Indignation

I haven't read as much as I would have wanted to this year, especially in light of the dissolution of a book club to which I belonged.

However, I recently picked up Philip Roth's most recent novel Indignation, which I zipped through in less than two days.

I strongly recommend it.

Despite being 230 pages, the smaller size of the book stretches it out from a novella to a novel.

Roth is a gifted storyteller and, his haunting tale of a young Jewish man coming of age in the middle of the 20th century is certainly memorable.

Not to mention the plot element that emerges 60 pages in that causes the narrative to be seen from a whole new perspective.

I strongly recommend this tale that reminds us, repeatedly, that the smallest of decisions can have momentous effects.

***

Read Michiko Kakutani's review (spoiler alert) in The New York Times here.

Foreskin's Lament

I had heard of the book Foreksin’s Lament by Shalom Auslander, but I hadn’t really looked into it. Then a colleague of Melanie’s had recommended it to her and she, in turn, recommended it for our book club at the Bay Ridge Jewish Center.

Melanie read it first and, while discussing how much she was enjoying it, I realized I had read Auslander before, in The New Yorker. In fact, one of the sections of the book had originally appeared in the magazine in January 2007, a piece I remember reading and enjoying:

There are thirty-nine categories of work that are prohibited on the Sabbath. Category No. 37, Kindling a Fire, also rules out kindling anything electrical, including a television. It was Game Four of the Stanley Cup semifinals between the Rangers and the Washington Capitals. I had decided to switch on the television Friday afternoon and just leave it on until Sabbath ended…

Basically, the book is one man’s memoir of growing up as an Orthodox Jew, his dysfunctional family, and his own personal, very strained relationship with God. What would come off as a sad tale of disappointment and religious oppression is thwarted by Auslander’s wicked sense of humor and irreverent outlook on life. We tag along as the author battles his demons: an abusive father, a vengeful God, drugs, crime, and an ambivalent relationship with pornography.

Here are some additional links:

A Q&A from Entertainment Weekly here.

Another excerpt here.

I, along with the majority of our small book club, enjoyed the book immensely. I think it would certainly appeal more to Jews who are more familiar with the religion and culture. However, that is not to say that Non-Jews wouldn’t get anything out of it (hmm, is that sentence a triple-negative?) It’s a relatively quick read, as memoirs go. If you’re unable to motivate oneself to read it, at least give up a few minutes to view these two excerpts, delivered via the majesty of YouTube:

Part 1-


Part 2-

Scouts in Bondage

I picked up Scouts in Bondage; And Other Violations of Literary Propriety at the local library. It’s fluffy, quick reading that will provoke a smile or two. Basically, it was compiled by a British bookseller, and consists of covers of antiquarian books that, transplanted into the 21st Century, raise eyebrows. Insert your innuendo here. A dirty mind helps.

Want to learn Welsh in a Week? Or see How Nell Scored?

Well, with a few exceptions, your journey ends at the cover depicted on the page. We get a few sneak peaks at the contents of some tomes, like the first eight chapter titles of Invisible Dick (Chapter III – Porker Puzzled, for example).
And then, this is decidedly British in its slant. I’m sure Totty: The Truth About Ten Mysterious Terms and The Captains Bunk; A Story for Boys has them slightly more giddy across the pond.

Now we just need to wait for the inevitable American version to grace our shelves.

Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows

Bloody brilliant.

Talk Talk

T. Coraghessan Boyle is one of my favorite writers.

He is a master craftsman in the world of fiction. Boyle has a loyal following but skirts the mainstream. He is immensely talented, and prolific. I have read all of his novels, and am a couple of volumes shy of reading all of his short story collections.

For previous BillyBlog posts about Mr. Boyle, go here (a pic of T.C. and me) and here (#6 on my favorite books list).


Last Thursday I finished Boyle's last novel Talk Talk. Incidentally, when I announced to Melanie that I was ready for the new Harry Potter book because I had "just finished the Boyle," Shayna squeamishly asked, "Ewww, Daddy, you had a boil?"

Click here for a brief introduction and an excerpt from the official T.C. Boyle page.


Boyle writes compellingly, creating characters that are memorable and cinematic. Only one of his books, The Road to Wellville, has been made into a film. It fared poorly at the box office, which I think has caused Hollywood to balk at producing more of his work. His novel The Tortilla Curtain is just one of his books to have had its film rights optioned. Apparently the project never came to fruition.






Talk Talk is about identity theft and the impact it has on the life of the ordinary person. But it goes deeper than that, and delves into the idea of identity. It is no coincidence that one of the main characters works at a CGI special effects lab, painstakingly altering each frame of film by computer to alter the appearances of the actors therein.



I had a slight problem with a significant plot device that propelled the narrative earlier on. A character tracks down the identity thief, or at least gets a lead, after a cell phone company calls about a past due bill. The whole process of the call, the demeanor of the cell phone company representative, the threats he makes, and the sheer fact that the customer is being called and harassed about a payment while the phone in question is still operational, all rang untrue to me. Granted, in fiction, the reader is asked to take a leap of faith. But knowing the collection industry, this incongruity with reality bothered me when it happened, and dogged me to the end of the book.


I still enjoyed the story and the way it was told, but I would have liked it much more had Boyle come up with a more convincing method to propel the narrative.

T.C. Boyle writes darkly, and he gives even the most villainous characters compelling back stories that stir the reader's sympathies. This skill, along with his ability to not end a book neatly, but leave the reader wondering, is what I like about his fiction. He is definitely not a "happily ever after" writer. As in life, loose ends are rarely dispatched neatly.


My mother-in-law told me that she thought this was Boyle's most accessible book. I tend to agree, although I wouldn't want anyone to forgo reading other work by him.


Check out his website and explore the world of T. Coraghessan Boyle.

For a positive review of the book, go here. Other reviews can be found here.

Fortieth Birthday Post #6: Out Stealing Horses

When the Papercuts blog first appeared, I gobbled it up. BillyBlog readers benefited/suffered as a result.

It was on said web log that I first saw mention of Per Petterson's Out Stealing Horses, which had just won an international fiction prize and was relatively unheralded here in the States.

I quickly reserved a copy at the library and grabbed the book when it arrived.

It's a wonderful story set in the twilight of an aging Norwegian man's life. The protagonist, Trond, moves back and forth between three periods of time. The present finds an older narrator struggling to adapt to a life of isolation on the Swedish-Norwegian border.

He flashes back to an earlier time when, when he was 15, and just becoming a man. A series of events involving timber, a tragic accident, and a boyhood escapade, weave together to form a tapestry of a life on the tipping point.

Through a neighbor, Trond also learns of his father's involvement in the Resistance during World War II. All three storylines come together to form a riveting tale, wonderfully narrated and described beautifully. The Norwegian countryside is a character in itself.

I'm posting this as part of my birthday series because I just finished the book yesterday and am carrying one of his earlier novels with me now, the novel In the Wake.

So it seems fitting, no?

This novel really deserves more than what I have given it here, so do check it out.

New York Times Book Review by Thomas McGuane

The first chapter, courtesy of the NY Times, again.

Reading Binge: Pacific Rim, Part 3, or After Dark by Haruki Murakami

Before I get to down to business, let me just say that the U.S. publisher has once again won the competition for most boring dustjacket. And the U.S. cover is designed by Chip Kidd, no less, which makes it even more surprising. Better examples follow.


The Pacific Rim Reading Binge Pendulum swings back to Asia, as I just finished the latest novel from the other, more famous Murakami, Haruki. After Dark was a quick read, and it is vintage Murakami.

I have purposely avoided reviews, but I have a google alert set for him, so every day I see a line or two from various outlets, and the reviews, or the promises of reviews seem to be positive.

This novel is also next up in the book club of the Bay Ridge Jewish Center, and Melanie read this ahead of me, her first experience with Murakami. I won't speak entirely for her, but I am pleased to report that she enjoyed the book and has indicated an interest in reading more of his work.

Anyway, After Dark, is a brief snapshot of a stretch of early morning night life in a Japanese city - our central character is a young girl name Mari who, through a series of typical Murakami encounters, crosses paths with a young musician, which propels the narrative forward smoothly along the wheels of night.

There is a plot involving a love hotel, its former female wrestler manager, a Chinese prostitute, and her client.

All very normal, but these events run parallel with the surreal. This is a Murakami novel, after all.

The narrator doubles as a film director, in a sense, painting a scene of a woman sleeping in a room. I'll go out on a limb and state that Murakami has made a woman sleeping alone in a bed more interesting than any writer before him.

Of course, this is an oversimplification. However, Murakami takes this bizarre reality-blurring sleeping/waking woman, and weaves her into the main plot with mastery and intrigue.

Questions are raised and, as dawn approaches, along with the end of the book, the reader realizes that many questions will go unanswered.

The final page comes and there is an aftertaste of frustration, a desire unfulfilled to get more of these characters, this world, this reality. I must say that this is not a new sensation for the avid Haruki Murakami fan, but we are used to it by now. It's like Sandy Koufax retiring at the height of his career. You realize he could have gone on and succeeded more, you wish he had, but then you understand why he stopped, and can't blame him for his choice. You are left with a feeling of lingering admiration.

And this Post-Murakami-Novel syndrome leaves you with pleasing aftereffects - you think about the book, and it continues to haunt you, or at least forces you to take pause and wonder, and marvel, at the significance of the journey you've just taken.

Very few writers accomplish that sensation as well as Haruki Murakami.

I still wonder about my favorite Murakaim novel, Hard-Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World, and the constant affirmation I receive from other fans that this too is their favorite novel (see this prior post here for more).

After Dark is not Murakami's best, but its still pretty damn good. A cool drink on a hot summer evening. Refreshing enough to cleanse the palette. Delicious enough to make you want more.

Some assorted reviews:

Review in the L.A. Times here.

And in the New York Times here.

Reading Binge: Pacific Rim, Part 1, or Piercing by Ryu Murakami

So, before we begin, let me ask, which country published the book with the more disturbing cover?

The U.S.:


or the U.K.?


The U.K. cover is actually more true to the book, but enough about that....

There's an incredible feeling of accomplishment in finishing a book. I'm sure that this is a universal sentiment.

I mentioned in my post about the Mailer book that I had not completed anything recently. I finished that one last Tuesday. I just amazed myself by blowing through not one, but two more novels (albeit short ones) in four days.

The first one, for this post, is Piercing by Ryu Murakami, a Japanese writer unrelated to the more famous Haruki Murakami. Haruki is tops on my list of favorite writers. Ryu, not so much. Nonetheless, I still thought highly enough of him to pick up this latest novel without any planning or forethought.

I often will grab books at the library, keep them to read, and return them unmolested by my fickle, discriminating eyes. Sometimes I will even support the library by paying fines on books I ended up not reading. Such is the way of the BillyBrain.

And so it might have gone with Piercing, but I was fresh off the Mailer, basking in a post-biblio-coital aura, and I devoured it in one, two, two-and- a-half days. It was short (192 pages), disturbing, and absolutely riveting.

My history with the lesser of the Murakamis is interesting. I remember reading the unsettling debut novel Almost Transparent Blue, which won Japan's prestigous Akutagawa Prize in 1976. I can even place when I read the bulk of it: in New Orleans in June 2004. I was at a convention and read most of the novel while riding the stationary bicycle in the Hilton's gym. Shortly thereafter I read In the Miso Soup, which was also very good. But shortly thereafter I embarked on his sophomore effort, 1980's Coin Locker Babies. Somewhere in the middle I stopped reading it. I can't pinpoint why.

Let me lay it out on the line, Ryu (or Haruki too, for that matter) Murakami is not for everyone. He is less of a literary media darling than Haruki, as his books are more of the psychothriller genre. I'm generally not a big fan of psychothrillers, but Ryu is a cut above those with whom I am familiar.

His protagonists are damaged goods. They bear the psychological scars and baggage of being raised in late-20th century Japan. They come from broken homes and have impressive résumés of abuse and anger management issues.

These are bloody, disturbing books.

Like his previous works, Piercing delves into the world of illicit sexual lifestyles, and not necessarily in a titillating fashion. There is no sexual intercourse between the covers of Piercing, but human sexuality, and the unsettling variations on sex are core elements to the narrative.

Ultimately, this book is about violence. How sexual violence begets more violence. How abuse in childhood manifests itself in the lives of adults who bear the scars of that abuse.

The lives of the two main characters, Kawashima Masayuki, an ad-man in a seemingly vanilla marriage, and a young female S&M sex worker named Sanada Chiaki, intersect along the narrative arc.

The book opens with the Masayuki hovering over his new baby's crib, with his wife sleeping nearby. He is holding an ice pick and fighting his demons.

He concocts a plan to exorcise these demons, which brings Sanada Chiaki into his life.

We are not just told what is happening. We see inside the minds of these two disturbed products of a seemingly normal society.

Knowing what I have just related may be seriously off-putting to most. I did say that Piercing is not for everyone. From the get-go, however, as I swallowed the tension of the potential harm to the baby in the opening pages, I was drawn in and riveted.

I was disturbed by this narrative, but in a much different way than Mailer's manifestation of the young Adolf Hitler. Yet, I shook off the chill that the final scene of Piercing had sent down my spine, and I took a breath. I realized that Murakami had transported me to a dark, dark place. But now I was blinking in the sunlight, thankful for those things in life we may take for granted. This amazing writer's words tingled in my extremities, drawing me into a dark landscape, pinning me into a harrowing tale that pierced my imagination with tiny burning needles.

Some links:

A review in the Guardian here.

A review in the L.A. Times here. (Registration required)

The Castle in the Forest by Norman Mailer

Well, it's been a while since I completed a full book. Not sure when was the last, it's too embarrassing to guess, but it may have been when Rick Santorum was still in office.

Even with the Bay Ridge Jewish Center's book club, I haven't been that successful in completing a book.

So I was pleased, with six stops on the R train before 77th Street (the BRJC stop), I finished Norman Mailer's The Castle in the Forest, just in time for Book Club.

Of course, a little back story here. Trust me, just a little. I have limited experience with Mailer. I do remember trying to read The Executioner's Song while in high school. I have no recollection of what possessed me to the 1000+ page volume about the killer Gary Gilmore, but I tried. I gave up somewhere between page 75 and 180. In the Spring of 1988, I read Why Are We in Vietnam? in Eric Newhall's Contemporary American Literature course at Occidental College. It was shorter, and it was better. I had warmed back up to him. Well, sort of.

I may have read snippets here and there, but The Castle in the Forest is the latest Mailer novel that I attempted, and completed.

I've met Mailer twice at book signings. First it was at a Brentano's in Century City Shopping Center in West L.A. He was touring to promote his Jesus novel The Gospel According to the Sun. Pal Brian was there and I learned a great lesson from the Master. Despite the 2-book limit per customer, Brian got a whole stack of books signed, at least six, but quite possibly more. His key: engage the author and don't break eye contact. Perhaps discuss something controversial or something you know the author holds dear. They become engaged in the discussion and lose count of the number of books they're signing. Bookstore staff are likely to intervene only if they think the author is being bothered. I can't remember what Brian and Mailer talked about, but I remember Mailer referring to a female critic as a "bitch".

It was at this event that I think he signed my hardcover 1st edition of Why Are We in Vietnam? I could be wrong, but I think I'm not.

Next time I saw Mr. Mailer was a few years later, after I had moved to New York, in 1997. This time the setting was larger and more esteemed: the Barnes & Noble flagship store in Union Square. Mailer was promoting the anthologized collection The Time of Our Time, a 1286-page behemoth that came pre-signed on a tipped-in page. The cover even touted the volume as "a signed first edition". When I got up to Mailer on the dais after the reading, he added a "To Bill Cohen, Cheers" above his signature

and then also signed a copy of his Picasso biography for me.











But enough of that stuff, let's talk about The Castle in the Forest.

I purposely have not read any reviews so as to color my opinion of the book. So, I decided to approach my "review" of this with a different approach. I'm going to list 3 things I liked, and 3 things I didn't like about the book, and that will hopefully shed some illumination on the novel.

First and foremost, I want to give this book a BillyBlog recommendation. I enjoyed it thoroughly and felt it was a great accomplishment from a writer who can still amaze with his narrative skills. I was intrigued throughout the novel, all the way to the end of the book.

#1 Thing I Liked: The book is about the early life of Adolf Hitler and his family, a fascinating subject, but is narrated in such a way that the main characters aren't completely abhorrent. The reader spends the time observing this family and regarding it in a historical context. Why did Hitler turn out the way he did? We get clues and hints, but Mailer, for the most part, doesn't club you over the head with obvious incidents that foreshadow future events. There is subtlety here.

#2 Thing I Liked: The narrative itself. The voice behind the story is a devil, working to shape the historic events ahead through a subtle manipulation of the characters. So we are not presented with a linear historical narrative of the rise and demise of the Hitler family. Instead, we have a textured story that meanders between the main subjects and the back room workings of the evil-doing industry.

#3 Thing I Liked: The Apiarian Angle. The book is not so much about Adolf Hitler, but about the family of Alois Hitler. And Alois dabbled in beekeeping. The story gets a big section devoted to the Hitler family's dabbling in beekeeping, and Alois, the patriarch, spends a considerable amount of time working to make this venture a success. It's really quite interesting and whether intentional, or not (and I'm guessing it was), the reader cannot help wondering what kind of impression the "hive mentality" had on the future machinations of the Third Reich. The old man, "Der Alte", to whom Alois goes to for apiarian advice, is a fascinating character that lends a pungent texture to the story.

Now, for the things that I didn't like:

#1 Issue: Although I may have been expecting a more abrupt ending, based on the warnings of Melanie and her mother, who also read the book, the story did run out of steam a bit suddenly, almost as if Mailer had grown bored with the subject matter and moved on. Perhaps that's a bit unfair, but it's how I felt.

#2 Issue: Mentioned earlier was the fact that the book was more about Alois, Hitler's father, than about little "Adi," as he is known in his childhood. Because he is such a larger-than-life historical figure, the reader may feel cheated that the whole story is not being told. The one case where more Adolph may have been better, at least just for the story's sake.

#3 Issue: Incest. Although I "get" why it's a central element in the story, I would have preferred less of a focus on it. I realize that this is significantly unreasonable on my part. It's an essential piece of the Mailer-Hitler puzzle, but the story could have been just as good, and just as compelling, in my opinion, had the thread of incest not been woven so deeply into the plot.

So, there you have it, folks. An impromptu, informal review of sorts. I kind of like that format: 3 good, 3 bad.

Overall, a good book, and a BillyBlog-recommended read.

Here's a few other opinions:

"This remarkable novel about the young Adolf Hitler, his family and their shifting circumstances, is Mailer’s most perfect apprehension of the absolutely alien. No wonder it is narrated by a devil. Mailer doesn’t inhabit these historical figures so much as possess them."

--Lee Siegel, in The New York Times, full review here

"On the last page Mailer reveals the meaning of his book's title. Translated into German it becomes Walderschloss, a name given to their hell-hole by the inmates of the concentration camp at Dachau. This unforgettable novel by a master of prose reinforces the belief that we kid ourselves if we lay the blame for hideous crimes on one single individual, even if it is the devil. We are all culpable."

--Beryl Bainbridge in the Guardian, full review here

and this negative one, very negative, from Ruth Franklin in The New Republic:

"Nearly five hundred of the most revolting pages in recent American fiction...How could a writer as intelligent and original as Norman Mailer have digested this library of books and returned with the superficial, twisted, and finally just plain stupid vision of Hitler in this novel?"

Well, I'll leave you with this bit from Nobel Laureate, J.M. Coetzee, in the New York Review of Books (full review here):

Blessedly, The Castle in the Forest does not demand to be read at face value....
By invoking the supernatural, he may seem to assert that the forces animating Adolf Hitler were more than merely criminal; yet the young Adolf he brings to life on these pages is not satanic, not even demonic, simply a nasty piece of work. Keeping the paradox infernal–banal alive in all its anguishing inscrutability may be the ultimate achievement of this very considerable contribution to historical fiction.