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Or winding your own spring, shining your shoes, and how to keep going when things don’t work out. 

Norwegian Wood is Haruki Murakami’s most notable novel to not feature surreal/dream-like elements. The novel follows Toru Wanatabe as he reconnects with the girlfriend of his childhood friend who committed suicide. Toru and Naoko become friends and begin a relationship before she has a breakdown and moves to a sanatorium. Between visits Toru begins another relationship with a classmate, Midori. However Wanatabe is generally uninterested in anyone or anything except for some general yearning for companionship. 

Throughout the novel, Toru switches between the two women but often ends up alone. He is generally drawn to Naoko but can’t be with her while she’s undergoing treatment. Beyond that he struggles to decide what he wants and mostly drifts, even picking a college major almost at random. There is seemingly too many expectations that are impossible to fulfill while dealing with loss and a complicated relationship. Wanatabe spends a lot of time “winding his spring” to keep going through his depressive periods until he has to make a decision or the options disappear as the only other apparent option seems to be the one of his childhood friend. 

Naturally enough for a Murakami novel things are a bit weird and the women are too young (maybe the talking cats and fish rain is a good distraction for him?). It has its moments as a novel about persisting through grief and about the expectations associated with early adulthood…but there are plenty of other options here. 

Franny and Zooey follows siblings Franny and Zooey Glass while they each get effectively an extended monologue. The Glass family children were prodigy contestants on a general knowledge radio game show. This early success brought them a level of recognition and expectation for their intellectual gifts. But in a game show the objectives are clearly defined and the wins/losses are immediate. As Franny enters her adult life through college and a steady boyfriend the lack of defined goals and the success of those without merit lead to a breakdown. 

At home to recover, Franny is surrounded by the death of an older brother, another brother who is living a Walden life, and Zooey who is beginning to find success as an actor. The brothers represent three ways of handling expectations and social pressures: resist the premise, escape, or conform. Her breakdown stemmed from her unwillingness to conform to playing the games of politics and expectations yet Zooey, the only one finding some degree of success and stability, is the one around to talk to her. Zooey argues that she will never find success through intellectual/artistic outputs based on merit alone–there’s no way through life without dealing with ego or Holden Caulfield’s “phonies.” Zooey reminds her of how their parents made them shine their shoes before a radio program. 

A typical loaf of 30% whole wheat, slow to rise but plenty of spring in the oven

John Williams’ last novel breaks from his usual setting of the lonely American frontier in the mid-to-late 1800s for ancient Rome. Rather than a traditional novel it’s written as a collection of letters, diaries, dialogues, and senatorial proceedings that follow the life of Caesar Augustus. In the first part, we see Augustus rise to power and he learns how to gain power by appealing to the people rather than the senate, form alliances to slowly decrease his political opponents, and come to be the sole ruler of the Roman Empire. The second part moves away from his battles and political schemes to focus on the personal aspects of leadership and “soft politics” of lineage and leadership. Here we also meet his daughter, Julia, who he loves but it bound by her duties as daughter of the Emperor and her failings led her to exile on an island as she writes her diaries. As Augustus struggles to maintain power and provide works for the empire he becomes deeply isolated both by the extent of his duties and by the scheming of others. The short third part sees Augustus in his later days, writing to Nicolaus of Damascus about the long-term value of his efforts, the progress of history, and the personal cost of duty. 

But make no mistake that this is a John Williams novel. A somewhat feckless young man is faced with a choice between an easy life and a great challenge. Taking the leap leads to great challenges and some accomplishments but the cost of greatness is rarely worth it. Whether the choice was to drop out of school for an Emersonian buffalo hunt, to leave the family farm to pursue a literature degree, or to turn away from a life of comfort to unite and lead an empire, the choices are driven by some ill-defined interest and naive idealism (although the stakes are different). The challenges may be physical (buffalo hunting, battles) or relational (particularly power struggles either in academia or Roman politics). The nearly unified ending of a John Williams novel is that pursing higher goals is hardly worthwhile if they are pursued at the expense of all relationships and happiness–buffalo hides may drop in value, great publications may never come to fruition, or the empire may fall into the hands of someone more focused on themself. 

As Julia asks: 

“Father,” I asked, “has it been worth it? Your authority, this Rome that you have saved, this Rome that you have built? Has it been worth all that you have had to do?”

My father looked at me for a long time, and then he looked away. “I must believe that it has,” he said. “We both must believe that it has.”

Second loaf of the season using ~30% whole wheat with much better shaping than last week.

…and a loaf that was a bit stunted so I could fit in a run while the temperature stayed above 50º

The first loaf of the season! A little flat due to some kneading neglect, but still a light and fragrant loaf

Almost a prelude to “Butcher’s Crossing,” a young man has dropped out of college and spends his days in a depressive state drinking and reading. When his father returns to town from some vague international business and wants to meet Arthur is apprehensive but agrees. He acts out at lunch when a friend asks for a loan to start a poetry publication. He acts out at dinner with his father after connecting over their shared exhaustion when his father wants to reconnect but is interrupted by a mistress. He acts out at a bar, goes home with a woman and acts out again. Arthur has a lot of outbursts in under 120 pages. 

Arthur witnessed something horrific. It explains the dropping out of college, the estrangement from his father, the general issues. In fact, it’s all explained. Here’s a portrait without any mystery but with plenty of punch. Williams wrote this when he was 22 and it feels like a first novel. But it has the hallmarks of his more mature works: elaborate scene setting, (overly?) heavy alliteration, the feeling of oppressive space, the disaffected/disconnected characters. Maybe it’s not the greatest novella–the covers blurbs only mention that it’s the author or “Stoner” and celebrate the revival of Williams’ work.

The world is on the brink of nuclear warfare and The Mole (or Pig, Captain) is prepared. He lives in an abandoned mine that’s been converted into a doomsday shelter he refers to as “the Ark.” He’s accumulated provisions and set up some of the systems for keeping the Ark going (electricity and air purification a bit unclear). However, he needs a crew to make final preparations and be in the Ark when the bomb is dropped. 

The Mole is socially inept and unobservant. At a flea market, he allows shills to lure him into buying a (likely fake) mounted insect that slowly walks in circles eating its own feces. He gives the insect vendor a ticket to the Ark and then accidentally gives tickets to the Shills. Back in the Ark they jockey for power until they realize that other people have been in the mines without Mole knowing. They rapidly end up embroiled in a turf war between rival gangs (one normal, the other composed of retired men who are clandestine sanitation workers). 

Written a few years after China’s nuclear test, the fear of nuclear warfare doesn’t quite hold but the feeling of wanting to escape a chaotic world is clear. Mole’s life was stagnant but this allowed him to maintain a sense of control. However, troubles in the past and the need for connection can’t be ignored forever. The passengers on the Ark and the intruders set of a string of events that bring Mole back into the world, if only that could solve more problems than it creates 

The final part of an unconventional trilogy, Cusk writes a ~2 chapter novel about an author traveling to  Portugal (?) for a literary festival. Like “Outline” and “Transit,” the novel almost entirely focuses on conversations between Faye and others. 

In the first and second parts, the focus was generally on finding oneself after a marital separation. Here the focus is on occupying the “in-between.” The narrator sits on the edge of popular and literary fiction where she is invited to literary festivals without seeming to get much attention from the highbrows and to interviews where she is seemingly the highbrow exception. Many of the characters are in the in-between as well mainly in their marriages (or lack of divorces) and careers (either successful without satisfaction or unable to launch). No one here is fully comfortable with a situation that was never what they had in mind and yet they carry on in their routines and endure some usual level or hardship and a few moments of joy. 

Maybe Cusk’s greatest strength is that unbearable conversations feel unbearable, the oppressive heat feels oppressive, and the most plain people usually have the best stories to tell. 

“Outline” is a breath of freedom (with all of its disappointments) after a difficult episode, “Transit” is the realization that life (with all its difficulties) goes continues on after situations change, and “Kudos” is the acceptance that we settle into roles that are somehow conventional and yet blur the lines of what is well defined. 

If everything becomes automated what else is there to do? Vonnegut’s first novel ponders a world where wartime efficiency has led to the automation of the entire economy such that only engineers and a few others in leadership positions become necessary while work is made up for the rest. 

This novel follows Paul Proteus, son of one of the heroes of automation, who manages an automated production plant in Illium, New York while vying for a similar role in Pittsburgh. While he experiences depressive episodes, the return of his old friend Ed Finnerty from DC catalyzes a change in Paul’s view of their automated world. Ed leads Paul on some drinking expeditions on the other side of the river where his interactions with the people left behind from automation solidify his view that automation has prevented most people from finding meaningful work. This pulls Paul into a complicated deal of being asked by the higher-ups to infiltrate the resistance while he’s on the fence about his own career. 

This novel reads like a first novel where the author has a lot to say and it often gets in the way. There isn’t the creative diversion found in “Slaughterhouse Five” or “Cat’s Cradle” or the sentimental humor of “Bluebeard” but there are many somewhat preachy monologues from Paul likely reflecting the author’s view of the increasing automation seen after WWII. For that it’s more of an interesting dystopian novel than a totally great one (still better than Fahrenheit 451). Perhaps there is some meaning to be found in inefficient work done by real humans (see his envelope story) at the expense of pure economic productivity. Player Piano is a sadly pertinent, if imperfect novel. 

Not to be confused with “The Book of Common Prayer”from the Anglican Church, one of Didion’s few fiction works follows two happenings on the fictional South American nation(state?) of Boca Grande. First is the appearance of a strange American woman with seemingly no connections to the island and nothing to do but wait around and be mildly inconvenient. The second being the political uprising happening within the controlling family which the narrator belongs to. 

The novel slowly unfolds as if told much later in the future (or after blocking out some of the memories) by the main heiress of the Boca Grande and step-sister to the main political leaders. We learn that the American, Charlotte, is traveling while her daughter is wanted for a left-wing terrorist attack and seems to expect that she’ll show up on the island. There’s an obvious contrast here between the American leftist and the situation in an apparently communist country. As the political situation unfolds we see how the convergence of her (difficult) husband and (more difficult) ex-husband led her to escape. Throughout these events, the narrator tries to break through the conception of her daughter as an innocent child. 

I still think that Joan Didion never put out a bad work but this one felt a little contrived. For example, there’s a whole introduction about the narrator being an amateur biochemist which only results in occasionally bad metaphors or Didion making both sides of the political divisions seem a little ridiculous. Some of the Cold War politics don’t really age well. The terrorist daughter is a bit of a caricature of an educated “champagne socialist” gone extreme without really adding much to the conversation. But the novel still holds together and unfolds wells. The character study of Charlotte and the narrator are both good as expected for a Didion critique of the California hippie type. This is a novel about the rich being out of touch both at home and abroad.