The Moons of Jupiter - Alice Munro
In this collection Munro is at her near-best, which is formidable. Her perspective is from the tail end of middle-age. Sometimes she looks back at childhood and parents; sometimes she looks ahead at old age. With both these subjects she does her strongest work. (My favorite story, “Mrs. Cross and Mrs. Kidd,” takes place in a nursing home.) The weakest ones, for me, were about women in their late forties who are caught up in fervent sexual relationships. Their desperation and neediness made me uncomfortable; they’re abject before men who consume their entire being. The men are similar: unprepossessing fellows with a knack for attracting women and then dropping them. Disappointment and loss and death are present in many of these stories. But Munro is a chronicler of life, and the stage she’s exploring in this collection is a difficult one.
Solomon Gursky Was Here - Mordecai Richler
I stopped after reading over 300 pages. This is an ambitious novel, and the author has a great deal of talent. But the talent is given too free a rein. So many, many characters, so many, many plot strands! Each done well, but never coalescing into a coherent whole. Everybody and everything is extreme, overly-colorful. A richness on this scale has to be controlled because it wears the reader down – especially when the reason to be reading this stuff becomes more and more tenuous. Here I am at page 300, and I’m in a bog. Then I went into full critical mode: Why so much raunchiness, and why did Richler (a Jew) cook up such a rotten bunch of Jews? This book became offensive to me.
The Company She Keeps - Mary McCarthy
This is supposed to be a novel, but it’s a group of short stories. No engaging or distinct personalities emerge. This is one of McCarthy’s shortcomings. She can be overly analytical, like a scientist examining human specimens (and sometimes dissecting them). Her writing/dissection is done with such thoroughness that it’s tedious to read her when she’s in this mode. When she cared about her characters (not loved them; just cared) – as in The Groves of Academe or A Charmed Life – her intelligence was used to good purpose.
First Love and Other Stories - Samuel Beckett (French)
Recently I tried Murphy again, and again quit after four or five pages. For me, Beckett is unreadable. I get lost in words that are only vaguely connected to a world I can relate to. Every once in a while some situation or image or personality or feeling will come floating along, and I grasp at it (desperately) but it slips away, and I’m again lost.
Showing posts with label Mordecai Richler. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Mordecai Richler. Show all posts
Saturday, October 11, 2008
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