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The sister’s storyline (and the prose within those sections) seems more Pynchon than McCarthy, and it is really interesting.

The brother’s half seem like McCarthy is writing his prose into a mystery novel; something almost Kafkaesque.

Very interested to see what happens. Maybe he will go full Twin Peaks.

This is dense and I’m at about a 3 page per day max.

Thought I would read something trashy. Leaf by Leaf made me do it.

“We are describing everyday events; but even everyday events look peculiar if they grow in peculiar soil.” This seems to be the thesis of The Magic Mountain so far, and I doubt it will change.
It can be hard to piece through the irony to find what Mann is getting at or what he holds to be true and correct. Hans Catorp’s contemptuous and unquestioning institutionalization seems to be the key to understanding.

The criticisms of The Recognitions difficulty are marginal, especially thanks to Steven Moore. To be clear, I find a kind of unparalleled satisfaction in the kind of difficulty found only in tough novels as a whole, but Mr. Moore has made this one a breeze. Gaddis’ prose is absolutely fantastic and the plot is simple enough thus far with its Faustian implications, angst, and coming-of-age backdrop.

“Curious she an only child, I an only child. So it returns. Think you're escaping and run into yourself. Longest way round is the shortest way home.”

The Cyclops (Chapter/Episode 12) was a highlight so far. Seeing Bloom at his wits end—misstating historical details within his unbridled rage—is the kind of climax I have wanted for him. He gets pushed around enough; good to see him stand up for himself.

“They’re so particular. Leave me in my native earth. Bit of clay from the holy land. Only a mother and deadborn child ever buried in the one coffin. I see what it means. I see. To protect him as long as possible even in the earth. The Irishman’s house is his coffin. Embalming in catacombs, mummies, the same idea.”

What a transition—philosophically—from Stephen to Bloom.

What a book.

It is about time I give this book a second read through. If anyone has any insights, I would very much appreciate it.

French people...am I right?

Third time reading, but not the last.

Chapter 5 was one of the funniest and well paced chapters I have ever read in any novel, ever.

DFW is shining just as bright in this as in IJ.

“He himself used to wake in terror to find whole congregations of the uninvited attending his bed, protean figures slouched among the room’s dark corners in all multiplicity of shapes, gibbons and gargoyles, arachnoids of outrageous size, a batshaped creature hung by some cunning in a high corner from whence clicked and winked like bone chimes its incandescent teeth.”

God damn, love this book.

It’s kind of fun. Reminds me of DeLillo, if DeLillo were a 25 year old English/Jamaican woman with limited life experience and a knack for being an okay story teller.

Coming off of Gaddis, Gass, Theroux, and Pynchon, this seems like a downgrade, as though I’m sipping DFW lite. But it is pretty funny and palate cleansing, like an advanced form of airport fiction; something to be read in-between actually reading.

Let’s see where this goes...

What the fuck am I reading?

I’ve been vacationing in California for a week with two younger brothers and two younger sisters, all under ten years old, so reading—to my dismay—has been difficult.

Happy to be getting back to it.