The Horror, The Horror

Cormac McCarthy's Blood Meridian - Report

The party was much reduced on Thursday night, down to just four weary travellers staggering into the cantina. Lisa's horse was lame (parking issues); George was all in black, his face set in ancient stone as if he were looking for a fight; John took out his notebook as if to record the evenings foetid ramblings. Your narrator remained largely detached only breaking form to do a coin trick.

But enough of the parody. This was one of the most fulsome and vocal discussions in a long while, the book's symbolism, brutality and narrative voice provoking the main points of discussion. It was universally 'enjoyed' by the four scalp-hunters present and while weaknesses were alluded to they were largely usurped by praise and acclaim. A particular point of discussion was John's 

love of McCarthy's language and poetry; when John's book looks like a gap-toothed vagrant you know he's had a good time. George made some excellent arguments about McCarthy's use of violence and how it reflected a society, nay, humanity that is inherently brutal and venal. There was some good stuff, too, about how violence can desensitize the soul. Lisa was impressed by the sweep and grandeur of the book and enjoyed a tome that allowed many interpretations and left the reader punch-drunk. I thought the book was largely carried along by its Miltonic poetry and found the audacity of it compelling. We all agreed that we would read it again (although perhaps many years hence) and it would no doubt throw up much more food for thought and perhaps be seen differently again by older, wiser eyes.

There were weaknesses - the repetition, repetition, repetition - grated at times and the middle section felt a bit more detached and unfocussed than the rest, but Blood Meridian was never going to be an easy, plot-driven read. A great work of literature or a pretentious dark mirror to the Bible? This group were most definitely in the former camp, thankfully alive and un-caged.

There was an unsavoury final twist to the evening, however, when Lisa pointed out the man at the bar - a regular donned in shorts made from some beast unknown in these parts. He was quickly dealt with by the four with a brutality and swiftness that initially shocked the other patrons. Stabbed to death, dis-robed, flayed and then hung upside down from a coat stand; a gory example to others contemplating such fashion whimsy. But that was not all. Caught up in the blood fever the other patrons soon discovered their base natures, taking the corpse down from its peg, urinating and sodomising it in turn till they turned to dancing a merry jig on what was left of the flesh and bones. The slick remains were held aloft and carried in jubilant procession up Byres Road and finally burnt outside Crepe a Croissant so that nothing remained except the charred coagulate of his preterite life.

Cormac McCarthy (not) on Shopping

Urban Outfitters

Cormac M. | Author | Lost in the chaparral, NM

And they come there in great numbers shuffling into that mausoleum that was built for them like some monument to the slow death of their world and among those tokens and talismans of that faded empire they forage like scavengers their faces frozen in a rictus of worldweary their clothes preworn in some tropical factory and they shop and they hunt with dullbrown eyes through that cavalcade of false trinkets and those shrinkwrapped mockeries laying there in silent indictment and they reach out to touch those trite things and their faces are slack but in their gullets a scream lies stillborn for they are the kings and the queens reigning over the death of their people and the world is not theirs and never was and the suffering and the horrors are not their doing but the work of their bankrupt forbears and before them stretches an abyss beyond man’s imagining and within their lifetime the promise of a coming reckoning measured in blood and in pestilence and they shuffle through that store near paralytic and finally they take a metal thing with a feather on it and they buy that thing.

http://yelpingwithcormac.tumblr.com/post/13874660168/urban-outfitters

 

Cormac McCarthy (not) on Twitter

Read this story about McCarthy (not) being on Twitter.

A Time Of Gifts

A Time of Gifts: "one of the great masters of English prose at the height of his powers", (Literary Review); "the grandeurs, the courtesies, all are recalled with a sweep and verve that are almost majestic", The Spectator; "A masterpiece", Jan Morris...

Never judge a book by it's cover. This book group failed to be impressed by PLF's poetic prose, love of big words and obscure architectural terms. Tellingly, I thought, only one member had actually finished it. This represents something of a record. It limited the discussion of the book and pretty swiftly we were on to the Jimmy Saville scandal, Donald Trump's bullying ways in the North East and that fantasy programme with lots of boobs in it that Thomas(Game of Thrones) likes to watch.

The book's proponant Martin had really enjoyed the first 40pages he'd read although there was a hint of suspicion that they had caused him a migraine too.

Thomas evinced a genuine admiration for the man though once more seemed to have been reading a different book having got stuck into Artemis Cooper's new HB biography of the man & regaled us with tales of PLF's daring exploits as a guerilla fighter in Corfu during WW2. TQ was also impressed by the effect this book would have had on its publication with its praise for German people at a time when Basil Fawlty's "don't mention the war" attitude still prevailed on these shores. With his tabloid hack background Thomas distilled PLF's travel masterpiece into 'a "shag-athon" across Europe' and sniffed out possible cover-ups in the narrative where the young protaganist had clearly bedded several of the young female supporting characters met along the way.(Surprisingly no reference to homosexuality, necrophilia or boy scouts were made. Give it time).

Lisa voiced the communal feeling of the group that many passages of the book were difficult to understand and quipped that the explanatory footnotes needed footnotes themself!

No one had the courage to come out and say it was awful- Arabella was in self-imposed quarantine- but George's discreet silence & self-confessed 'difficulty with travel books' and Mark's polite praise were damning enough.

It is no secret that I like this book immensely and rate it amongst my all time favourites.
This is a rich book full of detail- perhaps too much. Architecture, art, history, language, geography, ethnology all come into the mix. It is a glimpse of a Europe poised between two great conflicts. It is a marvellously recalled account of a young man's coming of age: "articulate enthusiasm". It is an insight into the relationship between a 60yr old narrator and his teenage self which reminds one of Beckett's monologue "Krapp's Last Tape". It is an exercise in detecting how much of the story is accurate, how much is made up & how much of it has been polished and perfected over countless dinner parties over the intervening 30years.

Above all it is an unashamed romp through the marvellous lexicon of the English language.The author doesn't always strike the balance right but when he does the prose scintillates, his choice of words is perfect and ideas and thoughts are expressed and interlock with breath-taking poetry and clarity.

(Ok now shoot me.)

 

***I did think of posting this in a Cyrillic Font in honour of PLF but the blog doesn't have this option***

Ashplant

Nemesis | The Great Book Give Away | Wine tasting night

Nemesis proved to be one of those books we were all able to agree on. Well, almost. Before George jumps in and accuses me of re writing history again not everyone was UTTERLY BOWLED OVER BY HOW WONDERFUL IT IS. George has doubts about the mid section. Doubting George. Always picking holes. Just because NOT EVERYONE IS BARBARA KINGSOLVER.

The evening was noteworthy in a number of ways. The location was shifted to MY HOUSE, where the red wine flowed like a fast flowing river flowing in a fast flowing way. I drank a bucket load and spent the next day groaning. I stopped groaning about four o'clock in the afternoon. By this time I couldn't remember the evening before. Not clearly enough to write a summary that is.

So, I had to go back to the CCTV footage. Carmen and I installed the CCTV system years and years ago when we were refurbishing the house. It has proven extremely useful as a means of tracing bunches of keys, shoes, children and various rubber instruments.

Arabella "I brought a bag"

This image reminded me that the purpose of the Fergus Drive location was to get rid of some books. But hey, Arabella, if you also need a mini fridge, go for it.

Mark goes in search of the loo

We waded through a lot of books. Most "were rubbish" and are therefore "still on my floor". The Winnie the Pooh erotica has disappeared. I think Martin had it in his pocket as he climbed, or was that more of a stagger, into his taxi at 3am.

Personally I think you missed some real gems. Embossed covers and everything. You will regret leaving those Reginald Hills behind, you know you will.

I hadn't finished Nemesis by the time of the meeting, so wasn't able to get stuck in to WHAT IT ALL MEANT and the IMPORTANCE OF GUILT as a theme, but I've added some thoughts in a blog below, should you want to wade through them. I did finish the book and LOVED IT. Roth is a genius. He is who I want to be when I grow old.

I should add, the quality of discussion amongst the group was particularly high. From Mark's extensive quoting of Latin to Martin's re-enactment of the first act of Hamlet, in which he played the Danish Queen Gertrude, were only two of the highlights. When Cathy offered to dissect our family dog I thought at first she was kidding.

Sadly neither John or Lisa were able to make Wednesday's lushfest. John was prowling the night cityscape taking photographs of the underside of motorways, while Lisa had a prebooking to play the ukelele. There are times when I wish I could make stuff like this up, but it is in fact true.

I should report that the Group had two special guests. Carmen Reid, celebrity author, occasional mother and the TALLEST PERSON PRESENT, sat in on most of the evening, helping with the wine lake.

And Jimmy, the Jack Russell, also made his presence felt before the heat of the fire, or possibly the intellectual rigour of the conversation, finally drove him to the back sitting room. Where he lay in front of the TV clearly wishing we'd turn it on so he could watch Top Gear, as he usually does on a Wednesday night.

Nemesis | Philip Roth | Thomas Quinn writes...

Roth is known for writing magically precise books. Prose that is as polished as the brass railings on an old style fire truck. Nemesis is a gem.

Short, about 230 pages, you'll breeze through this in a couple of sittings. Not just because of the word length but because the narrative is so seamless.

This is one of the most assured storytellers writing today. Roth begins with a factual account of how the Polio epidemic first hit the Newark area in the summer of 1944, before zooming in on the main subject of his novel, Bucky Cantor. Athletic, pure of heart, hard working. Cantor is a physical education teacher and a playground instructor. He loves teaching sports to young boys, seeing them evolve into men. An accomplished diver with a powerful physique, Bucky is however devastated when his poor eyesight prevents him from joining the Marines to serve in WW2. His two best friends head to Europe for the D Day landings. Bucky teaches baseball. Then the illness takes grip.

Roth is writing about his childhood here, about an epidemic many will have forgotten. Polio was defeated in the 1950s, but too late for the thousands who succumbed to it in the early part of the 20th century. It spreads around Newark like a plague. People are in a panic.

Bucky stands tall. He lends support. He encourages the kids to keep playing. Not to worry. But his girlfriend is desperately afraid for him and engineers a job offer -- a chance to get out of Newark, and away from the plague. He is determined to turn it down, but his desire to see her, to have a happy life, takes over. He takes the job. He heads to the mountains.

We discussed Nemesis in our book group and the section at the camp was the only one that drew any criticism. It seemed "too perfect". I can't really agree. This is a nostalgic passage. I sense that Roth is trying to capture something of his childhood here, and in doing so speaks volumes for America of the 1940s, for its ambitions. Its innocence. I found myself wishing I could spend my summers in camps like  the one here, at Indian Hills. I'd love to swim in that lake too. I'd even eat the macaroni cheese.

Spoiler alert

What happens to Bucky is devastating but, as with all great stories that are well told, utterly inevitable. The polio follows Bucky to the camp and strikes his closest friend there. He becomes convinced he is the carrier -- and medical tests prove he has the virus. He falls ill just days later.

Roth wraps the story up cleverly. He projects forward twenty years. Bucky is now an older man and we learn that the narrator of the book is one of the kids from the playground, who caught polio himself, became crippled, but survived.

There is a stark contrast between them, however. The narrator has coped, built a life for himself, had children, a relationship and a satisfying career. Bucky shunned his fiancee, dwelled on his victim status, tore himself apart with guilt. Guilt that he was the "Typhoid Mary" who had infected all the children in his playground. That he was responsible for their deaths.

Guilt is a major theme amongst American Jewish authors. Shalom Auslander's Hope: A Tragedy is built on it. Solomon Kugel moves into a new house and discovers Anne Frank, now an old woman, living in his attic. He had always been made to feel guilty for having survived the Holocaust -- indeed, for having been born decades later, thousands of miles away -- and for not having suffered as Anne did. And now here she is in his attic, demanding Mitzoh crackers, and she won't go away.

But guilt isn't an exclusively Jewish thing. I found Nemesis extremely life affirming. Terrible things happen, but life either goes on or it doesn't. And if it does, then you should make the best of it. Not dwell on what went wrong. But build on what went right.

Poor Bucky Cantor. He might have had a real life. Instead, he became a shadow. Smothered by a sense of guilt, when in reality he was a victim.

Nemesis

Where did all the Gods go? | The book no one chose

First off, congratulations to John for putting so much time and effort into his costume. As you can see from the photo, his bull's head wasn't just fitting in terms of the theme of the book, but it was also deeply impressive as a work of art in itself. He had also shaved his back, so extra bonus points there.

[And this is a man who never drinks anything stronger than cola, people. We should all take note and raise our game accordingly.]

AMERICAN GODS, the subject of the gathering, kept the debate simmering for over two hours. It is perhaps one of the most contentious books WE HAVE EVER READ. I predicted it was 2012's THE POISONWOOD BIBLE, and I don't think I was entirely wrong.

Brilliant in patches, many of us agreed that Gaiman's tour de force was also a baggy, meandering, unfocused and at times surprisingly muddled expression of the novel form.

I have blogged about the book on my own site -- you can take a look here.

My suggestion that the Laketown sequence would have worked as a stand alone book found some support but was shot down by Arabella who seemed to be of the impression that I was jabbering like a stone age witch doctor.

Arabella often has that impression of me. She may well be right.

Three of the group had already read the book when it was chosen. John was one of these and his decision not to re read it was, I felt, regretted by him towards half way into the discussion when he seemed to be confusing it with an entirely different book. Possibly Swallows and Amazons. Perhaps Asterix and the Golden Sickle.

Notably, the meeting functioned on a "single woman quota", with Arabella leaving and Lisa arriving, fresh from her ukelele lesson. [Sadly without her ukelele].

One woman per meeting isn't the official policy of the Book Group. However, members are encouraged to express their opinion on whether the "single woman quota" might be considered for future gatherings.

Did the maleness of the gathering impact, for instance, on the collective understanding of the book? Was maleness significant in American Gods (not Goddesses...). By extension, perhaps we might look into a "single man quota" with male members (ahem) attending on a sort of relay system, contributing to the discussion briefly, one at a time, while the women members stay seated, quaffing large quantities of Babycham. I only mention this as a possibility... This might be particularly suitable, for instance, on nights the meeting clashes with a Champions League match.

Finally, it emerged that the book was chosen by default, under the belief that I had nominated it. I had actually nominated GODS WITHOUT MEN by Hari Kunzru. I can only conclude that Loki, that God of Mischief and Mayhem, had somehow arranged for the mix up, allowing his good friend the Sprite known as Neil Gaiman to accumulate nine more sales of a book that has been published these 11 years and isn't nearly as good as it could have been.

Comments, alternative posts, images and revelations about the true nature of time and space, not only welcome, but actively encouraged...

American Gods | Neil Gaiman | Spending time with the pagans | There's a storm coming

This is a book that keeps coming up. We've referred to it a number of times. It's a book I'd been meaning to read for a while. A book others in the group had read and loved. So choosing it as our August (summer mode) novel seemed perfect.

So we meet on Tuesday, now, August 21. I hope you can all make it. Bring a winnebago if you can. And wrap up warm.

There's a storm coming.

“You're bound to get idears if you go thinkin' about stuff”

The Grapes of Wrath is a book I've been inspired to put on my shortlist since I realised that I had a few songs in my record collection which were inspired by the book and the John Ford film adaptation.

Having looked the book up, it seems it would be a timely read at the moment too....

"No, you’re wrong there—quite wrong there. The bank is something else than men. It happens that every man in a bank hates what the bank does, and yet the bank does it. The bank is something more than men, I tell you. It’s the monster. Men made it, but they can’t control it.”

Are there many other books that have inspired lots of songs down through the decades like this?

Fifth Business | Holy Moly

Not all of us were convinced. Well, I wasn't....

Italo Calvino | If On A Winter's Night A Traveller

Cloud Atlas author David Mitchell gives a terrific introduction to our next book in this eight year old Guardian piece.

It is, as he says, a very eccentric book. A book about books and about reading books, and writing books. Appropriate therefore for a book group. Possibly.

You Tube also has some stuff related to the book. Such as this...

I had forgotten how difficult it is to post here! well, only three people had finished Fifth Business - and we all liked the downplayed view of the world. Looking forward to next month when Thomas and Martin might have finished it as I'd like to hear their thoughts on the main theme of the book as well as the denouement/

JG Ballard would love The Shard

This building is nearly complete. I hope they've read High Rise....

Fancy living on the 58th floor?

Britannia Panopticon

Britannia Panopticon

Does anyone remember some of us at the book club expressing an interest in visiting the Panopticon on Argyle Street?  I seem to remember someone saying that it was quite difficult to find out what events were taking place there, well, they now have a website with a list of upcoming events! 

 http://www.britanniapanopticon.org/events.html

I think this could be an interesting (I've put 'interesting' there instead of any kind of positive committal to the quality of the proceedings!) night out, would quite like to go see something there, the Laurel & Hardy movie night or Gladstone's Bag perhaps.....

I'm not sure if this is correct usage of the blog as it is meant to be about all things book related? So to meet the quota, here is a picture of a book:



Would be good to arrange a night out here if anyone fancies it?

RIP Ray Bradbury 1920-2012

Fifth Business | Robertson Davies

I was sufficiently a Canadian boy to know that Washington was a scoundrel....

Q. Do you do what I call research?

A. I tried to make it as general as possible...

I found that the Jungian attitude was a much more humane one...

As a newspaper man you hear three times as much as you can ever publish...

Cloud Atlas at the moving picture house

Blimey. A lot of Cloud Atlas movies out there. Tome Hanks isn't going to get it all his own way, y'know.

Alas, still no trailer for Hollywood's version. Hope it is a bit better.

The author seems to know what he is talking about at least...

Cloud Atlas | Concept art, apparently

Found this blog about Cloud Atlas the movie... and some concept art that has been released for it showing where the directors, the Wachowski brothers, they of The Matrix fame (sharp intake of breath), appear to be going with it.

I'd half forgotten just how much of the book is set in the near and distant future...

CLOUD ATLAS | David Mitchell

There's a really good interview/book club discussion of Cloud Atlas on the BBC World Service website.

You can follow this link here

There's even a Barbara Kingsolver interview on there, you'll all be delighted to hear.

Saturday Night Sunday Morning | Friday Night Saturday Morning

There was some confusion last Friday as to the purpose of the event.

Arabella led the charge, necking down seventeen bottles of wine and three tequila sunrises. Or Tequila Sedarises as she insisted on calling them. (Apparently he once held her hand and told her she would meet a tall dark stranger).

Martin kept us all entertained by doing a very convincing impersonation of a trainee solicitor out on a Friday night to enjoy a few drinks with friends. His finale involved devouring three fish suppers and a serving of pakora.

Mark arrived late, on a flying carpet.

Cathy went to the wrong pub.

The only sense seemed to eminate from Lisa who, despite prompting, still hasn't written a proper account of her actions. Lisa, your book group needs you (to blog).

As for myself, the detox is still holding. Day 4 without alcohol. Liver feeling much better.

Alan Sillitoe | Saturday Night Sunday Morning

Alan Sillitoe's room. No iPad then...

According to the Guardian's 'Writer's Room feature in 2007, the now late Mr Sillitoe couldn't stand Radio 4 but did listen to Radio 3.

Babcock spotted

A worrying development... he's gone corporate!

The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry | Sometimes a man has to blog, even when others don't

Here's a book you might fancy. You might not. Harold Fry... one unlikely pilgrim. I featured it on the Big Issue book pages the other week. You can read the review via this ere link.

(I have another book column out on the streets on Monday. It's on Running with Kenyans. It isn't a novel, its about an English guy who goes to Africa and, er, runs with Kenyans.)

I really enjoyed Harold Fry, which is one of the Waterstone 11. This, I am assured has nothing to do with The Twelve.....(Babcock... Babcock.....). Nor has it anything to do with Oceans 11 or indeed Catch 22.

Actually, I resisted liking Fry at first because of its sheer Radio 4ness. It really couldn't be more Radio 4-y if it had included a shipping forecast every ten pages. I try however not to be entirely prejudiced against everything on R4, a station I actually listen to most of the time. Of all the speech radio stations it is definitely up there in the top two. However, I do occasionally yearn for it to do something genuinely surprising. But then I think, what would that be? Would I be surprised if, say, they featured a poetry slam on The Archers? No, I say to myself, I probably wouldn't be.

All thoughts and postings on Radio 4, books, Harold Fry and the meaning of Babcock... most welcome.

Still no final pigeon of confirmation from George re the next meeting. But I suspect the previous Tuesday (was that the favoured option?) will be just fine...

True Grit | How the west (end) was won

Clearly we all just read far far too much. Of the (magnificent) seven who came, just one had failed to read the book. To the surprise of everyone, that one was not Thomas 'Poor Excuses' Quinn but Cathy 'Jugglin' Them Chillen' Norton.

What happened was this. We took them early in the morning. Their horses were lame. Their jokes were lamer. We had the upper hand. We had a magician. He completely fooled them with a trick involving a rattle snake and a spinning coin. Or it might have been a rattling coin and a spinning snake. Nobody was quite sure.

Personally, I thought True Grit was an excellent novel. I don't think beans were mentioned more than once. And well worth re reading, Arabella, should you manage to find a spare hour or two between running the Best Damned Dental Surgery In The West.

I really liked the narrator. She was full of purpose and you were never in any doubt what kind of person she was. I loved how she would fill in the narrative with tangents. I really thought it did what a good novel should always do. It gave a fresh perspective on a world we thought we knew. In this case: the lawless west. Plus, I never even imagined Indians might have owned slaves. The thought never occurred. I feel I need to research this more.

Mark, the book I mentioned was Lonesome Dove by Larry McMurtry. I have never read it but I had a friend once who did. He loved it. The fact we are no longer friends is neither here nor there. I never slept with his sister or stole his horse. Click on the coloured bit to find the wiki entry. Lonesome Dove was written in 1985 and was turned into a TV miniseries which featured none other than Robert Duvall, but only because John Wayne refused to be in the movie. Both the TV series and the book are available via Amazon and other book retailers. Be warned, it is 960 pages long. But at just £6.79 for the paperback I'd say that represents excellent value. Yeehaw.

Book piracy

Interesting blog from an author about confronting an online pirate.

Check it out....

Books and Twitter

I know that blogging itself is hi tech for some of you. But Twitter is where it is at. Sort of. In 140 characters or less.

140 Characters? Sounds like a Charles Dickens novel.

Funny article in the Telegraph which you can read by clicking here

True Grit | original cover

Some background on the novel... 

...and I love the idea that it is "like Cormac McCarthy but funny"... 

Ah...posting successful!

True Grit

With a certain social media website constantly changing their own rules when it comes to group pages -- yes, Facebook, I'm looking at YOU -- it seems appropriate to try another means of mass communication.

Few know this but blogs were first invented in ancient China. Confucious wrote the first blog, carving out his thoughts on that morning's breakfast on a piece of bark which he then carried around Beijing on his back. Later, in the 19th century, authors such as Charles Dickens and Wilkie Collins, revived the concept, but used paper and printing presses. Thin pamphlets were produced and passed by hand from gentlefolk to gentlefolk. One such popular blog, written anonymously but thought to be the work of a young Joseph Conrad, consisted entirely of commentary on east London pie shops. In truth, while they had a certain following among the cognoscenti, they never really caught on with the hoi polloi. They only reached a wider audience with the coming of the computer age.

According to my copy of Blogging for Dummies, a blog will allow an informal yet close knit group such as the My Best Friend is Martin Amis to post on such subjects as the books we are reading, books we hope one day to read, and books we wished we'd never heard of. We will also be able to post photos and links... indeed, all the things that Facebook lets us do, but - hopefully - without the irritating friend suggestions and with the inclusion of such social media refuseniks as George and Lisa (assuming they have a computer).

I'll send you details of how to contribute posts to the blog just as soon as I figure out a way. In the meantime please feel free to post your comments below and berate me in any way you feel reasonable.

Also... a reminder:

Next meeting is March 21, 8pm, to discuss True Grit. The venue is most likely the Chip. Western clothing is encouraged but not expected.