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Interrogative mood
Un romanzo? Una provocazione pop? Un libro giocoso e serissimo, un divertissement letterario, una sfida. Un libro che interroga, e che ha unito nell’entusiasmo scrittori come Richard Ford e Jonathan Safran Foer.
«Sei felice? Ti fidi almeno di te stesso? Conosci le differenze, empiriche o teoriche, tra muschi e licheni?» A quante di queste domande riuscirai a rispondere? Quante ti strapperanno un sorriso, o un moto di esasperazione, o ti costringeranno a riflettere? Sono importanti, le risposte? O è più importante avere il coraggio di farsi delle domande? Ed è vero che le domande aiutano a sentirsi vivi?
Hai voglia di lasciarti contagiare da questo spirito interrogativo, da questo interrogative mood?
«Sei felice? Ti fidi almeno di te stesso? Conosci le differenze, empiriche o teoriche, tra muschi e licheni?» A quante di queste domande riuscirai a rispondere? Quante ti strapperanno un sorriso, o un moto di esasperazione, o ti costringeranno a riflettere? Sono importanti, le risposte? O è più importante avere il coraggio di farsi delle domande? Ed è vero che le domande aiutano a sentirsi vivi?
Hai voglia di lasciarti contagiare da questo spirito interrogativo, da questo interrogative mood?
140 pages, Paperback
First published January 1, 2009
122 people are currently reading
2246 people want to read
About the author
Padgett Powell
38 books110 followersPadgett Powell is the author of four novels, including Edisto, which was nominated for the National Book Award. His writing has appeared in the New Yorker, Harper’s, The Paris Review, Esquire, and other publications, as well as in the anthologies Best American Short Stories and Best American Sports Writing. He lives in Gainesville, Florida, where he teaches writing at MFA@FLA, the writing program of the University of Florida.
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Displaying 1 - 30 of 314 reviews
June 15, 2013
(Goddamnit, Goodreads, will you ever give us the half-star option? Why do I have to specify that this was better than a three-star read but isn't quite a four-star one either, thus negating whatever rating I choose by at least half a degree?)
Would you concede that the failure is on the reader's rather than the writer's part if the reader began a novel with an inward groan regarding the page count? Does the reader deserve whatever lukewarm karmic smackdown comes with approaching a novel with stubborn trepidation? Doesn't subtitling a book with "A Novel?" successfully present what the reader should reasonably expect?
Does a barrage of questioning betray more about the questioner or the questionee? Are you, as the one being interrogated, inclined to stop after each inquiry to mull over each one and arrive at an honest yet satisfying answer, or does your mind wander until one of the queries lobbed at you catches your attention? Do you feel that there's an inherent selfishness in either approach? Does this concern you?
Are you comfortable with the notion that questions are not the same as accusations, that queries can suggest social concerns that one feels are imperative to address but may sound presumptuously off-putting as statements, or that the interrogator is simply looking for reassurance that he is not as alone in his idiosyncratic actions and beliefs as he both fears and hopes?
What would coerce you into reading a book of nothing but questions? Is such an exercise, perhaps, proof that sometimes good writing can be enjoyed for good writing's sake, serving as a showcase of sorts for what can happen when a knack for piecing together well-crafted sentences is allowed to run free from the technical restraints of both fiction, such as plot, character development, a satisfying resolution, and non-fiction, like factual assertions and thoroughly researched novel propositions? Or is it just fruitless, public onanism to approximate what a session with a psychiatrist suffering from both verbal diarrhea and a penchant for coke must feel like? Is this much introspection, no matter how well-crafted it is, healthy? Whose ego, really, benefits the most from a novel of this nature existing?
But wouldn't you agree that a narrative comprising nothing but an endless string of questions is the ultimate success of showing rather than telling? And that maybe a deliberate schtick can also be the most successful execution of this irony that the kids find so hip today, a deft obfuscation of something worthwhile by a chintzy exterior?
Would it surprise you that being asked for your opinions and reactions and preferences between two equally terrible scenarios would teeter equally between mild tedium and forcing your imagination to confront this seemingly endless stream of solicitation to the extent that you did, in fact, many times go spiraling down the rabbit hole of a self-propelled "What if... ?" game that led you to find this novel, ultimately, more charming than grating.
If you choose to pen a review in the style of a book like this, do you frame your own questions to obliquely express your opinion? Or to show off your own damnable cleverness with half-vapid, half-quirky queries that don't really relate to the preceding or following ones? Or do you embrace this as an opportunity to trot out some of the useless trivia that no one but yourself knows you have stored away in fervent anticipation of a future "Jeopardy!" success (for which you also have a short biographical nugget also at the ready)?
And do you consult a thesaurus so you're not using the word "question" in every sentence if you do choose to write an homage-flavored review? (Did you know that the dictionary program on my aged work Mac only proffered three viable alternatives to the word "question"? Do you not understand how difficult it is to alternate among the same few words without sounding like a lexically bereft simpleton?)
How annoyed do you get when you realize that what you thought were original ideas -- like likening a novel of reader-aimed questions to an inquisitive, paler cousin of If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, or scribbling a list of questions upon which to build a gimmicky review only to scratch them out one by one as the book preemptively regifts them to you in better packaging -- are discovered to be conclusions at which better minds arrived before you? Does it bother you in the way that simply inconsiderate gestures do, like when casually strolling pairs maintain the two-person width between themselves even as you try to pass them and are forced to detour off the sidewalk as you give them a dirty look that neither buffoon has the decency to see, or does it eat at your otherwise affable demeanor the way that potentially fatal discourtesies do, like when people drive in recklessly dismissive ways with not a thought to the motorists with whom they're sharing a road and also threatening with a vehicular manslaughter charge waiting to happen because they have one hand on their phone, one holding a cup of coffee and neither eye on the road?
Are you more bothered by this because you felt genuine ownership of these observations or because asking them anyway may make you look like an intellectual thief? Or do you find some comfort in knowing that at least one other person has pondered the same musings you thought no one else entertained and are relieved that others have at least been forced into awareness of thoughts that now feel less isolating and more communal? Is losing some of the novelty of previously unshared ruminations worth gaining tenuous unity?
Would you think less of me if I admitted that I read 164 pages of questions solely as an excuse to write a review comprising nothing but questions? Can you reasonably expect a review of a wholly interrogative novel to be anything else?
Would you concede that the failure is on the reader's rather than the writer's part if the reader began a novel with an inward groan regarding the page count? Does the reader deserve whatever lukewarm karmic smackdown comes with approaching a novel with stubborn trepidation? Doesn't subtitling a book with "A Novel?" successfully present what the reader should reasonably expect?
Does a barrage of questioning betray more about the questioner or the questionee? Are you, as the one being interrogated, inclined to stop after each inquiry to mull over each one and arrive at an honest yet satisfying answer, or does your mind wander until one of the queries lobbed at you catches your attention? Do you feel that there's an inherent selfishness in either approach? Does this concern you?
Are you comfortable with the notion that questions are not the same as accusations, that queries can suggest social concerns that one feels are imperative to address but may sound presumptuously off-putting as statements, or that the interrogator is simply looking for reassurance that he is not as alone in his idiosyncratic actions and beliefs as he both fears and hopes?
What would coerce you into reading a book of nothing but questions? Is such an exercise, perhaps, proof that sometimes good writing can be enjoyed for good writing's sake, serving as a showcase of sorts for what can happen when a knack for piecing together well-crafted sentences is allowed to run free from the technical restraints of both fiction, such as plot, character development, a satisfying resolution, and non-fiction, like factual assertions and thoroughly researched novel propositions? Or is it just fruitless, public onanism to approximate what a session with a psychiatrist suffering from both verbal diarrhea and a penchant for coke must feel like? Is this much introspection, no matter how well-crafted it is, healthy? Whose ego, really, benefits the most from a novel of this nature existing?
But wouldn't you agree that a narrative comprising nothing but an endless string of questions is the ultimate success of showing rather than telling? And that maybe a deliberate schtick can also be the most successful execution of this irony that the kids find so hip today, a deft obfuscation of something worthwhile by a chintzy exterior?
Would it surprise you that being asked for your opinions and reactions and preferences between two equally terrible scenarios would teeter equally between mild tedium and forcing your imagination to confront this seemingly endless stream of solicitation to the extent that you did, in fact, many times go spiraling down the rabbit hole of a self-propelled "What if... ?" game that led you to find this novel, ultimately, more charming than grating.
If you choose to pen a review in the style of a book like this, do you frame your own questions to obliquely express your opinion? Or to show off your own damnable cleverness with half-vapid, half-quirky queries that don't really relate to the preceding or following ones? Or do you embrace this as an opportunity to trot out some of the useless trivia that no one but yourself knows you have stored away in fervent anticipation of a future "Jeopardy!" success (for which you also have a short biographical nugget also at the ready)?
And do you consult a thesaurus so you're not using the word "question" in every sentence if you do choose to write an homage-flavored review? (Did you know that the dictionary program on my aged work Mac only proffered three viable alternatives to the word "question"? Do you not understand how difficult it is to alternate among the same few words without sounding like a lexically bereft simpleton?)
How annoyed do you get when you realize that what you thought were original ideas -- like likening a novel of reader-aimed questions to an inquisitive, paler cousin of If on a Winter's Night a Traveler, or scribbling a list of questions upon which to build a gimmicky review only to scratch them out one by one as the book preemptively regifts them to you in better packaging -- are discovered to be conclusions at which better minds arrived before you? Does it bother you in the way that simply inconsiderate gestures do, like when casually strolling pairs maintain the two-person width between themselves even as you try to pass them and are forced to detour off the sidewalk as you give them a dirty look that neither buffoon has the decency to see, or does it eat at your otherwise affable demeanor the way that potentially fatal discourtesies do, like when people drive in recklessly dismissive ways with not a thought to the motorists with whom they're sharing a road and also threatening with a vehicular manslaughter charge waiting to happen because they have one hand on their phone, one holding a cup of coffee and neither eye on the road?
Are you more bothered by this because you felt genuine ownership of these observations or because asking them anyway may make you look like an intellectual thief? Or do you find some comfort in knowing that at least one other person has pondered the same musings you thought no one else entertained and are relieved that others have at least been forced into awareness of thoughts that now feel less isolating and more communal? Is losing some of the novelty of previously unshared ruminations worth gaining tenuous unity?
Would you think less of me if I admitted that I read 164 pages of questions solely as an excuse to write a review comprising nothing but questions? Can you reasonably expect a review of a wholly interrogative novel to be anything else?
December 2, 2009
How many goodreaders does it take to screw in a light bulb? Who would you rather have next to you in a fight, Howard or Powell? Would goodreads be completely dead during the day if it weren't for alt-tab?
Will "LOL!!!!GOOD BUDDY" comments ever get old? What are the chances Brian will see "New Moon" this weekend? Why is it when you tell someone to hurry they all of a sudden move slower? How many books do you bring on a road trip? Do squirrels like cheese? Why are all my goodreaders so great?
Have you ever been at a bookstore about to buy a book but stop to check goodreads first to see which of your friends has read it? Have you ever a bought a book in the last year without checking goodreads first to see which of your friends has read it? Have you ever not bought a book because no one on gr had read it?
How many bookstores in one weekend is too many? Have you ever experienced bookstore blackout and wake up surrounded by stacks of books you don't recall buying? Does D.Pow know that I'm stalking him?
What is the going price for a poem written by a bum just for you outside a bookstore? Have you ever laughed out loud because of goodreads and confused co-workers who thought you were working on something very important and not funny at all? Is there truly progress? How much Thai food is too much Thai food? When is David going to be David again and not a creepy dwarf?
Could you ever read a book that consisted of nothing but questions?
Will "LOL!!!!GOOD BUDDY" comments ever get old? What are the chances Brian will see "New Moon" this weekend? Why is it when you tell someone to hurry they all of a sudden move slower? How many books do you bring on a road trip? Do squirrels like cheese? Why are all my goodreaders so great?
Have you ever been at a bookstore about to buy a book but stop to check goodreads first to see which of your friends has read it? Have you ever a bought a book in the last year without checking goodreads first to see which of your friends has read it? Have you ever not bought a book because no one on gr had read it?
How many bookstores in one weekend is too many? Have you ever experienced bookstore blackout and wake up surrounded by stacks of books you don't recall buying? Does D.Pow know that I'm stalking him?
What is the going price for a poem written by a bum just for you outside a bookstore? Have you ever laughed out loud because of goodreads and confused co-workers who thought you were working on something very important and not funny at all? Is there truly progress? How much Thai food is too much Thai food? When is David going to be David again and not a creepy dwarf?
Could you ever read a book that consisted of nothing but questions?
April 14, 2016
I won't pose a question about this book in imitation of its primary gimmick. Suffice it to say you'll be tempted to. I will, however, laude Powell's endeavor. Composed entirely of questions, this book eschews straight-forward narrative and reads more like a clever list from McSweeney's than a traditional novel. But, novel it is. There's a protagonist (albeit a highly ephemeral one) and conflict abounds. However, Powell's true accomplishment lies not in pursuit of answers but in the questions themselves and their unique ability to completely eradicate narrative distance. You, the reader (any reader, in fact), are the subject of this book. The questions, at times loosely organized around broad themes at others absurd and random, force you into the text and whether you choose to answer them or not your choice - the continuing process of making that choice - comprises the overall narrative. It is unavoidable and it is wildly entertaining. The book has radicalized my opinion of what is possible through POV.
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
If you liked this, make sure to follow me on Goodreads for more reviews!
November 15, 2010
This is by far one of the worst things I have ever read. I do want to put in a caveat, Powell actually says these were not intended to be a novel, that was added to sell the book. The problem still being as Hitchens tells us, you have to write a book to back up your title. So we are forced to evaluate it as a novel not a a piece of active critical theory (in which context with would still be crap just a different kind of crap).
Also, I am at the moment slightly drunk so I apologize in advance for any of those types of issues.
Unlike most of the people I know, I actually think a novel written is questions is a good idea and could be done well. However, I question whether anything written in the second person could ever be done well. Chris Baty in his books goes over the perspectives:
"And yes, there is something called second person-point of view. It looks like this: 'You sense that the author has begun using an odd, second person narration style. It feels unnatural and awkward, and it reminds you of those Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novels you read in fourth grade.'
You are not allowed to use second-person perspective in your novel next month. Not even ironically. Sorry. Rules and rules.
Do you know why rules are rules? Because almost no one can make anyone have any interest in something written in this perspective, Powell is not an exception. I tried to write something in second person when I was maybe 9, but at least I grew out of it.
Now this was a very highly acclaimed book. It is in fact still getting very good press I noticed that the paperback was out because I was reading the guardian book reviews and I came across a review of this. That was frustrating but I believe positive, it's hard to tell since the review was also entirely in questions. So it seems reasonable to assume that level of acclaim comes along with something that is at least representative of something enjoyable. I need to stop assuming this.
I enjoy transgressive things, I enjoy generally non-normal things. I mean I read guillotine because it was a funny shape. So it was reasonable at some time I would end up reading this. I mean a novel of questions, it is a very interesting gimmick. And it is certainly not the strangest gimmick I have ever come across and thought cool.
Okay so years ago now in an essay I came across a very interesting idea (The essay was either Borges or Eco I don't remember anymore). The general premise was a society in which the language contained no nouns. I don't remember how detailed they were about the replacement system they had made up but I found the fictional premise a great thought experiment. So I tried it (the beginning from my blog in 2007):
Of all [past unavailable easy] learned that [monumental momentary timely], perhaps the most powerful [extravagant different strange] was that [unhappy obsessive overwhelmed] had not related to [ugly young beloved], but instead to all the private [wordy overdone unreal] [uncaring unmoving loving] had attached to [objective unlifelike godly]--[important definitional timeless] that had nothing at [complete entire absolute] to do with [crazy feminine warm].
So I don't believe this is something I wrote, I think it is a paragraph that I took out of something else, but I don't know what. basically as you can see I tried to replace every noun with three adjectives specifically without losing the integrity of the paragraph, things that constitute nouns are marked and the sentences hypothetically string together. Given I am not a genius and I definitely wasn't smarter three years ago, but I did understand a couple of fundamental things Powell doesn't. You have to make a reader want to read something, and you have to make them feel like those things that they have already read are not amounting to nothing. I mean why read on if nothing is actually connected.
Now I can see you say, what you wrote up there didn't make any sense (this is true) so maybe the problem is that powell picked a bad mode and there was no way for there to be any actual relations in the book. Well off the top of my head:
What time does Caris wake up? Does he feed the baby before or after he feeds himself? Does he then cut himself shaving? If he does will he dab it with a paper towel or toilet paper? Will he forget to brush off the toilet paper before he leaves?
See how that creates a coherent narrative with most of the positives of the question asking mode, but is still something that might be more enjoyable to read. Or if you insist on the terrible learn about the reader mode:
What time do you wake up in the morning? Do you rush because you are going to be late for work? Does he bus seem crowded to you? Do you catch my eye before you get off or are you too busy reading your book?
See look there see how I did that, totally more interesting. For the love of god if the questions must be ridiculous and unrelated at least organize them. I'm not an idiot I know you asked the same questions 3-5 times, and I don't care. also paragraphs imply relationships between thoughts, you need a fuck of a lot more paragraph breaks.
On that note I'm sleepy and I think in my inebriated state I have proven that this book could and should have been much better.
oh P.s I think this book plays to the egotistical american I want to talk about myself bull shit, I mean what is better than answering questions about yourself for 160 pages. I have secret guys, he doesn't actually care about your answers.
Also, I am at the moment slightly drunk so I apologize in advance for any of those types of issues.
Unlike most of the people I know, I actually think a novel written is questions is a good idea and could be done well. However, I question whether anything written in the second person could ever be done well. Chris Baty in his books goes over the perspectives:
"And yes, there is something called second person-point of view. It looks like this: 'You sense that the author has begun using an odd, second person narration style. It feels unnatural and awkward, and it reminds you of those Choose-Your-Own-Adventure novels you read in fourth grade.'
You are not allowed to use second-person perspective in your novel next month. Not even ironically. Sorry. Rules and rules.
Do you know why rules are rules? Because almost no one can make anyone have any interest in something written in this perspective, Powell is not an exception. I tried to write something in second person when I was maybe 9, but at least I grew out of it.
Now this was a very highly acclaimed book. It is in fact still getting very good press I noticed that the paperback was out because I was reading the guardian book reviews and I came across a review of this. That was frustrating but I believe positive, it's hard to tell since the review was also entirely in questions. So it seems reasonable to assume that level of acclaim comes along with something that is at least representative of something enjoyable. I need to stop assuming this.
I enjoy transgressive things, I enjoy generally non-normal things. I mean I read guillotine because it was a funny shape. So it was reasonable at some time I would end up reading this. I mean a novel of questions, it is a very interesting gimmick. And it is certainly not the strangest gimmick I have ever come across and thought cool.
Okay so years ago now in an essay I came across a very interesting idea (The essay was either Borges or Eco I don't remember anymore). The general premise was a society in which the language contained no nouns. I don't remember how detailed they were about the replacement system they had made up but I found the fictional premise a great thought experiment. So I tried it (the beginning from my blog in 2007):
Of all [past unavailable easy] learned that [monumental momentary timely], perhaps the most powerful [extravagant different strange] was that [unhappy obsessive overwhelmed] had not related to [ugly young beloved], but instead to all the private [wordy overdone unreal] [uncaring unmoving loving] had attached to [objective unlifelike godly]--[important definitional timeless] that had nothing at [complete entire absolute] to do with [crazy feminine warm].
So I don't believe this is something I wrote, I think it is a paragraph that I took out of something else, but I don't know what. basically as you can see I tried to replace every noun with three adjectives specifically without losing the integrity of the paragraph, things that constitute nouns are marked and the sentences hypothetically string together. Given I am not a genius and I definitely wasn't smarter three years ago, but I did understand a couple of fundamental things Powell doesn't. You have to make a reader want to read something, and you have to make them feel like those things that they have already read are not amounting to nothing. I mean why read on if nothing is actually connected.
Now I can see you say, what you wrote up there didn't make any sense (this is true) so maybe the problem is that powell picked a bad mode and there was no way for there to be any actual relations in the book. Well off the top of my head:
What time does Caris wake up? Does he feed the baby before or after he feeds himself? Does he then cut himself shaving? If he does will he dab it with a paper towel or toilet paper? Will he forget to brush off the toilet paper before he leaves?
See how that creates a coherent narrative with most of the positives of the question asking mode, but is still something that might be more enjoyable to read. Or if you insist on the terrible learn about the reader mode:
What time do you wake up in the morning? Do you rush because you are going to be late for work? Does he bus seem crowded to you? Do you catch my eye before you get off or are you too busy reading your book?
See look there see how I did that, totally more interesting. For the love of god if the questions must be ridiculous and unrelated at least organize them. I'm not an idiot I know you asked the same questions 3-5 times, and I don't care. also paragraphs imply relationships between thoughts, you need a fuck of a lot more paragraph breaks.
On that note I'm sleepy and I think in my inebriated state I have proven that this book could and should have been much better.
oh P.s I think this book plays to the egotistical american I want to talk about myself bull shit, I mean what is better than answering questions about yourself for 160 pages. I have secret guys, he doesn't actually care about your answers.
i-want-money
October 19, 2013How are you feeling today?:: pissed off? angry? offended? shorted? irritated? run-over? step’d upon? used up? numb? it’ll pass? hopeful? cheery? never been better? truckin? chuff? like a dandelion meadow? analyze’d? sleepy? time to read? filthy? gotta be something better? where’s a couch when I need one? breathe? what time is it? when will this begin if it won’t start? when I was a kid....? please stop asking? allegiant? won’t take it no more? what does it all mean? like a sisyphus? like a griffon? multi-headed? single minded? what is the being of number? footnoted? on the last page? can’t wait? spied upon? wire-tapped? who is Gilbert Sorrentino? burning inside? like hell? what words can’t I say? fucked? verb’d and noun’d? just hanging around? hang in there? peachy? perfect as a pear? if it’s good enough for gass? deutsch’d? why does it hurt when I pee? was it better before? will there come a day? dandy? spiffy? super? what time is supper served? fasting? all eaten up and bug’d out? sexy? monstrous? dignified? over-easy or sunny side up? which side of the street? hello from the gutter? thirsty? hungry? eager? relaxed and totally chill? lame? cooler than your mother? not feeling like showing up? over-worked? under-slept? snoozing? lemonade please? why not? who is it? how much can I take? a five-year old girl? blue? green in the gills? plastered? a bit hung-over but I’ll make it? decrepit? exhausted? maybe exhausting? replenished? too many words? thoughtful? desirous? drain’d? clog’d? dancing til the moon melts? apple pie or apple sauce? aroused? ticking and clicking? randy? who? if I didn’t know any better? I’m not asking? like about between five and six? train’d and plane’d? ‘sphyxiated? so what? where? glad to meet me? skeletal? phoning it in? deja vu? you? catty? dog-tired? lazy? sunny? been moon’d lately? book ‘im danny? invisible? good? well? fine? fuck’d? musical? literary? arty? fart much? when i was your age? things won’t change? changes have thing’d? can’t keep it straight? queer’d? burrough’d? what? review’d? decimated? exterminated? irradiated? conciliated? undernourished? famished? ravenous? where’s the power when you need it? just get over it? demolished? unified? diversified? objectified? a little thoughtless now and then? careless? sensitive? ratty? a bit snake-like? mythological? legendary? customary? rudimentary? elementary? sophomoric? fresh? well aged like a cheese? motorhead? cracked? scorned? resented? estimated? eliminated? emaciated? a little radical? conservative much? breaking down and breaking apart? buried in concrete? ready to fight? time for love? twenty three sheets to the wind? all wound up? exasperated? enveloped? where the deer and the antelope roam? busch’d? frank? like a snow shoe, whap! up side the head of my favorite baby seal? canadian or mexican? native? impoverished? reserved? my head hurts? if I remember incorrectly? please? welcome? like a refugee? pictured and recorded? hunted down? stag’d? renewed and emancipated? liberated? enmeshed? a night in birmingham? a flame hotter than hell? rising up? if it weren’t for the? trying again? bum-rush’d? ostracized? I’ll do my gods-damn’dest.
October 25, 2011
Strictly, speaking, this isn’t a ‘proper’ book. As everybody by now knows. Or, rather it is to literature what Jackson Pollock is to art: inane, insane – in the main; and non germaine, but hey: I won’t complain.
167 pages of questions. Such as, ‘if you were fighting in a spice war, which spice would you fight for?’
First reaction: Spices? Spice? What the fuck? Do I not eat my chicken tikka massala (which has them all), without a murmur? Now I have to deconstruct it? What happens when I isolate MSG? Do I renounce the British national dish: The Curry? Intolerable, old chap.
Second reaction: Hmm, just how many spices can I actually name? Individually? Is Bouquet Garnier a spice in itself, or a compound? Can I fight for a compound? (minus the bay leaves?).
Third reaction: I must know what bay leaves are, as my subconscious churned them up. Hell and high water, what exactly are they? One mustn’t be too blasé here: theres mace and liquorice powder which aren’t mace and liquorice, if you know what I mean. So, no taking things for granted.
Fourth reaction: Am now running to check my spice cupboard...well, will wonders never cease: I haven’t got a spice cupboard. I do, however, have sea salt lodged between the canned tuna and the packet of jelly babies. Well, I could, in fact, I suppose, put up a fight over the jelly babies: and they are sweet, so I could then, fight for sugar. Doublechecking.....No, sigh, sugar is NOT a spice.
Final, fifth reaction: I have now spent practically all day examining my inner Spice, and am no where near a coherent answer. I shall have to take these questions one day at a time. And enjoy every minute of it........
167 pages of questions. Such as, ‘if you were fighting in a spice war, which spice would you fight for?’
First reaction: Spices? Spice? What the fuck? Do I not eat my chicken tikka massala (which has them all), without a murmur? Now I have to deconstruct it? What happens when I isolate MSG? Do I renounce the British national dish: The Curry? Intolerable, old chap.
Second reaction: Hmm, just how many spices can I actually name? Individually? Is Bouquet Garnier a spice in itself, or a compound? Can I fight for a compound? (minus the bay leaves?).
Third reaction: I must know what bay leaves are, as my subconscious churned them up. Hell and high water, what exactly are they? One mustn’t be too blasé here: theres mace and liquorice powder which aren’t mace and liquorice, if you know what I mean. So, no taking things for granted.
Fourth reaction: Am now running to check my spice cupboard...well, will wonders never cease: I haven’t got a spice cupboard. I do, however, have sea salt lodged between the canned tuna and the packet of jelly babies. Well, I could, in fact, I suppose, put up a fight over the jelly babies: and they are sweet, so I could then, fight for sugar. Doublechecking.....No, sigh, sugar is NOT a spice.
Final, fifth reaction: I have now spent practically all day examining my inner Spice, and am no where near a coherent answer. I shall have to take these questions one day at a time. And enjoy every minute of it........
January 24, 2012
Deriding this book for being gimmick is a facile response. It's a novel (in the loosest sense of the word) written entirely in questions, calling it a gimmick is a little beside the point. Of course it's a "gimmick", in one sense: discussions of its form dominant the majority of the reviews about it. But what matters to me, and what I think is more interesting, is discussing whether the books conducts itself well, and whether or not the inescapable fact of its peculiar style overrides the pleasure you get from the experience of reading. And I adored this book. It was simultaneously relaxing and stimulating, a way to unwind after a long day or a method of pepping myself up in the morning. A packet of M&Ms that I couldn't help dipping into. A guide to my own memories and the world around me.
This book is for people who enjoy sentences as an art form. Each question is finely-wrought, at turns descriptive, bizarre, erotic, poignant, banal. Non sequitur piles upon non sequitur in a way that I find hilarious. Standalone sentences that make you blush in recognition.
Lorrie Moore wrote a short story collection entirely in the second person, and on that particular occasion I didn't find that stylistic choice gimmicky, or annoying, or as a way to distract from a lack of talent in other facets of the writing. Same holds for The Interrogative Mood. Don't you think?
This book is for people who enjoy sentences as an art form. Each question is finely-wrought, at turns descriptive, bizarre, erotic, poignant, banal. Non sequitur piles upon non sequitur in a way that I find hilarious. Standalone sentences that make you blush in recognition.
Lorrie Moore wrote a short story collection entirely in the second person, and on that particular occasion I didn't find that stylistic choice gimmicky, or annoying, or as a way to distract from a lack of talent in other facets of the writing. Same holds for The Interrogative Mood. Don't you think?
June 17, 2013
Like David Markson’s wonderful late fictions, Powell takes you on a similar reckless adventure in pure thought and language. Just questions after questions but every page and every line is remarkable; it is wickedly funny and deeply effecting in ways many more structure bound fictions are rarely. Powell along with Markson takes the spirit from Beckett and Barthelme and crafts darkly funny, evocative fictions, crafted in impeccable language that without even a hint of plot keep you turning pages drunk on the language alone. This is Literature without an ounce of fat, perfect in most of the ways that you want it to be, just an enigmatic text that forces you to contend with it but so funny and entertaining that pretentious thoughts as I have just voiced never comes to mind.
March 11, 2013
This book is made up entirely of questions. This could have been interesting. It wasn't.
"When did you last have a piece of Melba toast?"
Author, you are wasting my time.
"Could Mendeleyev place you correctly in a square on a chart of periodic identities, or would you resonate all over the board?"
Now if you don't think about it for even a micro-second, this has the air of being deep. And if you recognize Mendeleyev you might feel a flutter of self-congratulation. (Hey, I got that reference!) But if you actually think about this question... well, you soon discover that there is nothing there.
It´s a shiny, empty box.
The book alternates between these two types of questions (mundane and pseudo-deep) until you loose the will to live. Or you stop reading. I recommend the latter. And somehow the fact that these empty little baubles are in the form of questions really irks me. It´s an insult to the readers´ intelligence. Why would I waste my time and energy on what is essentially fluff? A question mark does not create instant philosophical depth and the sheer number of questions included here does not create substance.
In a way it´s a perfect product of the consumer age. Inauthentic, content-free -- basically the equivalent of mental junk food. And it doesn´t even taste good.
[I don´t usually do scathing reviews, but I hate to think of anyone else wasting their time and money on this hollow rubbish.]
"When did you last have a piece of Melba toast?"
Author, you are wasting my time.
"Could Mendeleyev place you correctly in a square on a chart of periodic identities, or would you resonate all over the board?"
Now if you don't think about it for even a micro-second, this has the air of being deep. And if you recognize Mendeleyev you might feel a flutter of self-congratulation. (Hey, I got that reference!) But if you actually think about this question... well, you soon discover that there is nothing there.
It´s a shiny, empty box.
The book alternates between these two types of questions (mundane and pseudo-deep) until you loose the will to live. Or you stop reading. I recommend the latter. And somehow the fact that these empty little baubles are in the form of questions really irks me. It´s an insult to the readers´ intelligence. Why would I waste my time and energy on what is essentially fluff? A question mark does not create instant philosophical depth and the sheer number of questions included here does not create substance.
In a way it´s a perfect product of the consumer age. Inauthentic, content-free -- basically the equivalent of mental junk food. And it doesn´t even taste good.
[I don´t usually do scathing reviews, but I hate to think of anyone else wasting their time and money on this hollow rubbish.]
July 18, 2010
This is a book entirely of questions, which seems like it would get old quickly, but it didn't at all. It made me think about random things, laugh out loud, and remember things I haven't thought about in years. Like Katie said, there were so many questions that I was so excited to answer. "Yes, I have used the word extrapolate in a non mathematical way!" "Yes, I would be comfortable taking a bus in a country where I didn't know the language!" "Yes, I do remember those children's beads that popped apart and were held together by means of stems and balls and sockets of the same material the beads were made of!" So many random things.
I do wonder how the author wrote this book and would like to be inside of his head to see if he is as random and quirky as this book made him seem. A very entertaining read that I would recommend for your next long road trip.
I do wonder how the author wrote this book and would like to be inside of his head to see if he is as random and quirky as this book made him seem. A very entertaining read that I would recommend for your next long road trip.
August 11, 2019
In some recent interview from I know not where, Chuck Klosterman describes this book as important, or as a must-read, or as fundamentally altering how he sees writing. I’m not sure to what excess he loved the book and I can’t be bothered to go back and check, but let’s agree he does really love it. He said something like that.
Now I love it too. The book’s cover is pimpled with blurbs about how this is bebop writing or like if Duchamp wrote a novel, to which I cry, “Over-exaggerated hogwash!” No, this book is fantastic, but it is really just Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts as written by a a University of Florida MFA professor.
It’s great!
Expect no story, no narrative arc, no real characters, but do stop by to enjoy a sort of conversation with yourself. At times the barrage of questions will seem unnatural and oppressive, but more often it will fill you with the joy of remembrance and the thrill of discovery. I love this book and recommend it whole-heartedly.
5/5
Now I love it too. The book’s cover is pimpled with blurbs about how this is bebop writing or like if Duchamp wrote a novel, to which I cry, “Over-exaggerated hogwash!” No, this book is fantastic, but it is really just Jack Handey’s Deep Thoughts as written by a a University of Florida MFA professor.
It’s great!
Expect no story, no narrative arc, no real characters, but do stop by to enjoy a sort of conversation with yourself. At times the barrage of questions will seem unnatural and oppressive, but more often it will fill you with the joy of remembrance and the thrill of discovery. I love this book and recommend it whole-heartedly.
5/5
April 2, 2013
I'm really not trying to be crude, but I've had this book on a shelf in my bathroom for about a year now and it's brought me so much entertainment.
I've read other reviews which claim this is the worst "novel" they've ever read. I wouldn't call it a novel (and I think someone who dismisses it based on the obvious fact that it doesn't resemble a novel, all it does is ask questions, blah, blah, is trying to be a grump). It's more aphoristic...a quilt with character, a clever way to promote introspection in a peachy keen/no sweating it kind of way.
Bottom line: Padgett Powell is a mastermind armed with an arsenal of quirk. If only I could ask questions so interesting. Chances are after reading this I might.
I've read other reviews which claim this is the worst "novel" they've ever read. I wouldn't call it a novel (and I think someone who dismisses it based on the obvious fact that it doesn't resemble a novel, all it does is ask questions, blah, blah, is trying to be a grump). It's more aphoristic...a quilt with character, a clever way to promote introspection in a peachy keen/no sweating it kind of way.
Bottom line: Padgett Powell is a mastermind armed with an arsenal of quirk. If only I could ask questions so interesting. Chances are after reading this I might.
February 12, 2015
Was it wrong of me to expect more from a 160-page book of only questions? Did I waste my time? Is it nothing more than a glorified version of that "drinking game" we all played in college or the sketch from Whose Line Is It Anyway? Have you ever watched old Whose Line Is It Anyway episodes? Do you know what you're missing? Am I happy or sad to read my first novelty book I didn't like? Should I stop now before writing in this voice drives me crazy? Do you like goat cheese?
September 29, 2024
A phenomenological delight. My husband and I dipped in and out of this book over several weeks, reading it to each other and stopping to discuss some of the questions.
October 27, 2014
Certainly one of the strangest books I have read in a long time. It's full title is The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?; but as to this first (of oh so many questions), I have to say no, this is not a novel. There is no fiction here, no plot, no characters. What there is is a (seemingly) endless and (largely) random list of questions, and nothing but questions, some deep, some funny and some just "huh?" But taken together, they constitute the world's funniest, most disturbing and overall strangest personality test ever.
Is Santa Claus essentially a pedophile? Do buzzards give you the creeps? Have you ever been lain on by a heavy naked person in a boat as it raced by another boat full of heavy naked people? Do you know a gecko from a skink? Can you envision saying seriously to someone, "You just holler for help, and I'll come arunnin'"? Can you lob a hand grenade accurately? Would you eat a monkey? Do you view extreme sports as legitimate enterprises or are they just imprudent fucking around until you get hurt? Are you going to Funkytown? Would you stand a better chance of hitting a long-legged bird with a bolo or a boomerang? Would you have anticipated that Jack LaLanne would outlive Buddy Ebsen? Have you ever seen an owl so large you mistook it for a man in a sport coat sitting in a tree? If you are walking along and see a really good stick, can you pass it up? Do wheels have fun?
There are also a number of questions which seem to reflect a disturbing amount of information about me personally: Have you ever built or operated a trebuchet? Do you like hanging file folders? Have you ever seen an elephant receive foot maintenance? Did you ever or do you now own a set of French curves? And there is a separate set of questions for which I take a strange sense of satisfaction in being able to answer affirmatively: Do you know the difference between rimfire and centrefire ammunition? Have you ever had cockles? Does the noise a bullwhip makes involve breaking the sound barrier?
And finally, there were a whole lot of questions I couldn't answer, but felt I should be able to: Do you know what "palisades" means exactly? Do you know the location of Albemarle Sound? Do you know what an articulated joint is as disctinct from an unarticulated joint? Does the term "bogolusian" mean anything to you? Do you know what is signified by "boonlay"? Do you know how gyroscopes function aeronautically?
Anyway - fascinating, bizarre, frustrating and yet oddly captivating; I'm not sure what I learned from this book, either about Powell or myself - but I do know I generally enjoyed the ride, and would probably recommend this book to a select group of my weirdest friends.
P.S. - And as for the question: Have you heard that water buffalo are more dangerous that tigers and lions and elephant?; well, no, I haven't heard that - but I do know that it's Cape buffalo and not water buffalo which are dangerous - water buffalo are real kitty cats.
Is Santa Claus essentially a pedophile? Do buzzards give you the creeps? Have you ever been lain on by a heavy naked person in a boat as it raced by another boat full of heavy naked people? Do you know a gecko from a skink? Can you envision saying seriously to someone, "You just holler for help, and I'll come arunnin'"? Can you lob a hand grenade accurately? Would you eat a monkey? Do you view extreme sports as legitimate enterprises or are they just imprudent fucking around until you get hurt? Are you going to Funkytown? Would you stand a better chance of hitting a long-legged bird with a bolo or a boomerang? Would you have anticipated that Jack LaLanne would outlive Buddy Ebsen? Have you ever seen an owl so large you mistook it for a man in a sport coat sitting in a tree? If you are walking along and see a really good stick, can you pass it up? Do wheels have fun?
There are also a number of questions which seem to reflect a disturbing amount of information about me personally: Have you ever built or operated a trebuchet? Do you like hanging file folders? Have you ever seen an elephant receive foot maintenance? Did you ever or do you now own a set of French curves? And there is a separate set of questions for which I take a strange sense of satisfaction in being able to answer affirmatively: Do you know the difference between rimfire and centrefire ammunition? Have you ever had cockles? Does the noise a bullwhip makes involve breaking the sound barrier?
And finally, there were a whole lot of questions I couldn't answer, but felt I should be able to: Do you know what "palisades" means exactly? Do you know the location of Albemarle Sound? Do you know what an articulated joint is as disctinct from an unarticulated joint? Does the term "bogolusian" mean anything to you? Do you know what is signified by "boonlay"? Do you know how gyroscopes function aeronautically?
Anyway - fascinating, bizarre, frustrating and yet oddly captivating; I'm not sure what I learned from this book, either about Powell or myself - but I do know I generally enjoyed the ride, and would probably recommend this book to a select group of my weirdest friends.
P.S. - And as for the question: Have you heard that water buffalo are more dangerous that tigers and lions and elephant?; well, no, I haven't heard that - but I do know that it's Cape buffalo and not water buffalo which are dangerous - water buffalo are real kitty cats.
September 8, 2012
Ok, this was probalby the weirdest thing I've ever "read". 166 pages of questions. Nothing but questions. Every sentence is posed as a question. Some having to do with the last sentence or question posed but the majority do not.
Seems like it would get old quickly, right? And I will be honest, I could only handle this in approx. 5 page spurts. I just kept falling asleep on it or losing focus. Other times, it was light and airy to just read questions, questions and more questions. I have highlighted far too many for only a 3 star rating but they were questions I would want to pose to others. But, let me tell you, this is not a book where you could sit around and have others "participate" with you. This is not a read-aloud party games type book of questions. But strangely, I did want to answer them out loud. Sometimes, it made me feel like I was studying for a test and someone was going to sit me down at the end and ask me hundreds of random questions. "Yes, I have used the word extrapolate in a non mathematical way!" "Yes, I would be comfortable taking a bus in a country where I didn't know the language!" "Yes, I do remember those children's beads that popped apart and were held together by means of stems and balls and sockets of the same material the beads were made of!" So many random things. Definitely a quirky read, for sure.
Seems like it would get old quickly, right? And I will be honest, I could only handle this in approx. 5 page spurts. I just kept falling asleep on it or losing focus. Other times, it was light and airy to just read questions, questions and more questions. I have highlighted far too many for only a 3 star rating but they were questions I would want to pose to others. But, let me tell you, this is not a book where you could sit around and have others "participate" with you. This is not a read-aloud party games type book of questions. But strangely, I did want to answer them out loud. Sometimes, it made me feel like I was studying for a test and someone was going to sit me down at the end and ask me hundreds of random questions. "Yes, I have used the word extrapolate in a non mathematical way!" "Yes, I would be comfortable taking a bus in a country where I didn't know the language!" "Yes, I do remember those children's beads that popped apart and were held together by means of stems and balls and sockets of the same material the beads were made of!" So many random things. Definitely a quirky read, for sure.
February 5, 2023
A book full of questions: bizarre; ordinary, ordinary yet thought provoking n some randomly ceaselessly placed serious existential questions here n there.... overall a book worth reading :)
#MyFavrouriteQs
"If your mind were in the gutter, would you pick it up or leave it there?....Is all of life clueless, or is most of it clueless with momentary bursts of clueness, or is it a spectrum of cluelessness to clueness on which people reside at various points, and are the points at which people reside on the spectrum of cluelessness fixed or variable?....Is there in your opinion life after death? Is there death then before life? Wouldn’t it be possible to get life and death mixed up and not be exactly clear what is what and when when?.....does it ever occur to you that the good things in life have all been done already and all that is left is crappy new things or theatrical reenactments of the good old things?.......Under what circumstances would you kill yourself, and what means might you use?......Do you know why it is that freedom is not free? Would it be correspondingly true, if freedom is not free, that captivity is not captive?.....Do you think that an animal that appears to mourn its dead, such as elephants, is capable of imagining its own death?
Does fighting to
preserve oneself intimate an imagining of one’s death?
Are you leaving now? Would you? Would you mind?"
#MyFavrouriteQs
"If your mind were in the gutter, would you pick it up or leave it there?....Is all of life clueless, or is most of it clueless with momentary bursts of clueness, or is it a spectrum of cluelessness to clueness on which people reside at various points, and are the points at which people reside on the spectrum of cluelessness fixed or variable?....Is there in your opinion life after death? Is there death then before life? Wouldn’t it be possible to get life and death mixed up and not be exactly clear what is what and when when?.....does it ever occur to you that the good things in life have all been done already and all that is left is crappy new things or theatrical reenactments of the good old things?.......Under what circumstances would you kill yourself, and what means might you use?......Do you know why it is that freedom is not free? Would it be correspondingly true, if freedom is not free, that captivity is not captive?.....Do you think that an animal that appears to mourn its dead, such as elephants, is capable of imagining its own death?
Does fighting to
preserve oneself intimate an imagining of one’s death?
Are you leaving now? Would you? Would you mind?"
May 28, 2019
Back when I was a much younger man and fresh off the plane here in Japan, a good friend of mine and I would often commiserate, over more than a few beers, about our lives on these shores.
Knowing my friend as I did, I knew that the conversation would eventually devolve into a drunken litany of interrogative “Would you rather~~?” questions. “Would you rather be a time traveling brick or have an endless tongue?”. “Would you rather be locked in a room with 20 angry chicken sized horses or 1 angry horse sized chicken?”. And on it would go.
This book is like my friendship with him. Writ large.
It is not in the traditional sense a novel in that there is no real narrative structure, beginning or ending. And yet at the same time it is very much a novel in that there is our narrator (Padgett) who in the course of relentlessly lobbing seemingly unrelated questions at you, reveals a lot about himself (he is extremely interested in bluejays, old roller skates, pine needles, and model trains). By the time you reach the final page, you realize that the main character is in fact yourself, and the “story” being told is your own through a series of questions that range from the nonsensical (If you were to participate in a spice war, what spice would you fight for?), to the intensely personal(Under what circumstances would you kill yourself, and what means might you use?).
Is this book “gimmicky”, as I’ve seen it criticized for being? In the sense that it is quite unlike what we are accustomed to expect to a novel, yes I suppose it is. Yet, can any book that makes you think about who you are and how you got here really be described as a gimmick? Even if it was, would it matter?
In recognition of the non traditional approach this book takes, I want to close my review by answering 10 questions (among hundreds to choose from) posed by the author. If the mood strikes you, would you also like to answer them? Does this sound enjoyable?
1) If you had the chance, and there weren’t the certain prospect of time in court or jail in these our litigious times, wouldn’t you like to participate in a rumble?
-Perhaps.
2) Is there a name to complete this progression: Rasputin, Robespierre, Robbe-Grillet, Robert Goulet, and…..?
-Roberto Bolano?
3) Will you readily neuter an animal? Do you find teachers of math dangerously seductive? Does a package wrapped in red ribbon bode better than one in blue? Will you wear polyester? Is it time I go? Are we done here? Have you had as good a time as I?
-Never. No. Definitely. I have and will. I hope not. Not yet. Absolutely.
4) If it might be fairly said that you have hopes and fears, would you say you have more hopes than fears, or more fears than hopes?
-At times more fears than hope but rarely feel like all hope is lost.
5) Do you view extreme sports as legitimate enterprises or are they just imprudent fucking around until you get hurt? Can the same question not be asked of sexual consort?
-Imprudent fucking around until you get hurt. There have been times…..
6) If I said to you, ‘I want to return to 1940 and have a big coupe with big running boards and drive it drunkenly and carefully along dirt roads never causing harm except for frightening chickens out of the road, and I want you standing out there on the running board saying Slow down, or Let me in, and laughing, but I don’t stop, because of course you don’t mean it, you think as I do that a big 1940s coupe and careful drunken driving and one party outside the car and one inside and both laughing and chickens spraying unhurt into the ditches is what life was then, is what life was before it became ruined by us and all our crap’, and if I said to you, ‘I have an actual goddamned time machine, I am not kidding, we can get in the coupe inside thirty seconds if we take off our clothes and push the red button underneath that computer over there, come on, strip, get ready’, would you get ready to go with me, and go? Would you ask a lot of questions? Or would you just say, ‘Shut up and push the button’?
-Yes, when do we leave? No. Push the button.
7) Wasn’t the world better when the term ‘haberdasher’ was current? For that matter, when butter churns were in use? How did we go so wrong? Wasn’t there a day on earth when not every soul was possessed of his or her own petty political and personal-identity agenda? Do you still do candles for your birthday?
-Without a doubt. Not sure about that. I often ask myself the same thing. Was there? I wish.
8) Is there enough time left? Does it matter that I do not specify for what? Was there ever enough time? Was there once too much? Does the notion of ‘enough time’ actually make any sense? Does it suggest we had things to do and could not do them for reasons other than that we were incompetents? Did we have things to do? Things better done than not? Thus, important things? Are there important things? Are we as a species rolling together the great dungball of the importantly done into itself and making thereby a better world for the dungball rollers to follow us?
-Yes. Yes. No. Never. Not to me. Almost certainly. We like to think so. Perhaps. To us perhaps. Undoubtedly.
9) If you learned that you were vying within a love triangle with a Navy SEAL, would you be concerned? Could you be depended upon, in a love triangle with a SEAL, to down a goodly quaff of schnapps and say, ‘He might outkill me but he shan’t outlove me!’?
-Yes. Almost certainly yes, and why do you assume that I haven’t already?
10) Have you seen a person recently so delicious-looking that, were you and this person to be scrambling for ice-cream change with your arms in the sofa and your faces laid on the cushions looking at each other as you felt for coins and the ice-cream truck dinged on by and your hands in there felt only the lint of the sofa scrofula and your faces were fairly close across a distance of that knobby nylon terrain, you might feel compelled to slide your face toward this delicious-looking person’s and kiss him or her. Have you seen anyone like this recently?
-If I say yes, do I have to say who?
Knowing my friend as I did, I knew that the conversation would eventually devolve into a drunken litany of interrogative “Would you rather~~?” questions. “Would you rather be a time traveling brick or have an endless tongue?”. “Would you rather be locked in a room with 20 angry chicken sized horses or 1 angry horse sized chicken?”. And on it would go.
This book is like my friendship with him. Writ large.
It is not in the traditional sense a novel in that there is no real narrative structure, beginning or ending. And yet at the same time it is very much a novel in that there is our narrator (Padgett) who in the course of relentlessly lobbing seemingly unrelated questions at you, reveals a lot about himself (he is extremely interested in bluejays, old roller skates, pine needles, and model trains). By the time you reach the final page, you realize that the main character is in fact yourself, and the “story” being told is your own through a series of questions that range from the nonsensical (If you were to participate in a spice war, what spice would you fight for?), to the intensely personal(Under what circumstances would you kill yourself, and what means might you use?).
Is this book “gimmicky”, as I’ve seen it criticized for being? In the sense that it is quite unlike what we are accustomed to expect to a novel, yes I suppose it is. Yet, can any book that makes you think about who you are and how you got here really be described as a gimmick? Even if it was, would it matter?
In recognition of the non traditional approach this book takes, I want to close my review by answering 10 questions (among hundreds to choose from) posed by the author. If the mood strikes you, would you also like to answer them? Does this sound enjoyable?
1) If you had the chance, and there weren’t the certain prospect of time in court or jail in these our litigious times, wouldn’t you like to participate in a rumble?
-Perhaps.
2) Is there a name to complete this progression: Rasputin, Robespierre, Robbe-Grillet, Robert Goulet, and…..?
-Roberto Bolano?
3) Will you readily neuter an animal? Do you find teachers of math dangerously seductive? Does a package wrapped in red ribbon bode better than one in blue? Will you wear polyester? Is it time I go? Are we done here? Have you had as good a time as I?
-Never. No. Definitely. I have and will. I hope not. Not yet. Absolutely.
4) If it might be fairly said that you have hopes and fears, would you say you have more hopes than fears, or more fears than hopes?
-At times more fears than hope but rarely feel like all hope is lost.
5) Do you view extreme sports as legitimate enterprises or are they just imprudent fucking around until you get hurt? Can the same question not be asked of sexual consort?
-Imprudent fucking around until you get hurt. There have been times…..
6) If I said to you, ‘I want to return to 1940 and have a big coupe with big running boards and drive it drunkenly and carefully along dirt roads never causing harm except for frightening chickens out of the road, and I want you standing out there on the running board saying Slow down, or Let me in, and laughing, but I don’t stop, because of course you don’t mean it, you think as I do that a big 1940s coupe and careful drunken driving and one party outside the car and one inside and both laughing and chickens spraying unhurt into the ditches is what life was then, is what life was before it became ruined by us and all our crap’, and if I said to you, ‘I have an actual goddamned time machine, I am not kidding, we can get in the coupe inside thirty seconds if we take off our clothes and push the red button underneath that computer over there, come on, strip, get ready’, would you get ready to go with me, and go? Would you ask a lot of questions? Or would you just say, ‘Shut up and push the button’?
-Yes, when do we leave? No. Push the button.
7) Wasn’t the world better when the term ‘haberdasher’ was current? For that matter, when butter churns were in use? How did we go so wrong? Wasn’t there a day on earth when not every soul was possessed of his or her own petty political and personal-identity agenda? Do you still do candles for your birthday?
-Without a doubt. Not sure about that. I often ask myself the same thing. Was there? I wish.
8) Is there enough time left? Does it matter that I do not specify for what? Was there ever enough time? Was there once too much? Does the notion of ‘enough time’ actually make any sense? Does it suggest we had things to do and could not do them for reasons other than that we were incompetents? Did we have things to do? Things better done than not? Thus, important things? Are there important things? Are we as a species rolling together the great dungball of the importantly done into itself and making thereby a better world for the dungball rollers to follow us?
-Yes. Yes. No. Never. Not to me. Almost certainly. We like to think so. Perhaps. To us perhaps. Undoubtedly.
9) If you learned that you were vying within a love triangle with a Navy SEAL, would you be concerned? Could you be depended upon, in a love triangle with a SEAL, to down a goodly quaff of schnapps and say, ‘He might outkill me but he shan’t outlove me!’?
-Yes. Almost certainly yes, and why do you assume that I haven’t already?
10) Have you seen a person recently so delicious-looking that, were you and this person to be scrambling for ice-cream change with your arms in the sofa and your faces laid on the cushions looking at each other as you felt for coins and the ice-cream truck dinged on by and your hands in there felt only the lint of the sofa scrofula and your faces were fairly close across a distance of that knobby nylon terrain, you might feel compelled to slide your face toward this delicious-looking person’s and kiss him or her. Have you seen anyone like this recently?
-If I say yes, do I have to say who?
October 26, 2009
They say good writing asks more questions than it answers. This only asks questions, leaving readers to only connect (and laugh a lot). Sometimes it sounds like self-interrogation, other times like direct address to the reader, other times like a high-brow Seinfeld routine ("Did you ever notice . . .?"), other times like a really long questionnaire for a comphrehensive online profile re: everything you know and remember and never knew and forgot. The ideal stocking stuffer for the good-natured lit snob in your life. Definitely worth the sticker price.
February 13, 2010
Why doesn't GoodReads have a minus-star rating? Why did I think I was stubborn enough to read every question in this thing? Why didn't I just read pages 1 and 164 and be done w/ it? How did I make it as far as page 68? How can the author of Edisto inflict this failed postmodern trickery on the reader? How could he stand composing it?
March 12, 2010
Hated it.
Actually, all I could do was skim about random five pages before giving up. It's a grouping of questions, many of which seem fairly daft, arranged in paragraphs. Near as I could tell, the questions in each group don't have anything in common with each other.
It's hailed as a literary feat, but I'm obviously missing something....
Actually, all I could do was skim about random five pages before giving up. It's a grouping of questions, many of which seem fairly daft, arranged in paragraphs. Near as I could tell, the questions in each group don't have anything in common with each other.
It's hailed as a literary feat, but I'm obviously missing something....
March 18, 2013
So as: "A Novel?" this was an big fat NO. I read this book and all its questions and the only conclusion I can come to is that it might be a big fat resource for writers needing questionable inspiration. But as a novel? Get outta here!
Read
August 17, 2017Did a review of this book here: https://youtu.be/5zGNcPZR6KY
July 15, 2018
Fascinating and thought provoking
Powell wrote a novel of questions ranging from flippant to fanciful all the way to profound. Some were surreal and others very specific drawing the reader to examine his own life experiences and motives. Looking for a book to make you laugh and think? Here is an exercise in philosophy and searching your own memory for answers.
Powell wrote a novel of questions ranging from flippant to fanciful all the way to profound. Some were surreal and others very specific drawing the reader to examine his own life experiences and motives. Looking for a book to make you laugh and think? Here is an exercise in philosophy and searching your own memory for answers.
January 15, 2023
13- In your view, is a gesture of charity genuine or is it a kind of deep moral tax write-off?
24- If you learned that you would expire tomorrow at 5:00 P.M., what would you seek to do until then?
32- Do you think there is a constant percentage of people who are clinically insane, or is this a figure that changes over time according to immediate local conditions and according to larger historical forces?
74- Could you entertain the idea that what undoes couples over time is that they neglect to apply polish to the grain of their wood?
114- Would it require more energy than you have in order for you to really lose it or do you think really losing it can be a function of having too little energy to prevent losing it?
147- Would you rather play a board game with a child all day or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel?
And weird shit about squirrels!
24- If you learned that you would expire tomorrow at 5:00 P.M., what would you seek to do until then?
32- Do you think there is a constant percentage of people who are clinically insane, or is this a figure that changes over time according to immediate local conditions and according to larger historical forces?
74- Could you entertain the idea that what undoes couples over time is that they neglect to apply polish to the grain of their wood?
114- Would it require more energy than you have in order for you to really lose it or do you think really losing it can be a function of having too little energy to prevent losing it?
147- Would you rather play a board game with a child all day or go over Niagara Falls in a barrel?
And weird shit about squirrels!
December 5, 2009
There's plenty to say about the fact that this book is composed entirely of questions--how this mode possibly turns the focus of the narrative upon the reader, or how it reverses the hierarchy of reading so that the narrator (interviewer?) becomes the dynamic engager of text--but the real thrill of this book was nothing less than the constructions of the sentences themselves, the rich levels of rhythm and counterpoint that are found and rediscovered in a sentence mode that often seems to be used merely as the gateway towards information rather than a joy unto itself.
Powell, though, has a mastery and joy of language that I haven't seen since his mentor, Donald Barthelme. The depth of material, the wonderfully acoustic and left-field range of subjects, make what may sound at first like an interesting exercise (but not something akin to novel) a plain joy to read. Just listen to these variations and rhythm:
If you had a dog small enough to be transported in the pocket of your coat, what would you name it? Do you think in terms of salvation or redemption? Do you appreciate the color changes of leavews in the fall or is that spectacle a tad too popularly sentimental for you? Have you ever been catheterized? Is there a set number of rings you like a phone to ring before you pick up? Does the noise made by corduroy pants irritate you? Do you eat flan?
But Powell is not only a master of variation, but of repetition:
Would you say that you are pro peanut brittle, anti peanut brittle, or would you say "I do not have a dog in the peanut-brittle fight"?
Powell's interrogative sentences are worthy of reading aloud, of friggin' laughing aloud at, of waylaying unsuspecting strangers with. There's little more than I can offer here--read the damn book, already.
Powell, though, has a mastery and joy of language that I haven't seen since his mentor, Donald Barthelme. The depth of material, the wonderfully acoustic and left-field range of subjects, make what may sound at first like an interesting exercise (but not something akin to novel) a plain joy to read. Just listen to these variations and rhythm:
If you had a dog small enough to be transported in the pocket of your coat, what would you name it? Do you think in terms of salvation or redemption? Do you appreciate the color changes of leavews in the fall or is that spectacle a tad too popularly sentimental for you? Have you ever been catheterized? Is there a set number of rings you like a phone to ring before you pick up? Does the noise made by corduroy pants irritate you? Do you eat flan?
But Powell is not only a master of variation, but of repetition:
Would you say that you are pro peanut brittle, anti peanut brittle, or would you say "I do not have a dog in the peanut-brittle fight"?
Powell's interrogative sentences are worthy of reading aloud, of friggin' laughing aloud at, of waylaying unsuspecting strangers with. There's little more than I can offer here--read the damn book, already.
January 20, 2011
Thank you to my lovely sister Katie who gave me this book for Christmas. I remember hearing about it on NPR, thinking the premise was interesting (a book made entirely of questions), but wondering how it could carry out for a whole book. There's no narrative arc to be found and no real unifying theme that I could figure out, but it was fun and interesting nonetheless. Sometimes I would try to answer every question as I read it, but that became overwhelming after a while, so I started to focus on the ones that really intrigued me - like this one: "Wouldn't it be handy to have a life average affixed to a person, so that a homeless person might be hitting .171 and Lance Armstrong might be hitting .338, Michaelangelo maybe hit .401? If you had a life average, what do you think it might be?"
I kept dog-earing pages while I was reading every time I thought I came to my favorite question. This dog-ear lasted longest: "...can you slide up and down the spectrum of clulessness to clueness like a trombone or do you toot your one more or less dumb note all the livelong day?"
I had one strange experience while reading this book at the kitchen table during lunch. While I sat there reading question after question, Ella was next to me ASKING question after question: "When can we go on the slip and slide? Is it my birthday yet? What are we having for dinner? When will Sofie be home?" Should I transcribe this conversation and write my own book? Would you?
I kept dog-earing pages while I was reading every time I thought I came to my favorite question. This dog-ear lasted longest: "...can you slide up and down the spectrum of clulessness to clueness like a trombone or do you toot your one more or less dumb note all the livelong day?"
I had one strange experience while reading this book at the kitchen table during lunch. While I sat there reading question after question, Ella was next to me ASKING question after question: "When can we go on the slip and slide? Is it my birthday yet? What are we having for dinner? When will Sofie be home?" Should I transcribe this conversation and write my own book? Would you?
July 13, 2019
[Book returned after page 80]
The full title "The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?" hints how usual this book is: a book with only questions , all directed to the readers. A few of these questions can be hilarious or bizarre but the bulk of them are either comments disguised as questions on trivial matters or asking whether the reader knows something (a word, a scientific concept, a trivia, and whether the reader is bothered by not knowing the answer). Once in a while several questions in a row develop into some reflection on a concept but most questions here are not related to those preceding or following them. Unlike Reader's Block (a book of literary trivia and a very loose narrative), this reader finds it hard to find a reason to continue with this train of random question marks.
Hilarious:
If you were part of a couple living in a three-story wooden Victorian house with a bad paint job outside and a shabby interior,to the extent that some of your rooms were lit by bare lightbulbs on swinging cords effecting heavy glare on the beadboard walls, wouldn't you consider it an appropriate diversion for the two of you to play Norman Bates and his mother at least sometimes?
Bizarre:
What do you think the chances are that a man encouraging five-year-old to wear their birthday party hats as codpieces instead of on their heads would be reported to authorities by parents picking up these children from the party?
The full title "The Interrogative Mood: A Novel?" hints how usual this book is: a book with only questions , all directed to the readers. A few of these questions can be hilarious or bizarre but the bulk of them are either comments disguised as questions on trivial matters or asking whether the reader knows something (a word, a scientific concept, a trivia, and whether the reader is bothered by not knowing the answer). Once in a while several questions in a row develop into some reflection on a concept but most questions here are not related to those preceding or following them. Unlike Reader's Block (a book of literary trivia and a very loose narrative), this reader finds it hard to find a reason to continue with this train of random question marks.
Hilarious:
If you were part of a couple living in a three-story wooden Victorian house with a bad paint job outside and a shabby interior,to the extent that some of your rooms were lit by bare lightbulbs on swinging cords effecting heavy glare on the beadboard walls, wouldn't you consider it an appropriate diversion for the two of you to play Norman Bates and his mother at least sometimes?
Bizarre:
What do you think the chances are that a man encouraging five-year-old to wear their birthday party hats as codpieces instead of on their heads would be reported to authorities by parents picking up these children from the party?
December 24, 2009
You might think a book made entirely of questions sounds dumb or gimmicky, but the durable Mr. Powell obliterates that notion early on with killer sentence after killer sentence. Sure--it doesn't really amount to a real novel but the focus here is the voice. And man--what a voice it is! It's wild, taunting, playful, and erudite. And since the most used word in the book is "you" it's easy to feel included in this mad experiment. I was constantly amused and amazed while reading this, finding passages to read out loud often (he sure can riff). This is a book that will talked about for a long time.
December 27, 2012
I loved The Interrogative Mood by Padgett Powell. Period.
Why such declarative fervor? Because this is a book that pulled and moved me through the gamut of human experience without a single ending punctuation aside from a question mark. (What?) It’s a gimmick, but it was so much fun for me to participate in the play of it. It expects participation! The narrator asks the reader to double-check her knowledge, consider her assumptions, pick a side on issues both frivolous and all-important - he enlists her help and challenges her. Read a page of it (pretty much any page) and if you like his language, give the whole journey a try.
Why such declarative fervor? Because this is a book that pulled and moved me through the gamut of human experience without a single ending punctuation aside from a question mark. (What?) It’s a gimmick, but it was so much fun for me to participate in the play of it. It expects participation! The narrator asks the reader to double-check her knowledge, consider her assumptions, pick a side on issues both frivolous and all-important - he enlists her help and challenges her. Read a page of it (pretty much any page) and if you like his language, give the whole journey a try.
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