Nonsuch Book

day at the bookstore

 

As much as I love the kids I teach, this is the best school day of the year for me - book fair day. Fundraising for my library programs gets me a seat in my favorite book store, Politics and Prose, for the whole day as I share our school's story with patrons who can present a coupon at the register so that 20% of their purchase goes to our school book purchases. Sweet. So I am currently residing right outside of the children's department in the best remainder section anywhere. The morning rush is ebbing a bit so I am going remainder shopping. Great books for just a little money. Wish you were here. Back in a little while to show you what I am taking home.

Update: The Haul

 

An hour later, for a comparatively tiny double digit sum:

• Three Evelyn Waugh novels: The Loved One, Scoop, and A Handful of Dust. Have read two of these but own none of them until now. Consider Mr. Waugh the lord and master of devastating satire. Love that splendid prose and the wicked humor.
• Two Irene Nemirovsky novels: David Golder and Le Bal. Have never read the author but have recently gathered some of her work. May read all at once - one after the other.
• Wintry Peacock by D.H. Lawrence. A Hesperus edition. The blurb excerpt drew me in. " 'Mon cher Alfred' - it might have been a bit of torn newspaper. So I followed the script: the trite phrases of a letter from a French-speaking girl to an English soldier. 'I think of you always, always. Do you think sometimes of me?' And then I vaguely realised that I was reading a man's private correspondence."
• Vox by Nicholson Baker. Baker does erotic fiction. I don't read chick lit people so I have to indulge some vices. 
• NYRB edition of The Unknown Masterpiece by Honore de Balzac. A "fable of modern art," inspiration to the likes of Cezanne, Henry James, Picasso, Jacques Rivette. 
• Claudine's House by Colette. With a foreward by Doris Lessing. Hesperus edition. Portrayal of childhood bathed in familial warmth and the natural beauty of the French countryside. Thinking comfort read through holiday season. Good read after I engage in one on one combat with some other disturbed suburban mom in a Toys R Us holiday buying spree over a piece of over-packaged plastic. Must rethink my consumerism. I say with my new bag of books next to me.
• Look At Me by Anita Brookner. Love story about a librarian. With brilliant writing. Enough said.
• Hyde Park Gate News by Virginia Woolf, Vanessa Bell with Thoby Stephen. Their childhood newspapers about life in their home. 
• Inner Workings: Literary Essays 2000-2006 by J.M. Coetzee.
• Three Paul Auster novels at a steal: The Brooklyn Follies, Man in the Dark, and Travels in the Scriptorium.
• Creationists: Selected Essays 1993-2006 by E.L. Doctorow. A consideration of creativity in its many forms.

See anything you might recommend?

waiting on monsieur pain by roberto bolano

"Waiting On" Wednesday is a weekly event, hosted by Breaking the Spine, that spotlights upcoming releases that we're eagerly anticipating. 

"Paris, 1938. The Peruvian poet Cesar Vallejo is in the hospital, afflicted with an undiagnosed illness, and unable to stop hiccuping. His wife calls on an acquaintance of her friend Madame Reynaud: the Mesmerist Pierre Pain. Pain, a timid bachelor, is in love with the widow Reynaud, and agrees to help. But two mysterious Spanish men follow Pain and bribe him not to treat Vallejo, and Pain takes the money. Ravaged by guilt and anxiety, however, he does not intend to abandon his new patient, but then Pain's access to the hospital is barred and Madame Reynaud leaves Paris.... Another practioner of the occult sciences enters the story (working for Franco, using his Mesmeric expertise to interrogate prisoners)-as do Mme. Curie, tarot cards, an assassination, and nightmares. Meanwhile, Monsieur Pain, haunted and guilty, wanders the crepuscular, rainy streets of Paris..."

Monsieur Pain by Roberto Bolano is due out in January 2010 from New Directions.

catalog lust: faber seasonal catalogue january - june 2010

 

Love book catalogs. Love them. But how often do they look like this? Am head over heels for these Faber folks and their appreciation of superior design. Check out the whole catalog here. Doesn't the cover remind you a little of We Are the Friction? Picked up this info off a tweet yesterday. Seems Faber wants to know what looks good to you here. Are you kidding? What doesn't look good. I would even pay for the catalog. Sad but true. But if I were to be shopping here...

 

 

I always go poetry from Faber.

kristin lavransdatter: the wreath

 

"Kristin was quiet and shy when she was with her betrothed; she found little to talk about with him. One evening when everyone had been sitting and drinking, Simon asked her to go outside with him to get some fresh air. As they stood on the gallery in front of the loft room, he put his arm around her waist and kissed her. After that, he did it often whenever they were alone. She wasn't pleased by this, but she allowed him to do it because she knew there was no escape from the betrothal. Now she thought of her marriage as something she had to do, but not something that she looked forward to. And yet she liked Simon well enough, especially when he was talking to the others and did not touch her or speak to her."

I do not believe that this passage from The Wreath, the first part of the Kristin Lavransdatter trilogy by Nobel Prize winner Sigrid Undset, was intended to be funny. But laughing I was, here and in a few other parts as well. This is always what I fear when I hear "historical fiction" or the dreaded word "saga." Characters whose story is not so much reflective of the historical references in which they are couched as they are placed upon an historical staging. Undset's depictions of medieval Norway are often well-rendered, and she tells her story of Kristin's coming of age in The Wreath with skill and a boldness in terms of sexual frankness that must have been cutting edge in its day. But Kristin's story, that of a young woman spurning the well-regarded suitor her parents have brought before her for a spoiled but disgraced knight who, even judged by the patriarchal society of the day, is somewhat of a misogynist, has not drawn me in yet. But in the best of company for this shared read, I will keep reading. This may get better. This is just the first book of three. 

This read leaves me questioning so much about the genre of historical fiction. It is easy, as I have done here, to play the snob, and say that this is not normally my cup of tea. To make assumptions based upon a conflation of historical fiction and historical romantic fiction. To equate the genre with reductive anti-feminist works, or novels that infuse a modern female sensibility and empowerment inappropriately for the historical period depicted. But the truth is, I do like some historical fiction. We all do. We may prefer to say we only enjoy postmodern historical fiction. We may prefer not to think of that treasured The Name of the Rose as representative of the genre. But it is. So how do we define historical fiction? How broad? Think I will give it two more parts of Kristin Lavransdatter before I take up this question again.

So what do I like about The Wreath? The descriptions of the natural beauty of Norway. They kept me reading for their simple beauty.

''For those who were waiting for the redemption of spring, it seemed as if it would never come. The days grew long and bright, and the valley lay in a haze of thawing snow while the sun shone. But frost was still in the air, and the heat had no power. At night it froze hard; great cracking sounds came from the ice, a rumbling issued from the mountains, and the wolves howled and the foxes yipped all the way down in the village, as if it were midwinter. . . . Kristin went out on such a day, when the water was trickling in the furrows of the road and the snow glistened like silver across the fields. Facing the sun, the snowdrifts had become hollowed out so that the delicate ice lattice of the crusted snow broke with the gentle ring of silver when she pressed her foot against it. But wherever there was the slightest shadow, the air was sharp with frost and the snow was hard."

Wouldn't mind being there. Just wish Kristin and her ill-chosen husband weren't hanging about. Feel like her father crying into his hands at the thought of it all. And hoping things look up from here.

sunday salon: postponing proust, grey christmas, still with the bears

 

A few of you reading Proust with me have emailed this week to say that they are in no way ready for The Guermantes Way this week. Guess what? Neither am I. I could cobble something together just to meet our deadline, but what would be the point? Kind of defeats the purpose of that slow, leisurely read of Proust we all crave. So.... Let's try the last day of the year instead - December 31. Maybe that will even prompt a few new readers to join us?

 

All the talk of Persephone Books of late has intrigued me. Started receiving the catalogue and Biannually magazine but have yet to take the plunge and actually order some titles. When I saw this week that Book Psmith is "dreaming of a grey christmas," I knew that I wanted to receive my first Persephone as part of this holiday gift exchange. Our hostess was even kind enough to email me to say that she envies the person who gets to buy me my first.

So simple. Email the hostess with your contact and blog info and list of Persephones owned. You will be assigned a random person to gift. (And someone will receive your name too of course.) Search their blog, scan their list, and make the best choice for that individual. Full details here. Quickly, friends. The names will be drawn and assigned on November 11.

 

Now, no more chit chat. Back to that new John Irving. Thought I would be done by now but the finish line was pushed back by one very fun The Woman in Black, kiddo Halloween merriment, and the reading of four great new children's books this week for work. What are you reading in the Sunday Salon today?

the woman in black by susan hill

 

Malevolence. Something grand about the word, and the way it flows off the tongue. I think of Maleficent in Disney's Sleeping Beauty, the evil fairy who seeks to take the life of Princess Aurora on her sixteenth birthday in vengeance for not being invited to a party. Yes, a little over the top but that is the appeal. A villain who is powerful beyond the constraints of mere mortal existence, who has an appeal outside of the conventionally acceptable. Someone who indulges our desire for the fun of a good fright at a removed and safe distance from actual peril. The word malevolence is on my mind today not just because of Halloween, but because I just finished Susan Hill's classic ghost story, The Woman in Black, a book where the word malevolence serves as a literal refrain in the prose.

The Woman in Black is a quick and compelling ghost story that should be read in one sitting if at all possible. The book begins in the safety and happiness of a family at Christmas sharing ghost stories beneath the lit Christmas tree. However, the father in this family refuses to offer a story, not seeing the fun in such an exchange. It is soon revealed that he has real ghosts to exorcise from his past. He vows to do just this by writing the entire story down rather than burdening his family with these disturbing truths from his youth. 

As a young solicitor, Arthur Kipps is given the task of visiting the remote Eel Marsh House to attend the funeral of a longtime firm client and settle her estate. At the funeral, he glimpses a woman he assumes to be a fellow mourner, but is set ill at ease by her sickly appearance and the dated clothes she wears. He feels compassion for her but does not yet suspect the reality of her presence. He feels a mild sense of foreboding as the town's people refuse to discuss the house or the circumstances that bring him to Crythin Gifford. The next day, after he is left at the remotely located house of the deceased client, he begins to realize the eeriness of his present circumstances when he spies the woman in black again, this time on the estate's old burial grounds.

"In the greyness of the fading light, it had the sheen and pallor not of flesh so much as of bone itself. Earlier, when I had looked at her, although admittedly it had been scarcely more than a swift glance each time, I had not noticed any particular expression on her ravaged face, but then I had, after all, been entirely taken with the look of extreme illness. Now, however, as I stared at her, stared until my eyes ached in the sockets, stared in surprise and bewilderment at her presence, now I saw that her face did wear an expression. It was one of what I can only describe - and the words seem hopelessly inadequate to express what I saw - as a desperate, yearning malevolence; it was as though she were searching for something she wanted, needed - must have, more than life itself, and which had been taken from her. And, towards whoever had taken it she directed the purest evil and hatred and loathing, with all the force that was available to her."

I will stop there as who really wants spoilers with a story like this? The Woman in Black is not the best book I have ever read, but it is really good fun. The story is well-delivered in a manner that lightly mirrors both the language and the ghost-telling conventions of the time in which it was set. Hill does a wonderful job with the atmospherics (you will feel the threat of the very specifically described personified and menacing fog), and, if read at one sitting, you will feel the dread than terror of the protagonist yourself. Yes, you may see the ending coming 40 pages before it actually arrives. Yes, you may be frustrated at the young solicitor's stubborn determination to return and sleep over at the house he senses contains some undetermined evil. But that is all part of the fun isn't it? Happy Halloween!

is this your algonquin round table?

 

The Neiman Marcus Christmas Book is out, and one customer with $200,000 will have the opportunity to dine at the famed Algonquin Hotel with what the catalog describes as "an impressive array of literati." And who might the dinner company include? Christopher Buckley, Roz Chast, Delia Ephron, Nora Ephron, Henry Louis Gates, Jr., Malcolm Gladwell, Adam Gopnik, Lewis H. Lapham, John Lithgow, Anna Deavere Smith, George Stephanopoulos, and Ali Wentworth.

Uh...OK. Help me here. These people are not exactly slackers but something seems wrong here. Let me feed you a little more. Also in the catalog description: 

"Imagine hosting the brightest minds of modern literature, journalism, and the arts. An exclusive private dinner party of fine food, engaging wit, and sparkling conversation at New York City’s legendary, literary Algonquin Hotel."

Now look back at the list again. Is this your notion of the Algonquin Round Table? Who would you have on this list?

The up side here: all proceeds benefit First Book, superstars at placing great books in the hands of needy children. Not up for the six figure splurge? Slide a smaller amount First Book's way instead. 

say you're one of them by uwem akpan

 

The adult book club at the school where I teach picked Say You're One Of Them for our October read weeks before the Oprah news. And no matter what you think of the Oprah Book Club machine, I believe that if you read this book, you will agree that this is a gutsy pick for a brand that has become associated with mass market appeal. This book is devastating in its depictions of violence and deprivation as experienced through the eyes of some of Africa's children. It is consuming, gut-wrenching, and so subtly blends it's unvarnished realism with the craft of fine storytelling, that the reader hardly knows where they have landed upon completing this collection of short stories. This is not a feel-good book club choice. It is a fine one though for the stout of heart.

The description from the publisher:

"Each story in this jubilantly acclaimed collection pays testament to the wisdom and resilience of children, even in the face of the most agonizing circumstances. 

A family living in a makeshift shanty in urban Kenya scurries to find gifts of any kind for the impending Christmas holiday. A Rwandan girl relates her family’s struggles to maintain a facade of normalcy amid unspeakable acts. A young brother and sister cope with their uncle’s attempt to sell them into slavery. Aboard a bus filled with refugees—a microcosm of today’s Africa—a Muslim boy summons his faith to bear a treacherous ride across Nigeria. Through the eyes of childhood friends the emotional toll of religious conflict in Ethiopia becomes viscerally clear."

Akpan's prose has been repeatedly described as "translucent," revealing the minute details of savaged innocence without sentiment, without judgement. Take for instance this passage from the first story in the collection, "An Ex-Mas Feast:"

"Mama smiled at the glue and winked at me, pushing her tongue through the holes left by her missing teeth. She snapped the tin's top expertly, and the shack swelled with the smell of a shoemaker's stall. I watched her decant the kabire into my plastic "feeding bottle." It glowed warm and yellow in the dull light. Though she still appeared drunk from last night's party, her hands were so steady that her large tinsel Ex-mas bangles, a gift from a church Ex-mas party, did not even sway. When she had poured enough, she cut the flow of the glue by tilting the tin up. The last stream of the gum entering the bottle weakened and braided itself before tapering in midair like an icicle. She covered the plastic with her palm, to retain the glue's power. Sniffing it would kill my hunger in case Maisha did not return with an Ex-mas feast for us."

Everyone who read for this month's book club meeting agreed that this was like no other book they had ever read. Where one would expect repulsion, one cannot turn away. Where one would expect to pity, one finds oneself celebrating the uniqueness and spirit of these young voices whose depictions both resist the trite and challenge our assumptions. Highly recommended. And I want you to read it. We had four leftover books from the copies so kindly provided by Hachette. First four people to email me (address at my upper left sidebar) with your shipping address will receive a copy.

Say You're One of Them homepage hosted by Hachette

Read along with Oprah's Book Club 

book lust: books burn badly by manuel rivas

 

Came across this today at Caustic Cover Critic. A mosaic of 36 book covers to comprise one very cool book cover design. Due out in February. Found a synopsis. 

"On 19 August 1936 Hercules the boxer stands on the quayside at Coruña and watches Fascist soldiers piling up books and setting them alight. It is a moment which transforms a young group of friends, who just weeks before had spent their days sunbathing beneath the lighthouse, into a broken generation. 

Out of this incident during the early months of Spain’s tragic civil war, Manuel Rivas weaves a colourful tapestry of stories and unforgettable characters to create a panorama of twentieth-century Spanish history. For it is not only the lives of Hercules the boxer and his friends that are tainted by the unending conflict, but also those of a young washerwoman who sees souls in the clouded river water and the stammering son of a judge who uncovers his father’s hidden library. 

Rivas’ depiction of life under Franco’s dictatorship reveals violence and betrayal but also irrepressible humour and love, and stands as a testament to the indomitable freedom of the human imagination. Few novels become classics during their authors’ lifetimes, but in Books Burn Badly Manuel Rivas has produced an astonishing masterpiece. This is a poet’s evocation of his native land and its collective memory. As the singed pages fly away on the breeze, their stories live on in the minds of their readers."

What do you know about this book? The author?

sunday salon: at last, the new john irving

 

The Wreath, the first part of Kristin Lavransdatter is read, and I am ready to post on it come Halloween morning as part of a group read. I have put Dracula aside for the time being as it does not suit my current reading needs. Nearly ready to post on the devastating Say You're One of Them. And good to go on The Woman in Black, this month's Slaves of Golconda read. Now is the moment I have been waiting for these last few months. Today I pick up the new John Irving novel, his twelfth, Last Night in Twisted River.

I imagine those of you reading this falling into three camps - don't care or don't know the author's work, stopped thinking of his novels as events three novels ago, or just as excited as me. Will save my whole spiel for after I have read the book but thought I might illuminate my Irving love by employing two recent quotes:

"There's one thing that readers take away from many of my stories, which is don't take the people you love for granted. Love them while they're there, because you don't know how the story ends."

and

"One's obsessions as a writer – those things that recur but are unplanned – they just insist upon themselves."

 

For those of you interested in those sometimes maligned recurring Irving themes, have some fun at this Wikipedia post that charts the appearances of bears, New England, wrestling, Vienna, prostitutes, deadly accidents, absent parents, writing, film-making, and sexual variations in the author's body of work. To my fellow Irving fans, let's put the discussion aside temporarily as we take up the book arriving in stores Tuesday.

Off to read.

What are you reading in the Sunday Salon today?