Botched & Ecstatic

Month

May 2013

4 posts

“The fantastic is no longer a property of the heart, nor is it found among the incongruities of nature; it evolves from the accuracy of the knowledge, and its treasures lie dormant in documents. Dreams are no longer summoned with closed eyes, but in reading; and a true image is now a product of learning: it derives from words spoken in the past, exact recensions, the amassing of minute facts, monuments reduced to infinitesimal fragments, and the reproductions of reproductions. In the modern experience, these elements contain the power of the impossible. Only the assiduous clamor created by repetition can transmit to us what only happened once. The imaginary is not formed in opposition to reality as its denial or compensation; it grows among signs, from book to book, in the interstice of repetitions and commentaries; it is born and takes shape in the interval between books. It is a phenomenon of the library.” —

THE TEMPTATIONS OF SAINT LIBRARY - Michael Foucault, writing about Flaubert’s doomed novel The Temptation of Saint Anthony. 

The Temptation, as it turns out, was Flaubert in full geek mode: essentially a bestiary, a compendium of creatures meticulously taxonimized and sourced out of documents, paintings, and poems. He considered it a work of the imagination, but it is, apparently, a catalogue of the creations of other creatives. 

Which? Wow. I love this notion: Gustave Flaubert in a fervor, making lists of monsters, unable to control himself and just, totally, losing his way. This has happened, after all, to every writer, at one point or another. Lists! If one lists the contents of a universe, does that count as world-building? Surely, if one diagrams everything a world contains, there must be a story there, right? 

Alas, no. Oh, shit, the story became a sidebar to the monsters. 

I’ve not read The Temptation, but apparently it’s quite bad - over several days in 1849 Flaubert read it aloud to a group of friends, who frantically urged him to throw it in the fire. He’d been working on it feverishly for 4 years. Flaubert subsequently wrote Madame Bovary. However, he kept coming back to The Temptation (it was, after all, a Temptation), and finally, in 1874, he published it. 

I’m sympathetic and charmed by the notion of Flaubert worriedly cataloguing creatures as though he was an ecologist, trapping things between pages before they got away. The same impulse haunts me, every time I search vainly for something arcane that isn’t digitized, (as I am a hopeful hunter, I regularly assume everything I’m seeking has been added to the internet, SOMEWHERE, but no. Wrong.) or think frantic thoughts about the notion of technological obscurity, the demise of discs for clouds, the nervous child in me longing for the physical comforts of a library. 

Ultimately, Flaubert’s Temptation was translated into English by Lafcadio Hearn as well as being the basis shortly after its publication, for a series of magnificent lithographs by Odilon Redon. Not too shabby. The Redon illustrations are exquisite.

As for the book itself, I’m with Foucault here, in my tenderness for the tempted:

 ”Henceforth, the visionary experience arises from the black and white surface of printed signs, from the closed and dusty volume that opens with a flight of forgotten words; fantasies are carefully deployed in the hushed library with its columns of books, with its titles aligned on shelves to form a tight enclosure, but within confines that also liberate impossible worlds.” - Foucault. 

More reading: Colin Dickey’s terrific article about same, The Redemption of Saint Anthony. 

(via mariadahvanaheadley)

May 29, 201315 notes
“The cucumber is bitter? Put it down. There are brambles in the path? Step to one side. That is enough, without also asking: How did these things come into the world at all?” —Marcus Aurelius, quoted in Oliver Burkeman’s The Antidote
May 25, 2013
“Inventing a character in order to understand historical facts is…like planting false proof at a crime scene where the floor is already strewn with incriminating evidence.” —Laurent Binet, HHhH
May 24, 2013
“There have happened, though rarely, in geographical space, journeys taken northward on very blue, fire-blue seas, chilled, crowded by floes, to the final walls of ice. Our judgement lapsed, fatally: we paid more attention to the Pearys and Nansens who returned—and worse, we named what they did “success,” though they failed. We only wept for Sir John Franklin and Salomon Andrée: mourned their cairns and bones, and missed among the poor frozen rubbish the announcements of their victory. By the time we had the technology to make such voyages easy, we had long worded over all ability to know victory or defeat.
What did Andrée find in the polar silence: what should we have heard?”
—Thomas Pynchon, Gravity’s Rainbow
May 16, 2013

April 2013

4 posts

Books Read/Reread March/April

Dante, Inferno*
Anne Carson, Red Doc>
Louise Gluck, Averno*
Maggie Nelson, Bluets*
Fuminori Nakamura, The Thief
Yoko Ogawa, Revenge
Richard Lloyd Parry, People Who Eat Darkness
Mary Shelley, Frankenstein*
Salomon Kroonenberg, Why Hell Stinks of Sulfur
Lafcadio Hearn, Shadowings
Lafcadio Hearn, Some Chinese Ghosts
Isabelle Eberhardt, The Oblivion Seekers
Brian P. Levack, The Devil Within
Caspar Henderson, The Book of Barely Imagined Beings
John Glassie, A Man of Misconceptions
Roland Barthes, Mourning Diary
Shoson Nagahara, Lament in the Night
Lars Iyer, Spurious
Robert Kloss, The Alligators of Abraham
Renata Adler, Speedboat
Melanie Rae Thon, The Voice of the River
Charles Lamb, Essays of Elia
Joni Tevis, The Wet Collection
Domenica Ruta, With or Without You
Dan Beachy-Quick, A Whaler’s Dictionary
Thomas de Quincy, The English Mail-Coach and Other Essays
Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky*

* = reread

Apr 30, 2013
“It’s strange,” he said with a deprecatory smile, “how, ever since I discovered that my passport was gone, I’ve felt only half alive. But it’s a very depressing thing in a place like this yo have no proof of who you are, you know.” —Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky
Apr 8, 2013
“…there was the certitude of an infinite sadness at the core of his consciousness, but the sadness was reassuring, because it alone was familiar.” —Paul Bowles, The Sheltering Sky
Apr 8, 2013
“He calls once more, and this time the wakened owl hisses back in fury. What does he care for human sorrow? These woods are full of bones. When he takes flight, the dead rise up in his spectacular body.” —Melanie Rae Thon, The Voice of the River
Apr 3, 2013

March 2013

4 posts

“We are nothing; less than nothing, and dreams. We are only what might have been, and must wait upon the tedious shores of Lethe millions of ages before we have existence, and a name.” —Charles Lamb
Mar 24, 20132 notes
“Above all, messianism’s got nothing to do with mysticism, says W. He can’t abide mysticism.—‘It’s maths, it’s all about maths!’ He can’t do maths, W. says. This is the great flaw which prevents him really understanding messianism.” —Lars Iyer, Spurious
Mar 18, 2013
“To be alive, it seemed to me, as I stood there in all kinds of sorrow, was to be both original and reflection, and to be dead was to be split off, to be reflection alone.” —Teju Cole, Open City
Mar 1, 20131 note
Books Read/Reread, January/February

Lawrence Durrell, Justine*
Lawrence Durrell, Balthazar*
Lawrence Durrell, Mountolive*
Lawrence Durrell, Clea*
Junius Henderson & Elberta L. Craig, Economic Mammalogy
Mark Derr, How the Wolf Became the Dog
Samuel I. Zeveloff, Raccoons
Bill Wasik & Monica Murphy, Rabid
Geoff Dyer, Zona
Kenneth Anger, Hollywood Babylon
Frank Miller, The Dark Knight Returns
Mat Johnson, Pym
H. P. Shiel, The Purple Cloud
Mary Gaitskill, Veronica*
Robert Walser, Jakob von Gunten*
Italo Calvino, The Baron in the Trees*
Barbara J. Ambros, Bones of Contention
Matias Viegener, 2500 Random Things About Me Too
James Salter, A Sport and a Pastime*
Sean Ferrell, The Man in the Empty Suit
Victoria Braithwaite, Do Fish Feel Pain?
David Foster Wallace, Consider the Lobster
Teju Cole, Open City*
Ben Lerner, Leaving the Atocha Station
Grevel Lindop, The Opium Eater: A Life of Thomas de Quincey
Thomas de Quincey: Confessions of an English Opium-Eater & Other Essays*
Amy Leach, Things That Are
Lisa O’Donnell, The Death of Bees


* = reread

Mar 1, 2013

February 2013

1 post

“He looked about at the dark forest in which they were bivouacked. He nodded towards the specimens he’d collected. These anonymous creatures, he said, may seem little or nothing in the world. Yet the smallest crumb can devour us. Any smallest thing beneath yon rock out of men’s knowing. Only nature can enslave man and only when the existence of each last entity is routed out and made to stand naked before him will he be properly suzerain of the earth.” —Cormac McCarthy, Blood Meridian
Feb 6, 2013

January 2013

3 posts

“Bare reality: what a crook it sometimes is. It steals things, & afterwards has no idea what to do with them. It just seems to spread sorrow for fun.” —Robert Walser, Jakob Von Gunten
Jan 30, 2013
“One is always half mad when one is shy of people.” —Robert Walser, Jakob Von Gunten
Jan 27, 2013
“This mania to perpetuate, to record, to photograph everything! I suppose this must come from the feeling that you don’t enjoy anything fully, indeed are taking the bloom off it with every breath you draw.” —Lawrence Durrell, Balthazar
Jan 2, 2013
Dec 31, 201222 notes

December 2012

4 posts

Dec 29, 20121 note
The 10 Best Books I Read in 2012

The world doesn’t need another best of list, but I found myself fairly alienated by most of the lists I read, many of which seem to regurgitate the same dozen or so titles. My list is not based necessarily on works published in 2012, which always struck me as arbitrary (I don’t read based on the publishing cycle); these are the best books I personally read in 2012. Here they are in no particular order.

1. John D’Agata / Jim Fingal, The Lifespan of a Fact (2012)

I don’t know; one marker of a good book, I think, is that it generates an interesting conversation. A lot of books that keep showing on “best of” lists have none of this; beyond the platitudes in clichés (“I loved this,” “I couldn’t put this down,” etc.), no one really has anything to say about these books. The Lifespan of a Fact is a flawed book, it’s a problematic book, and, in and of itself, it’s far from the best book of the year. But it produced a hell of a conversation, one that was, at least for me, useful and revealing about our relationship to nonfiction and literature.

2. Jan Morris, Hav (2006)

I received this from Riverrun Books’ Paperback to the Future series, in which bookseller Liberty Hardy personally selects a book for you each month. Morris’ Hav, which includes the original 1985, Booker Prize-shortlisted Last Letters from Hav, and a more recent sequel (packaged together by NYRB Classics), is pitch perfect on multiple levels. A faux-travelogue that chronicles an imagined country, it offers an allegory on travel, on nation and culture, on history and on politics, captured by a master travel writer spinning a fantastic tale.

3. Brian Castro, The Bath Fugues (2009)

Castro’s Shanghai Dancing is one of my favorite books of all time, and the only of his currently available in the United States. The Bath Fugues is not quite as powerful as that novel, but it’s still heads above much of what’s being published in America, and with any luck it’ll be available here soon. Ask for it by name.

4. & 5. Lawrence M. Principe, The Secrets of Alchemy & Henry Petroski, To Forgive Design: Understanding Failure (2012)

I reviewed both of these books for LA Review of Books (and both were sent to me for free), and may not have otherwise found them if not for my editor, Evan Kindley, who suggested them (though I reviewed other books for them which were far from my favorites this year). These two, however, were excellent, precisely in the fact that they enlarged my sense of our relationship to history and our relationship to human endeavor. My reviews of both are here and here.

6. E. C. Large, Advance of the Fungi (1940)

Some books just jump out at you from the shelf and demand to be bought. So too with E. C. Large’s 1940 history of our attempts to understand fungi and plant disease. It opens with a heartstopping race to understand potato blight by two botanists in an attempt to stave off the Irish Potato Famine, amidst the complete and criminal indifference of the British government. From there it continues for another 500 pages. I’ll admit I haven’t finished it yet; it exhausted me in its scope and ambition. Even only halfway through, I still think it’s the best book I’ve read in awhile; sometimes the mark of a great book is that you can’t take it all in on the first go.

7. Cheryl Strayed, Tiny Beautiful Things (2012)

Many have listed Strayed’s memoir Wild as one of their favorites of the year, but Tiny Beautiful Things is for me clearly superior. While Wild struck me as a well written and engaging memoir, it didn’t really aim to reinvent the do-a-stupid-thing-in-order-to-come-to-grips-with-horrible-thing-in-one’s-past formula. Tiny Beautiful Things, on the other hand, could reasonably be said to have invented its own genre. That’s worth noting.

8. Louise Gluck, Poems, 1962-2012 (2012)

A book to keep close throughout one’s life.

9. Gilbert Seldes, The Stammering Century (1928)

Another book sent to me to review, and the other book on this list from NYRB Classics. Contemporary with Charles Fort’s The Book of the Damned and Lo!, and Herbert Asbury’s Gangs of New York, a maverick history written by an armchair historian that’s vital, evocative, and necessary. If I get that review published, I’ll link to it; in the meantime, read Evan Kindley’s review of it here.

10. Montague Summers, A History of Demonology and Witchcraft (1926)

Wildly problematic, and yet compulsively readable, Summers’ history of witchcraft is a thoroughly researched history which shed light on things long forgotten and offered fresh translations of documents never before seen in English. At the same time, Summers steadfastly maintained that witches were real, and that the Catholic Church was completely correct in executing most of them—if anything, he suggests, they should’ve killed more. A singular book by a singular individual. At some point a long essay I wrote on Summers may see the light.

Dec 26, 20125 notes
“Best of all, he told me about his days as a ship dismantler, and how an ocean liner could be broken down into thousands of unrecognizable pieces in a ‘breaker’s yard.’… It was, he murmured, a dangerous profession, of course. And it was painful to realize that nothing was permanent, not even an ocean liner. ‘Not even the trireme!’ he said, and nudged me. He had been there to help dismantle the Normandie—‘the most beautiful ship ever built’—as it lay charred and half-drowned in the Hudson River in America. ‘But somehow even THAT was beautiful…because in a breaker’s yard you can discover anything can have a new life, be reborn as part of a car or railway carriage, or a shovel blade. You take that older life and you link it to a stranger.” —Michael Ondaatje, The Cat’s Table (71-72)
Dec 4, 20129 notes
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