tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post6885951704009808911..comments2024-03-29T03:04:00.853-05:00Comments on Wuthering <br>Expectations: Annie Dillard discombobulates my equilibriumAmateur Reader (Tom)http://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comBlogger17125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-46867747739927165782014-11-11T14:29:35.868-06:002014-11-11T14:29:35.868-06:00Cortazar, Fuentes and Coover, three wonderful writ...Cortazar, Fuentes and Coover, three wonderful writers. Here's a little Cortazar to get you started, Continuity of the parks:<br /><br />HE HAD BEGUN TO READ THE NOVEL a few days before. He had put it aside because of some urgent business, opened it again on his way back to the estate by train; he allowed himself a slowly growing interest in the plot, in the drawing of characters. That afternoon, after writing a letter to his agent and discussing with the manager of his estate a matter of joint ownership, he returned to the book in the tranquility of his study which looked out upon the park with its oaks. Sprawled in his favorite armchair, with his back to the door, which would otherwise have bothered him as an irritating possibility for intrusions, he let his left hand caress once and again the green velvet upholstery and set to reading the final chapters. Without effort his memory retained the names and images of the protagonists; the illusion took hold of him almost at once. He tasted the almost perverse pleasure of disengaging himself line by line from all that surrounded him, and feeling at the same time that his head was relaxing comfortably against the green velvet of the armchair with its high back, that the cigarettes were still within reach of his hand, that beyond the great windows the afternoon air danced under the oak trees in the park. Word by word, immersed in the sordid dilemma of the hero and heroine, letting himself go toward where the images came together and took on color and movement, he was witness to the final encounter in the mountain cabin. The woman arrived first, apprehensive; now the lover came in, his face cut by the backlash of a branch. Admirably she stanched the blood with her kisses, but he rebuffed her caresses, he had not come to repeat the ceremonies of a secret passion, protected by a world of dry leaves and furtive paths through the forest. The hatchet warmed itself against his chest, and underneath pounded liberty, ready to spring. A lustful, yearning dialogue raced down the pages like a rivulet of snakes, and one felt it had all been decided from eternity. Even those caresses which writhed about the lover's body, as though wishing to keep him there, to dissuade him from it, sketched abominably the figure of that other body it was necessary to destroy. Nothing had been forgotten: alibis, unforeseen hazards, possible mistakes. From this hour on, each instant had its use minutely assigned. The cold-blooded, double re-examination of the details was barely interrupted for a hand to caress a cheek. It was beginning to get dark.<br /><br />Without looking at each other now, rigidly fixed upon the task which awaited them, they separated at the cabin door. She was to follow the trail that led north. On the path leading in the opposite direction, he turned for a moment to watch her running with her hair let loose. He ran in turn, crouching among the trees and hedges until he could distinguish in the yellowish fog of dusk the avenue of trees leading up to the house. The dogs were not supposed to bark, and they did not bark. The estate manager would not be there at this hour, and he was not. He went up the three porch steps and entered. Through the blood galloping in his ears came the woman's words: first a blue parlor, then a gallery, then a carpeted stairway. At the top, two doors. No one in the first bedroom, no one in the second. The door of the salon, and then, the small axe in his hand, the light from the great windows, the high back of an armchair covered in green velvet, the head of the man in the chair reading a novel.<br />Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-82617886004401232011-05-15T22:25:58.609-05:002011-05-15T22:25:58.609-05:00Thanks for the encouragement and suggestions, Amat...Thanks for the encouragement and suggestions, Amateur Reader and Obooki. Anything you can now do to get me some paid time off from work for some extra reading time chez moi?Richardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01746599416342846897noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-3893943672417314602011-05-15T21:53:11.119-05:002011-05-15T21:53:11.119-05:00Perusal of a list of Robbe-Grillet titles suggests...Perusal of a list of Robbe-Grillet titles suggests that the other novel I liked was <i>In the Labyrinth</i>, and one I strongly disliked was <i>Djinn</i>, but I remember absolutely nothing about either one, so what a useful exercise that was.<br /><br />To make up for this, I will link to a recent enthusiastic piece, <a href="http://readywhenyouarecb.blogspot.com/2011/04/topology-of-phantom-city-by-alain-robbe.html" rel="nofollow">written by C.B. James</a>, about a Robbe-Grillet novel I don't know, <i>Topology of a Phantom City</i>.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-18620852116141872602011-05-14T20:13:11.956-05:002011-05-14T20:13:11.956-05:00Richard: Though I hesitate to use such publisher-s...Richard: Though I hesitate to use such publisher-speak, if you like Juan José Saer, then you'll love Alain Robbe-Grillet. They inhabit the same sort of planet, though Juan José Saer is - from what I've read - a bit more varied in his subject-matter; Robbe-Grillet a bit more perplexing and perhaps ever so slightly better written.obookihttp://www.mjiles.com/obookispage/noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-6816890500898085782011-05-13T21:41:05.090-05:002011-05-13T21:41:05.090-05:00Richard: Robbe-Grillet is an icy writer. He wrot...Richard: Robbe-Grillet is an icy writer. He wrote puzzle novels. There certainly <i>is</i> a dullness in his work - he sometimes sets up patterns and repeats them with slight variations - but this can create a paradoxically exciting aesthetic effect.<br /><br />I can easily recommend <i>The Erasers</i> (a mock mystery, or a real one), <i>The Voyeur</i> (untrue crime), <i>Jealousy</i> (a good short taste of R-G), and - I'm forgetting one I liked a lot.<br /><br />His manifesto, <i>For a New Novel</i>, is essential mid-century litcrit, but I don't know how many people are in that market, so to speak.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-3532991729448514832011-05-13T21:30:14.662-05:002011-05-13T21:30:14.662-05:00One more comment to repair, from Richard:
As some...One more comment to repair, from <a href="http://caravanaderecuerdos.blogspot.com/" rel="nofollow">Richard</a>:<br /><br />As someone who wants to read Robbe-Grillet at some point soon (causal link: the Argentine Juan José Saer, whose works I greatly enjoy, is often mentioned in connection with Robbe-Grillet and the nouveau roman movement), I am much more reassured by Vince's remarks about him than by Dillard's! Other than that, this work sounds intriguing...although I must confess that my only experience with Dillard is not yet reading a book of hers that was given to me as a present about 5 or 6 years back. The TBR gods can be cruel to writers like that.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-18321523306578716012011-05-13T17:39:25.339-05:002011-05-13T17:39:25.339-05:00Maybe. Or polite, pitying silence about my deriva...Maybe. Or polite, pitying silence about my derivative ideas.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-41409689815333319882011-05-13T16:24:01.127-05:002011-05-13T16:24:01.127-05:00Maybe because you read so much, we thought you'...Maybe because you read so much, we thought you'd already read it?Jennyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00251983804060081813noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-67067773211291780972011-05-12T09:36:04.534-05:002011-05-12T09:36:04.534-05:00As someone who wants to read Robbe-Grillet at some...As someone who wants to read Robbe-Grillet at some point soon (causal link: the Argentine Juan José Saer, whose works I greatly enjoy, is often mentioned in connection with Robbe-Grillet and the <em>nouveau roman</em> movement), I am much more reassured by Vince's remarks about him than by Dillard's! Other than that, this work sounds intriguing...although I must confess that my only experience with Dillard is not yet reading a book of hers that was given to me as a present about 5 or 6 years back. The TBR gods can be cruel to writers like that.Richardhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01746599416342846897noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-22298290439425234012011-05-11T11:15:42.318-05:002011-05-11T11:15:42.318-05:00You're allowed to read uncritically
Oh no I&#...<i>You're allowed to read uncritically</i><br /><br />Oh no I'm not! I won't call it reading, at least. Time-killing, maybe. Critical reading is <i>far more</i> enjoyable than uncritical reading.<br /><br /><i>custom-made</i><br /><br />That's a good point - why had no one told me about this book? Why has no one said, "That sounds a lot like something Annie Dillard wrote"?Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-4884170080954096732011-05-11T10:17:40.700-05:002011-05-11T10:17:40.700-05:00With a title like that, I had to come over. Tut t...With a title like that, I had to come over. Tut tut. You're allowed to read and enjoy, uncritically, once in a while! Especially a piece that seems custom made just for you. <br /><br />Me, on the other hand, I've only ever read two of those authors in The List and now actively avoid at least one of those.Mariekehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13251172733432029106noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-27771561836003875222011-05-10T16:57:13.754-05:002011-05-10T16:57:13.754-05:00an exciting, heady time
I'll bet. That was a...<i>an exciting, heady time</i><br /><br />I'll bet. That was a great period for the novel, experimental and traditional, European and American.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-59397085708164636182011-05-10T12:06:23.355-05:002011-05-10T12:06:23.355-05:00Hi A.R.
Thanks for the clarification on Dillard’...Hi A.R. <br /><br />Thanks for the clarification on Dillard’s opinion of Alain Robbe-Grillet. When I read the <i>“Erasers”</i> in 1963 it was like a bomb going off in my head. I thought I had discovered him! <br /><br />I quickly read all the <i>Roman Nuveau</i> novels I could discover in the base library. I was in the military and stationed overseas. This was an exciting, heady time, and anything but dull. Robbe-Grillet was a gateway author to me.<br /><br />VinceVincehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12707773426729777989noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-84701701531260103652011-05-09T21:25:14.207-05:002011-05-09T21:25:14.207-05:00Dillard actual argument is: literature has meaning...Dillard actual argument is: literature has meaning, <i>therefore</i> the world has meaning.<br /><br />Based on the way Dillard refers to Robbe-Grillet elsewhere in the book, I suspect that the word "dull" is an obscure joke. Another way that Dillard is like me - never pass up a joke, even if no one else understands it.<br /><br />Jenny - this is the only thing by Dillard I have read. I was expecting something rather different, rather more challenging - meaning, challenging the way I read, instead of continually reinforcing it!<br /><br />That's a polite way you have there to describe what I do, which is what Dillard does, when I don't bother to explain something - assume the reader keeps her eyes open. Actually, I assume the reader can use Google, an option Dillard did not have. <br /><br />I suspect that many readers, good readers, will react more like Nana. The names - books, writers, painters - come on pretty thick.Amateur Reader (Tom)https://www.blogger.com/profile/13675275555757408496noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-32750917013922708502011-05-09T11:57:48.855-05:002011-05-09T11:57:48.855-05:00Having not read most of the books on the list, I m...Having not read most of the books on the list, I might as well shy away from this critique.ImageNationshttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06021414643103601330noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-56033331958088726362011-05-09T10:39:34.216-05:002011-05-09T10:39:34.216-05:00This book pleased and moved me even when/ though I...This book pleased and moved me even when/ though I hadn't'/ haven't read most of the books she makes reference to. Annie Dillard is one of my favorite authors, whether she's writing poetry, fiction, criticism, nature writing, or autobiography; she always makes the assumption you note here, which is that her readers keep their eyes open as much as she does.Jennyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/00251983804060081813noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3383938214852108244.post-2460723575683163712011-05-09T09:47:10.383-05:002011-05-09T09:47:10.383-05:00Hi A.R.
It seems to me that literature runs about...Hi A.R.<br /><br />It seems to me that literature runs about 300 years behind philosophy. <br /><br /><i>Dillard even spends the last third of the book investigating whether literature has meaning (actually, “Does the World Have Meaning?”)</i><br /><br />I think an interesting question is: <i>“Can literature have meaning even if the world does not?”</i><br /><br />About <i>”the dull Alain Robbe-Grillet.”</i> He wasn’t dull to me when I read him in real time. Oh, and how I would want to see “Raymond Queneau” in that list of European writers. And how about at least one female subjectivist, say, Djuna Barnes?<br /><br /><br />VinceVincehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12707773426729777989noreply@blogger.com