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Slightly boring and on the nose so far.

Finished Amalfitano's chapter—how he came to live in Santa Teresa, Geometry, the strange relationship he develops with Dean Guerra's son, his ex-wife Lola's excursions across Spain (and, finally, Paris). The murders of young women in New Mexico are coming up more prominently. The "ghost of Amalfitano's father" is another strange occurrence in Amalfitano's story.

The Eschaton game was so hard to follow, but you've really gotta appreciate the level of detail that went into crafting a scene like this. This kind of obsessive world-building in a novel doesn't always land for me, but I do find it charming nonetheless.

The digital blackface in this novel is so lame, the story of Poor Tony et al is so compelling with its raw imagery, but it's undermined by this forced ebonic tongue rife with misspellings that make it kind of a chore.

I get DFW was really into the "method acting" style of writing but come on.

The fast food parking lot scene. The way Jack's family enter this trancelike state of bliss as they scarf down food in a parking lot, not a single wasted movement as they devour and swap foods with each other. There's a lack of self-awareness and pure carnal sensation in this scene that only dies down as the meal comes to its end.

Can't help but notice how often during Jack's introspections that he is distracted by advertising. He hums jingles for ads to himself, when he looks as a sunset and watches light move between the mountains he thinks of three different brand names of gum. That's our American ideal, advertising that unconsciously burrows into our psyches, never freeing us from its grasp even at our most vulnerable.

DeLillo's writes with level of dry with that's so charming, his portrayals of Americana are satirical to the point of sardonic, but are restrained enough that it reads more than just parody. He captures the idiosyncrasies of the 20th century American mixed family in a way that belies a lived experience in a rapidly changing society - bombarded on all sides by information, uncertainty, dreadful modernity.

I’m curious how much of this novella inspired Knausgaard’s quartet series. So far it’s been a collection of short passages, each one centering on an observation from the perspective of the unnamed narrator: a wall, a tree, a dog, etc.

Those long-form sentence structure does take a little bit of an adjustment, but the shorter passages make the structure feel less Sisyphean to get through.

The moment when Pale Fire "clicks" is one of the greatest literary highs I've ever experienced, when you finally understand how to read and place Kinbote's commentary into a context that makes sense, when the Zembla narrative no longer feels like a potpourri of nonsensical names and events, etc.

I can feel the tensions building, I can't wait to see how the rest plays out.

Very fun to compare and contrast this to the Welles film. The novel has a greater sense of meandering to it, which makes the oppressiveness of some of the setting more palpable to me. I think this is owing to Kafka's propensity to point out every detail in how characters react to dialogue, thought and movement in a scene.

Spite is a really great motivator, good for Tony.

Still light on plot, heavy on vibes though.

Really enjoying the vibes of this one - so far it’s been a much easier read compared to Kafka on the Shore. Has a lot of the same energy as Murakami’s short stories.

Plot feels a bit aimless so far, feels like a lot and not much has happened all at the same time. But the characters are continuously interesting enough for me to continue to see where things go.

Not too much of an opinion after Chapter, but I’m interested in seeing how the book develops. Got two interesting characters already - Mari; a loner girl and an unnamed boy who plays the Trombone.

Time seems to be a recurring element so I’m curious how much that will come into play later.

Was initially put off by this book because of the style of prose, but I am glad I pushed through because this is shaping up to be one of the most interesting wayfinders into the life on the fringes of society in, then’s, contemporary Japan.

Getting more interesting - the style of prose in this book was feeling a bit stiff, but I suppose it’s intentionally written that way due to Yozo’s wealthy upbringing, knowledge and repressed emotions.

Only made it through the preface and prologue so far - but what’s already stood out to me is the level of open-mindedness from the book’s interpreter. There’s an excellent critique of American’s and their criticism of Dazai’s work for not being “Japanese” enough.

Was very nice to see. Otherwise, I’m excited to get into the book proper.