The inner cover reads “a novel about the rich stories of small places.” Huh? I mean it does include rich stories from a small place but it barely seems like the point (although I’m sure the marketing is easier). But this is a rich, expansive novel that feels much longer than it’s ~300 pages, in a good way.
To me, this is a novel about coming to terms with the world.
A main theme is the realization of estrangement from ourselves and the natural world. This is manifested in:
Dreams/dreamstate, which we can’t control and can barely comprehend (including symbols in nature, clouds, zodiac) but unveils our impressions of the world
Our physical bodies, which function in strange and horrifying ways until they don’t (and only feel present in the presence of others).
The complexity of the natural world which we can’t barely begin to understand because we focus on ourselves and try to prevent any realizations from getting through (contrasted with the pressure of market-driven work culture)
We turn to religion, mysticism, or some occupying drudgery to either try to make sense of the world or drown it out.
This is a rich, complex novel that I feel barely capable of truly understanding. It feels Nobel-caliber. It makes me want to read “The Books of Jacob” and “Flights.”
First published 40 years after the author’s death, Zweig novel provides biting commentary on the after effects of the First World War and on the psychological effects of poverty.
“The Post-Office Girl” follows Christine, who lives in near total poverty in order to support her sick mother on a small salary from a provincial post-office in Austria. While she had grown up somewhat comfortably in a merchant household, business had dried up during the war and inflation had left their savings nearly worthless. She feels her formative years (late teens and early twenties) were ruined by the war and its aftereffects which has left her lonely and nearing 30.
Things change when a telegram arrives from her American aunt who is visiting Europe and invites her to a short vacation at a hotel in the Swiss Alps. Her first vacation, Christine is apprehensive but agrees to the trip. Upon arriving, she is immediately self-conscious about her poverty compared to the other guests. Her aunt quickly buys her clothes, makeup, and a haircut to hide these effects. Christine quickly gains confidence as she is accepted into this world and sought after by several bachelors. She does as much as possible and enjoys herself greatly until cracks begin appearing in her persona. Fearing having her own past exposed, her aunt sends her back to her post early.
Back in Austria, Christine becomes bitter about her situation. Needing a short escape, she visits her sister is Vienna where she meets a friend of her husband, Ferdinand. He had fought in the war and been taken as prisoner into Siberia. After the war he was unable to get a footing and had been scraping by working odd-jobs and assisting an architect. They fall in love (or pity, or “trauma-bond”) feeling like they have finally found someone who understands the humiliating conditions that they are forced to endure. The two realize that a few moments of bliss won’t be enough to overcome their situation and begin plotting ways out.
Zweig’s posthumous novel certainly feels a little unfinished here. The first part (until Christine leaves Switzerland) feels complete and is brilliantly written. The second part feels rushed and a bit crudely written at times. The ending was not my favorite. Where Zweig excels, which is apparently in the first part, is in his ability to write very narrative-driven works that still manage complex psychological insight. Where other authors often manage this through long internal-monologue, Zweig is able to capture huge shifts in feeling through subtle shifts in tone and dialogue. At one point, I considered a novel great if it could provide a great story on the surface while also having plenty to pick apart below the surface–this and Mann’s Buddenbrooks are prime examples.
Zweig describes the humiliation of poverty in a way that feels both quite true and is quite sad to read. The reader feels for Christine as she encounters wealth beyond her imagination while wearing her best shabby clothes. Her anger is justified by her suffering through the war years thinking that everyone else was in a similar situation. Christine and Ferdinand both feel as though the life they wanted had escaped them as they struggled for so long just to eat. And to get ahead all they would need would be one of her uncle’s poker bets.
The final (?) novel from France’s controversial but important writer. Here, he is somewhat moderated (relatively) on the shock value in the narrative and moves towards a (almost) wholesome story of the value of relationships and family in the face of a bureaucratic life.
This novel centers around a fairly high-ranking bureaucrat, Paul, who works for an agency head who is quickly rising up the ranks of political power. Paul has no friends and is in a marriage that has turned into little more than a roomate situation when a series of attacks rocks the French intelligence. When his father suffers a stroke, Paul has to pause his political work to help handle the situation with his brother and sister, both of whom are married to less-than-appealing characters.
Houellebecq pivots the novel from a sort of political thriller into a family novel as the family learns to put differences aside and live with each other (or not) and reconnect while helping there father escape a difficult situation in a care facility. Here, the novel become touching at times as people come together during difficult times to lend a hand or shoulder to cry on. Of course, this is Houellebecq so it can’t be too touching without some horrifying twists.
If this is the final work from the (in)famous author, it marks a shift from the crude shock value and nihilistic social commentary toward a future enriched by relationships and strong throughout the most difficult circumstances. But be warned that it’s still Houellebecq…
This NYT article related to a forthcoming biography of Watson provides context on Watson’s move from the “discovery” of the (right-handed!) DNA double helix to eugenics. Hopefully the book covers his leadership of the (beautiful) Cold Spring Harbor lab (where I visited, below) which become a bastion of scientific publication and conferencing.
One of the better looking loaves that came from a very slow rise which I luckily had patience for as it turned out well and I still got in a long (8 mile) run before it got dark out.
Two notable novels of crisis from two Nobel laureates.
“The Fall” is written as several monologue-conversations by a lawyer who “practices” at a seedy bar in Amsterdam’s red-light district. He recounts his early professional life as a defender of the needy both in and out of the courtroom. A series of events cause him to realize that all of these actions were an act that led to self-righteousness and the accumulation of status. He falls into debauchery, retreats from society, and becomes involved in a few minor military skirmishes to find reprieve. In the end, he must face the absurd notion that even the best intentions do not always lead to innocence and good deeds, with guilt being the burden of consciousness (and some Kierkegaard stuff).
“The Vegetarian” details the unraveling of a family when a daughter has nightmares and becomes a vegetarian. The novel consists of three parts consisting of 1) Yeong-Hye becoming a vegetarian and her marriage unraveling, 2)Yeong-Hye’s brother-in-law making an art film surrounding her, and his marriage unraveling, 3) Yeong-Hye and her sister at a psychiatric hospital while Yeong-Hye is being treated for anorexia and schizophrenia. This novel contains (in often graphic and unsettling detail) people reaching their breaking point when trying to manage societal expectations for family life and career success. The male characters all want control as they deal with intense pressure in the workplace. The women want to escape the expectations of managing a household often while also working. The lines between sanity and insanity become blurred as the conforming to social pressures requires unnatural exertion with the only benefit being an escape from scrutiny and (often) violence.
These are two memoirs of life in France from Nobel laureates, that’s why I read them together and also where the similarities end.
“A Movable Feast” details Parisian life (mostly) from 1921-1926, around the time that Hemingway (Hem) would transition from journalism to fiction writing and compose his first novel “The Sun Also Rises.” Unfortunately, this was not written during that time when Hemingways writing was at its sharpest and there isn’t a lot to tell beyond his associations with the other famous writers and artists. The (famous) section about (F) Scott Fitzgerald is the most famous and entertaining character study. The rest is a bit dull and often feels dated (Gertrude Stein) or self pitying (the starving artist who lives meagerly but refuses to “sell out”).
“The Years” is perhaps the best memoir I’ve read. This book narrates the author’s life from her youth after WWII, early adulthood, and middle age. Personal detail are not the focus of the narrative but rather used to describe the experiencing the history of each time period. Without sympathy, Ernaux describes working-class girlhood during the post-war rebuilding phase, sexuality before the legalization of contraception and abortion (as well as the legalization of both), the legalization of “no fault” divorce, family dynamics with adult children, and technological changes moving into the 21st century. This all takes place in ~230 (non-Proustian) pages that mix memories (both personal and consumerist) with stark personal and cultural analysis.
A matter of not judging a book by its cover–this loaf looks nearly perfect on the outside but is a bit small and feels denser than I’d like. The problem being that it just never really hit a phase of fast rising where the activity surpasses the detrimental effects of acid on the gluten. Decisions were made and a slightly dense loaf was chosen over a loaf that went too long and could no longer hold any shape.
