for an entire book.
Reading Now:
Far Afield by Shane Mitchell, about travelling to fairly remote places, getting to know people there, and eating the food. There are beautiful photographs and some of the recipes look tempting.
D. E. Stevenson's Miss Buncle Married which... well, I remembered that I did not really like Stevenson very much, but I couldn't think of why, and now I am starting to remember -- she is just so ridiculous about other human beings. Is it because she keeps dipping into farce rather than realistic fiction? Is it because she really does think that perfect women are 'nature's fools' who are oblivious to all social undercurrents but wins everyone over by her implacable ignorance because they are just So Very Nice? I am enjoying it enough to keep reading it but I don't know that I will read any more.
Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong is poetry, and thus far mostly not the sort of poetry I like, but I am going on with it slowly, trying to figure out what it is I think. I wish I knew how to characterise the sort of poetry I do like; there ought to be an Every Noise at Once for poets, where one can type in the poet's name and get a list of their genres and then click through on the genres and find other similar poets -- but of course poetry is not such a mass thing that there are granular sub-genres like music.
Next Up:
Eat My Words: Reading Women's Lives Through the Cookbooks They Wrote by Janet Theophano -- a book on paper, so I must get it read so it can go back to the library!
A Traveller in Time by Allison Uttley, which I have owned forever and am finally going to read properly.
I am not certain I will continue doing posts like this on Wednesdays -- it feels so artificial -- but I have given it a try at the least.
As She Climbed Across the Table by Jonathan Lethem -- A literary science fiction novel about instantiated Lacanian theory, I think, except I have not read enough Lacan to be certain. It was very strange and satisfying in that way of something I do not really understand that I am certain has actual meaning; I did not enjoy it in most of the usual ways I enjoy novels, but I feel like I stretched something in my mind while reading it. This was my first Lethem, and I will look for more.
The Cranes Dance by Meg Howrey -- A first-person novel about a ballet dancer in New York, young but not so young as she once was, damaged and funny and struggling. I loved everything about it, almost inexplicably; some of it is that Kate's humour is very much mine, and some of it is that I just love books which go into detail about the work of doing art -- there is a lot in here about rehearsal and gesturing and the actual ballets and I could probably have read Howrey's cynical/loving descriptions of ballet plots for an entire book.
Reading Now:
Far Afield by Shane Mitchell, about travelling to fairly remote places, getting to know people there, and eating the food. There are beautiful photographs and some of the recipes look tempting.
D. E. Stevenson's Miss Buncle Married which... well, I remembered that I did not really like Stevenson very much, but I couldn't think of why, and now I am starting to remember -- she is just so ridiculous about other human beings. Is it because she keeps dipping into farce rather than realistic fiction? Is it because she really does think that perfect women are 'nature's fools' who are oblivious to all social undercurrents but wins everyone over by her implacable ignorance because they are just So Very Nice? I am enjoying it enough to keep reading it but I don't know that I will read any more.
Night Sky With Exit Wounds by Ocean Vuong is poetry, and thus far mostly not the sort of poetry I like, but I am going on with it slowly, trying to figure out what it is I think. I wish I knew how to characterise the sort of poetry I do like; there ought to be an Every Noise at Once for poets, where one can type in the poet's name and get a list of their genres and then click through on the genres and find other similar poets -- but of course poetry is not such a mass thing that there are granular sub-genres like music.
Next Up:
Eat My Words: Reading Women's Lives Through the Cookbooks They Wrote by Janet Theophano -- a book on paper, so I must get it read so it can go back to the library!
A Traveller in Time by Allison Uttley, which I have owned forever and am finally going to read properly.
I am not certain I will continue doing posts like this on Wednesdays -- it feels so artificial -- but I have given it a try at the least.
