It's been almost two weeks since Doris Lessing's Nobel Prize announcement. Since then, I'd finally had the drive to read The Golden Notebook, which had been gathering dust on my shelf for several months. I'm halfway through, and it's been more than a week, so I guess I'm reading at a slower pace than usual. The novel, as well-written and structurally unique as it is, is a geyser of ideas, that sometimes I just had to take a rest to comprehend what I had just read. Two years ago, I may have found this compelling. I remember reading The Brothers Karamazov and completely immersing myself in what Dostoevsky had to say about the human condition. I fell in love with its characters and lingered over its philosophy and psychological insight. I still think Dostoevsky's the greatest writer of all time, but I can't help right now but feel that his novels are sad cases of blatant misanthropy.
Today that's what I am thinking about Lessing's most famous work. It is so crammed with well-written, intelligent, and most of all, credible ideas that it depresses me. I'm halfway done, but all the ingredients are already there. Suicide, unrequited love, mental illness, and social personal insecurities all make cameos. Yes, and there's the thing that Lessing has been trying to dissociate readers from since its publication, the progressive feminism. The work though, as a novel, is an amazing piece of literature. That is, if you don't succumb to its bleakness. I have, and it's not healthy. But every time I get to read a novel like this, I constantly remind myself of what movie critic Roger Ebert always says about movies, and I tend to feel the same way about literature:
"No good movie is depressing. All bad movies are depressing."
Tuesday, October 23, 2007
Sunday, October 21, 2007
On Barthelme and Radiohead
(I have to write more. I have to write more. I have to write more.)
Last week, I had been really lucky to take advantage of two absolutely swell deals that don't come often. Bad luck makes me. But once in a while there comes a time, although fleeting, that makes me smile and forget. So here were the two small, really small, transactions that I made:
Before I enter a BookSale store, there is a fraction of a second when I think, "Let me find a good deal here", meaning that I hope that I would be able to find a nice copy of a book that I want to read, not just something that, although inexpensive, has a minimal chance of being read and therefore only serves as a shelf-filler. Giddy emotions as well as surprise then came as I locked my eyes on Donald Barthelme's "Sixty Stories", sandwiched between two non-fiction titles I would never think of reading. More giddy emotions as well as surprise came as I looked at the price: 15 pesos. I checked for major spine creasing. None. I checked for torn pages. None. I checked for underlined sentences. Fifteen pesos. 31.25% of what I pay for toll from Sucat to Makati. 12.5% of a decent meal at McDonald's. Less than 3% of the price of the same writer's "Forty Stories" at Fully Booked, which, obviously, has 33.3% less stories. I had to smile at that. I love BookSale.
Radiohead made an impact in the music industry recently when they suddenly announced that they'll be releasing their new album on the Internet in ten days and the price of the download is the buyer's choice. It seems like they're free agents these days so they have all this freedom to make up their own business model for the album's distribution. Whether or not this actually is a good idea has been discussed in hundreds of blog posts and news articles, so I won't comment on it anymore. On the day of the release, I went to the website and confirmed if it was true. I found out that it is and moreover, you can download the whole album for 0 pounds, so that's like, for free. Now I'm a big Radiohead fan. I have all their albums on original CD (except for Pablo Honey, which I have on cassette) and am proud that I'm in the minority because I honestly think Kid A is their best album. I would have gladly paid up to $10 for In Rainbows. Problem is, I don't have a credit card. By choice. I am personally against the concept of having a credit card, the reasons of which I don't want to explain further. Anyway, I had no choice but to download it for free. So there you go. I may have been a frugal fart for betraying one of the few bands that I truly admire, and I feel bad for it, but as I've said, I really had no choice. I listened to the album and holy crap! it's amazing. It's the album I've been waiting for since their sudden shift on Kid A. It still has the experimental tone of that album but also the accessibility of OK Computer. To top it all off, the songs' lyrics are less cryptic. I felt frustration at their post-Kid A albums, with lines that are either too enigmatic or too trite; nothing in between. With this, they're back in the big leagues. Thank you Radiohead, and I apologize. Here's the website for the download. And please, if you have a credit card, it won't hurt shelling out a few bucks for some awesome music.
Last week, I had been really lucky to take advantage of two absolutely swell deals that don't come often. Bad luck makes me. But once in a while there comes a time, although fleeting, that makes me smile and forget. So here were the two small, really small, transactions that I made:
Before I enter a BookSale store, there is a fraction of a second when I think, "Let me find a good deal here", meaning that I hope that I would be able to find a nice copy of a book that I want to read, not just something that, although inexpensive, has a minimal chance of being read and therefore only serves as a shelf-filler. Giddy emotions as well as surprise then came as I locked my eyes on Donald Barthelme's "Sixty Stories", sandwiched between two non-fiction titles I would never think of reading. More giddy emotions as well as surprise came as I looked at the price: 15 pesos. I checked for major spine creasing. None. I checked for torn pages. None. I checked for underlined sentences. Fifteen pesos. 31.25% of what I pay for toll from Sucat to Makati. 12.5% of a decent meal at McDonald's. Less than 3% of the price of the same writer's "Forty Stories" at Fully Booked, which, obviously, has 33.3% less stories. I had to smile at that. I love BookSale.
Radiohead made an impact in the music industry recently when they suddenly announced that they'll be releasing their new album on the Internet in ten days and the price of the download is the buyer's choice. It seems like they're free agents these days so they have all this freedom to make up their own business model for the album's distribution. Whether or not this actually is a good idea has been discussed in hundreds of blog posts and news articles, so I won't comment on it anymore. On the day of the release, I went to the website and confirmed if it was true. I found out that it is and moreover, you can download the whole album for 0 pounds, so that's like, for free. Now I'm a big Radiohead fan. I have all their albums on original CD (except for Pablo Honey, which I have on cassette) and am proud that I'm in the minority because I honestly think Kid A is their best album. I would have gladly paid up to $10 for In Rainbows. Problem is, I don't have a credit card. By choice. I am personally against the concept of having a credit card, the reasons of which I don't want to explain further. Anyway, I had no choice but to download it for free. So there you go. I may have been a frugal fart for betraying one of the few bands that I truly admire, and I feel bad for it, but as I've said, I really had no choice. I listened to the album and holy crap! it's amazing. It's the album I've been waiting for since their sudden shift on Kid A. It still has the experimental tone of that album but also the accessibility of OK Computer. To top it all off, the songs' lyrics are less cryptic. I felt frustration at their post-Kid A albums, with lines that are either too enigmatic or too trite; nothing in between. With this, they're back in the big leagues. Thank you Radiohead, and I apologize. Here's the website for the download. And please, if you have a credit card, it won't hurt shelling out a few bucks for some awesome music.
Sunday, July 15, 2007
Me, Myself, and Thomas Pynchon
(An updated version of an entry from a previous blog posted 10-13-06)
Postmodern literature: is it an homage to modern literature or a complete and absolute deviation from it? The question has been on my mind for a couple of weeks now. I guess I won't get the answer anytime soon. I don't mind, though. Here's just a list of some postmodern writers that have made an enormous impact on how I presently think:
Paul Auster - "The New York Trilogy" is the ultimate mindfuck novel; a trio of detective stories that gave me one week's worth of unnecessary anxiety and paranoia. His prose is direct and spare, but cuts straight to the bone. I sat on my chair for thirty minutes after i finished the last page, totally spaced-out, whether in shock, perplexity, or awe I could not remember. During my early teens I devoured Agatha Christie novels, but this one was a detective story so dark and unsettling that I was reminded of the noir flicks I watched when I was in my "art film" stage. A cross between "The Usual Suspects", "The Maltese Falcon", and early Hitchcock films.
John Barth - The frustration I felt while reading "The Sot-Weed Factor" was unprecedented in the few years' time of reading literature. It was long and seemed to drag on forever. But several months after reading it, I still remember certain passages. It's a novel that has resonated, my respect for the novel only increasing as time goes by and having read more novels. I read this before "Don Quixote", which, I presume, is the framework that "The Sot-Weed Factor" was based on. It's a novel set in the 17th century but with 20th century content. I know this has been exploited far too many times by mainstream historical romances, but it's not the content that separates this from other novels. It's the use of the English language, and its critique of it, that makes this so fascinating. Ask me the plot of, say, "To Kill A Mockingbird" and I'll give you a blank face, and say that I have read it but have no recollection of its story. Ask me the plot of "The Sot-Weed Factor", and I'll also give you a blank face, but you'll have to spare me twenty minutes to ramble on how different and downright weird it is.
Jonathan Franzen - "The Corrections" is also a novel that resonates long after it has been read. The tale of a dysfunctional family in suburban America was also a chore to read; I found it too complex and before reading it, I assumed it would be accessible. And of course it wasn't. Characters pondered on anything and everything they could think of, turning what could have been a short-story in the hands of a lesser author into a 600-page monster. Its pessimism has dwelt in me for a long time, and I never regretted reading it and feeling frustrated in the process. Just a side note, Franzen is the only writer with enough cajones to snub being in Oprah's Book Club. Yes, it has the "Oprah" stub on the cover, but keep in mind that he never wanted it in the first place. A sign of true non-conformity.
Chuck Palahniuk - I haven't read "Fight Club". Unfortunately, I was a victim of a "twist ending disclosure" before I saw the movie. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I didn't like the film as much as my friends did. Anyway, I read his second published novel, "Survivor", several years ago, and I thought that it was one of the edgiest books I had ever read. It was angry, chaotic, and twisted beyond recognition. Then I read "Choke" last year, and just found it funny, like being stoned and watching "Wild Things" on a Thursday night. He's a writer that should never be taken seriously. His minimalist style is interesting, though. It makes Hemingway sound like Marcel Proust. I have a copy of "Lullaby" at home and have yet to read it, but I will never approach it the same way as I did "Survivor" years ago. Nihilistic? Satirical is a better adjective to describe his work. Although I still remember the emotions I felt after reading "Survivor". THE WORLD IS SHIT AND I'M TAKING ALL OF YOU WITH ME TO HELL!!! (smirk)
Irvine Welsh - Between "hipster heroes" Welsh and Palahniuk, Welsh is better. "Trainspotting" is a montage of stories set in '90s Scotland, complete with drugs, dirty sex, and Scottish vernacular. It's a novel that I have to admit is really good, and its movie adaptation wasn't one of the most excruciatingly pretentious cliches in hipster history ("The book was better than the movie"). I do think this would be more enjoyable if you were exposed to the drug culture. Its glorification (or condemnation, you decide) of illegal substances may offend some, but I don't think readers of Paulo Coelho wouldn't be buying this book in the first place. I still have a couple of Welsh books at home, but it's unlikely I'll be reading them soon. I've given up on the culture a few years ago, and bringing back memories wouldn't be a good idea.
Jonathan Safran Foer - I've read his two novels. "Everything Is Illuminated" is about a young man named Jonathan Safran Foer as he journeys to his native country to look for his family's shtetl (that's the spelling). "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" is a story about 9/11 filled with underlined sentences, encircled words, blank pages, pictures and even a couple of pages written in computer-speak (zeros and ones). He's like the hipster-wannabe chick who dresses emo and listens to emo to impress her friends, while saying to yourself that she actually looks good in that long black skirt, even though you know she's trying too hard. Whimsical stuff.
Dave Eggers - He made self-conscious literature popular with his memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius". I don't recall an anecdote in the book that may be even be called as "remotely interesting", except for the first chapter in which he recounts the death of her mother, but how he says the stories that makes the book such a wonderful read. After reading the preface alone, it's like saying to the book critics, "Yeah I know I'm self-conscious and insecure, yeah I know my book is uneven, yeah I know I spend pages writing about nothing. So tell me something I don't already know." This memoir will be a classic, and will be instrumental in shaping the next generation's writing. You'll either either love or hate the damn thing, and it's only right to say I fall in the former category.
Haruki Murakami - Anyone who's seriously into literature knows this contemporary Japanese writer. I wrote an entry two years ago that I didn't get "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle", although it was memorable. Its weirdness was too quirky for my tastes. He's an excellent writer, though. Saying that he sucks is like saying that Dan Brown is good. I will give him another chance in the future. Maybe I read the wrong novel. Maybe I was reading it with the wrong frame of mind. I don't know. My opinion of Murakami reflects his writing. I have no idea what to make of it. Maybe that's his point all along, having no point. If that's the case, I'll have to give him due props. Hearing his name makes me think, which is a sign of an important artist.
Kurt Vonnegut - Now this guy I get. I've read five of his novels, and I promised myself to read every single work he has written. Satire at its finest. "Slaughterhouse-Five" changed my perspective in literature. A novel so simply written, but with ideas so profound. A writer in a league of his own. No one before has written like him, and no one after has. Heaping praise on this dude will only take up so much space. HE'S GOOD. READ HIS WORK. That would suffice.
Others:
Cormac McCarthy - Postmodern, American Western style. His sentences are so carefully constructed and very poetic I could only cry in Writer's Envy. (All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, Cities of the Plain)
Italo Calvino - A novel within a novel, using a second-person narrative, with beautiful prose thrown in for good measure. (If On A Winter's Night A Traveller, Invisible Cities)
John Fowles - One of the pioneers of postmodernism. His prose is breathtaking in its beauty. (The French Lieutenant's Woman, The Magus)
Alex Garland - "The Beach" was dubbed as "The Lord of the Flies" of Generation X. "The Tesseract" is a novel set in Manila reminiscent of the movie "Pulp Fiction" (Three intersecting stories creating a cohesive unit).
Saul Bellow - "Herzog" gives a divorce as an excuse to give plot to the title character's philosophical musings. It doesn't mean it's not good, though. Great, actually. Better than "The Adventures of Augie March", his take on the Great American novel.
Neil Gaiman - He's extremely popular, and although I tried hard to like one of his novels that I read, I concluded that I'm simply just not into the fantastical. Good writer, though. (American Gods)
Tom Robbins - See Neil Gaiman, and scratch out the first three words. (Jitterbug Perfume)
Toni Morrison - Maybe I should put this on an autograph book under "The Book I Wanted To Bang My Head With In Frustration". One of the novels I admit to cheating (Looking it up on the internet and reading the plot synopsis by chapters). (Beloved)
Thomas Pynchon - I read "The Crying of Lot 49" and had a migraine afterwards. I'm scared to touch my copy of "Gravity's Rainbow". I have no idea when I'll read it. Won't be soon.
David Mitchell - My favorite contemporary writer. Enough said. Saying more about him will only diminish his anonymity. (Ghostwritten, Number9Dream, Cloud Atlas, Black Swan Green)
Vladimir Nabokov - "Lolita" is a very popular novel, but note that it's not the only novel he wrote, that he had written a number of novels equally as good, and I'll read them as soon as I get the funds to buy them.
Kazuo Ishiguro - A master of restrained writing. His novels are so understated it seems like he never talked to anyone when he was a kid, speaking only when asked. (The Remains of the Day, Never Let Me Go, The Unconsoled)
Margaret Atwood - She either writes about dystopias or feminism. Both come off quite well. (The Blind Assasin, Oryx and Crake, The Handmaid's Tale)
David Foster Wallace - I first read his debut novel, "The Broom of the System", and was amazed of its originality and surreal humor. My jaw dropped though when I started reading "Infinite Jest", a 1,088-page behemoth where Wallace threw the Literary Rulebook out the window and created my favorite 20th-century novel.
Writers whose works I want to get into:
Mark Z. Danielewski - I found a copy of "House of Leaves" in the States, but was too expensive. I looked at the pages and was bombarded with pages with one sentence, spiraling text, blank pages, and other weird stuff. It's been touted as "The Blair Witch Project" of literature. Anything that could be compared to the movie I would find very interesting.
Jessica Hagedorn - Wow. A postmodern noypi writer. Cool. I want to buy "Dogeaters". I'm sure a lot of people have already read it, but for some strange reason, I have never met one.
William Gaddis - I love Book Sale. I found a copy of "The Recognitions", fairly priced. I'll read it soon. (Note: If you're seriously into lit, learn to love Book Sale.)
Postmodern literature: is it an homage to modern literature or a complete and absolute deviation from it? The question has been on my mind for a couple of weeks now. I guess I won't get the answer anytime soon. I don't mind, though. Here's just a list of some postmodern writers that have made an enormous impact on how I presently think:
Paul Auster - "The New York Trilogy" is the ultimate mindfuck novel; a trio of detective stories that gave me one week's worth of unnecessary anxiety and paranoia. His prose is direct and spare, but cuts straight to the bone. I sat on my chair for thirty minutes after i finished the last page, totally spaced-out, whether in shock, perplexity, or awe I could not remember. During my early teens I devoured Agatha Christie novels, but this one was a detective story so dark and unsettling that I was reminded of the noir flicks I watched when I was in my "art film" stage. A cross between "The Usual Suspects", "The Maltese Falcon", and early Hitchcock films.
John Barth - The frustration I felt while reading "The Sot-Weed Factor" was unprecedented in the few years' time of reading literature. It was long and seemed to drag on forever. But several months after reading it, I still remember certain passages. It's a novel that has resonated, my respect for the novel only increasing as time goes by and having read more novels. I read this before "Don Quixote", which, I presume, is the framework that "The Sot-Weed Factor" was based on. It's a novel set in the 17th century but with 20th century content. I know this has been exploited far too many times by mainstream historical romances, but it's not the content that separates this from other novels. It's the use of the English language, and its critique of it, that makes this so fascinating. Ask me the plot of, say, "To Kill A Mockingbird" and I'll give you a blank face, and say that I have read it but have no recollection of its story. Ask me the plot of "The Sot-Weed Factor", and I'll also give you a blank face, but you'll have to spare me twenty minutes to ramble on how different and downright weird it is.
Jonathan Franzen - "The Corrections" is also a novel that resonates long after it has been read. The tale of a dysfunctional family in suburban America was also a chore to read; I found it too complex and before reading it, I assumed it would be accessible. And of course it wasn't. Characters pondered on anything and everything they could think of, turning what could have been a short-story in the hands of a lesser author into a 600-page monster. Its pessimism has dwelt in me for a long time, and I never regretted reading it and feeling frustrated in the process. Just a side note, Franzen is the only writer with enough cajones to snub being in Oprah's Book Club. Yes, it has the "Oprah" stub on the cover, but keep in mind that he never wanted it in the first place. A sign of true non-conformity.
Chuck Palahniuk - I haven't read "Fight Club". Unfortunately, I was a victim of a "twist ending disclosure" before I saw the movie. Maybe that's one of the reasons why I didn't like the film as much as my friends did. Anyway, I read his second published novel, "Survivor", several years ago, and I thought that it was one of the edgiest books I had ever read. It was angry, chaotic, and twisted beyond recognition. Then I read "Choke" last year, and just found it funny, like being stoned and watching "Wild Things" on a Thursday night. He's a writer that should never be taken seriously. His minimalist style is interesting, though. It makes Hemingway sound like Marcel Proust. I have a copy of "Lullaby" at home and have yet to read it, but I will never approach it the same way as I did "Survivor" years ago. Nihilistic? Satirical is a better adjective to describe his work. Although I still remember the emotions I felt after reading "Survivor". THE WORLD IS SHIT AND I'M TAKING ALL OF YOU WITH ME TO HELL!!! (smirk)
Irvine Welsh - Between "hipster heroes" Welsh and Palahniuk, Welsh is better. "Trainspotting" is a montage of stories set in '90s Scotland, complete with drugs, dirty sex, and Scottish vernacular. It's a novel that I have to admit is really good, and its movie adaptation wasn't one of the most excruciatingly pretentious cliches in hipster history ("The book was better than the movie"). I do think this would be more enjoyable if you were exposed to the drug culture. Its glorification (or condemnation, you decide) of illegal substances may offend some, but I don't think readers of Paulo Coelho wouldn't be buying this book in the first place. I still have a couple of Welsh books at home, but it's unlikely I'll be reading them soon. I've given up on the culture a few years ago, and bringing back memories wouldn't be a good idea.
Jonathan Safran Foer - I've read his two novels. "Everything Is Illuminated" is about a young man named Jonathan Safran Foer as he journeys to his native country to look for his family's shtetl (that's the spelling). "Extremely Loud and Incredibly Close" is a story about 9/11 filled with underlined sentences, encircled words, blank pages, pictures and even a couple of pages written in computer-speak (zeros and ones). He's like the hipster-wannabe chick who dresses emo and listens to emo to impress her friends, while saying to yourself that she actually looks good in that long black skirt, even though you know she's trying too hard. Whimsical stuff.
Dave Eggers - He made self-conscious literature popular with his memoir "A Heartbreaking Work of Staggering Genius". I don't recall an anecdote in the book that may be even be called as "remotely interesting", except for the first chapter in which he recounts the death of her mother, but how he says the stories that makes the book such a wonderful read. After reading the preface alone, it's like saying to the book critics, "Yeah I know I'm self-conscious and insecure, yeah I know my book is uneven, yeah I know I spend pages writing about nothing. So tell me something I don't already know." This memoir will be a classic, and will be instrumental in shaping the next generation's writing. You'll either either love or hate the damn thing, and it's only right to say I fall in the former category.
Haruki Murakami - Anyone who's seriously into literature knows this contemporary Japanese writer. I wrote an entry two years ago that I didn't get "The Wind-up Bird Chronicle", although it was memorable. Its weirdness was too quirky for my tastes. He's an excellent writer, though. Saying that he sucks is like saying that Dan Brown is good. I will give him another chance in the future. Maybe I read the wrong novel. Maybe I was reading it with the wrong frame of mind. I don't know. My opinion of Murakami reflects his writing. I have no idea what to make of it. Maybe that's his point all along, having no point. If that's the case, I'll have to give him due props. Hearing his name makes me think, which is a sign of an important artist.
Kurt Vonnegut - Now this guy I get. I've read five of his novels, and I promised myself to read every single work he has written. Satire at its finest. "Slaughterhouse-Five" changed my perspective in literature. A novel so simply written, but with ideas so profound. A writer in a league of his own. No one before has written like him, and no one after has. Heaping praise on this dude will only take up so much space. HE'S GOOD. READ HIS WORK. That would suffice.
Others:
Cormac McCarthy - Postmodern, American Western style. His sentences are so carefully constructed and very poetic I could only cry in Writer's Envy. (All the Pretty Horses, The Crossing, Cities of the Plain)
Italo Calvino - A novel within a novel, using a second-person narrative, with beautiful prose thrown in for good measure. (If On A Winter's Night A Traveller, Invisible Cities)
John Fowles - One of the pioneers of postmodernism. His prose is breathtaking in its beauty. (The French Lieutenant's Woman, The Magus)
Alex Garland - "The Beach" was dubbed as "The Lord of the Flies" of Generation X. "The Tesseract" is a novel set in Manila reminiscent of the movie "Pulp Fiction" (Three intersecting stories creating a cohesive unit).
Saul Bellow - "Herzog" gives a divorce as an excuse to give plot to the title character's philosophical musings. It doesn't mean it's not good, though. Great, actually. Better than "The Adventures of Augie March", his take on the Great American novel.
Neil Gaiman - He's extremely popular, and although I tried hard to like one of his novels that I read, I concluded that I'm simply just not into the fantastical. Good writer, though. (American Gods)
Tom Robbins - See Neil Gaiman, and scratch out the first three words. (Jitterbug Perfume)
Toni Morrison - Maybe I should put this on an autograph book under "The Book I Wanted To Bang My Head With In Frustration". One of the novels I admit to cheating (Looking it up on the internet and reading the plot synopsis by chapters). (Beloved)
Thomas Pynchon - I read "The Crying of Lot 49" and had a migraine afterwards. I'm scared to touch my copy of "Gravity's Rainbow". I have no idea when I'll read it. Won't be soon.
David Mitchell - My favorite contemporary writer. Enough said. Saying more about him will only diminish his anonymity. (Ghostwritten, Number9Dream, Cloud Atlas, Black Swan Green)
Vladimir Nabokov - "Lolita" is a very popular novel, but note that it's not the only novel he wrote, that he had written a number of novels equally as good, and I'll read them as soon as I get the funds to buy them.
Kazuo Ishiguro - A master of restrained writing. His novels are so understated it seems like he never talked to anyone when he was a kid, speaking only when asked. (The Remains of the Day, Never Let Me Go, The Unconsoled)
Margaret Atwood - She either writes about dystopias or feminism. Both come off quite well. (The Blind Assasin, Oryx and Crake, The Handmaid's Tale)
David Foster Wallace - I first read his debut novel, "The Broom of the System", and was amazed of its originality and surreal humor. My jaw dropped though when I started reading "Infinite Jest", a 1,088-page behemoth where Wallace threw the Literary Rulebook out the window and created my favorite 20th-century novel.
Writers whose works I want to get into:
Mark Z. Danielewski - I found a copy of "House of Leaves" in the States, but was too expensive. I looked at the pages and was bombarded with pages with one sentence, spiraling text, blank pages, and other weird stuff. It's been touted as "The Blair Witch Project" of literature. Anything that could be compared to the movie I would find very interesting.
Jessica Hagedorn - Wow. A postmodern noypi writer. Cool. I want to buy "Dogeaters". I'm sure a lot of people have already read it, but for some strange reason, I have never met one.
William Gaddis - I love Book Sale. I found a copy of "The Recognitions", fairly priced. I'll read it soon. (Note: If you're seriously into lit, learn to love Book Sale.)
Monday, July 2, 2007
Essentially, a literary blog. Whatever else comes up is anyone's guess.
I didn't come up with the name of this blog; Ford Madox Ford did. This will be the first post in what I'm hoping will be a very long relationship with this blog. I'll be posting book reviews, literary news bits, and other stuff coming out of my convoluted head and wishing that anyone in the Philippines who stops by this page would reconsider before going to National Bookstore and buying that Paolo Coelho or Dan Brown book. So... let's begin.
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