Saturday, March 01, 2025

How interesting …

Irish flourish at the New Yorker (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Appreciation …

Maugham the Master - Chronicles [Hat tip, Dave Lull.) Maugham happens to be one of my favorire authors. Of course, I'm so old, I remember watching the TV show of his stories that was on in the early '50s, which he appeared on.

Q&A …

Dana Gioia is one of the world’s greatest living poets. (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Appreciation …

Gene%20Hackman%u2019s%20Unsentimental%20Grit%20-%20WSJ (Hat tip, Dave Lull.)

Sunday, February 16, 2025

Kazuo Ishiguro

 


It had been quite some time since I last read a novel by Kazuo Ishiguro, but over the past week, for whatever reason, I found myself reading -- and enjoying -- An Artist of the Floating World

This is one of Ishiguro's earliest novels, and while it may not be as evolved as Remains of the Day, say, it is a succesful work in its own right. Much of that success owes, in my estimation, to Ishiguro's narration: this is book which embarks on a series of tangents and asides, and for every step forward, there are several backward or to the side. The result, though, is not confusion: it is a holistic sense for the primary character, his history and evolution, and his relationships with family and friends.

If I had a critique of Floating World it would focus on its politics: Ishiguro flirts with Japan's imperial past and its authoritarian governments leading to the Second World War. But he never fully exposes this: his characters reference the war -- and Japan's eventual defeat -- but they do so from a distance: all of the politics here are cloaked in generalities or innuendo. It is the art which seems to draws Ishiguro's attention.

I recognize, of course, that Floating World was not strictly intended as a political novel: nor, specifically, as a history of Japan. Instead, it is a novel about reputation, apprenticeship, and advancement. Ishiguro's central character -- the aging Masuji Ono -- represents the arch of artistic fulfillment. (That fulfillment may have achieved a sort of transcendence, but it is also checkered with regret and contrition.) At the same time, however, Ono represents the sum of his memories, which take him from one story to the next. I hesitate to use the word "fractured" -- because that is not what this is novel is about: instead, it is about, perhaps, the potential for memories to come together to forge something profound: something approaching identity. 

An Artist of the Floating World has lots of interesting things to say about art and its interplay with personal identity (and yes, politics too). This is an eminently readable novel worthy of thought and reflection.

Tuesday, January 28, 2025

Janet Malcolm

 


I didn't know much about Janet Malcolm, but this past week, I finished Still Pictures, a posthumous collection of essays loosely focused on Malcolm and her family. I say loosely because, in the end, as Malcolm's daughter notes in her afterward, this collection is not strictly autobiographical. In each chapter, Malcolm takes a grainy old image and uses it as an entry point into the past, into her past. There are essays focused, primarily, on Malcolm's family and their emigration from Czechoslovakia to America; there are other pieces, though, about religion, American culture, and intellectual life -- both in Europe and the States. For me, what was most refreshing about this collection was its brevity, confidence, and wit: Malcolm does not reach for too much, and she does not focus her gaze entirely on herself: instead, her view is outward, from the original image to its context and history. In many ways, the result is a social history of the first half of the twentieth century: from the wars to the Cold War and beyond. For those with a special appreciation for Czech history, this collection will be particularly rewarding. All told, Still Pictures was a book to savor, and was evocative -- in all the right ways -- of Sebald, Berger, and other greats.

Another poem

Today’s Poem: A Flower Given to My Daughter.

Classy mail …

The Illustrated Envelopes of Edward Gorey.

Arise and go now …

I hear it in the deep heart’s core.

Stars of the mind and heart …

Constellation of Genius: Miłosz, Camus, Einstein, and Weil.

A poem for this morning …

Robert Creeley — Night