Justin Evans > Recent Status Updates

First two volumes: excellent, if a little too much of a good thing. Very much looking forward to reading the biography of Johnson that's coming out later this year, and the third and fourth volumes of the novel. No thanks to NYRB for this idiotic publication format.

Malaparte: I want to love him. His cynicism is tainted with just enough pain. His symbols are wonderful. But either he, or his translators, couldn't write their way through a college admissions essay.

So far this is utter dreck. Why write a biography of Britain's greatest idealist, and then insist that he wasn't influenced by Hegel, *while discussing a book that obviously follows Hegel's categories precisely*? I know why, of course. Inglis doesn't understand Hegel.

The Preface includes the sentences: "A recent piece in the LRB started out with some malicious animadversions on the whole convention of prefatory acknowledgements... it is to be feared that so sneering a note is not untypical of the present journal's rival conviction that anything of literary note can only take place in NW6." Not a promising start to a bio of a beautiful writer.

The Preface includes the sentences: "A recent piece in the LRB started out with some malicious animadversions on the whole convention of prefatory acknowledgements... it is to be feared that so sneering a note is not untypical of the present journal's rival conviction that anything of literary note can only take place in NW6." Not a promising start to a bio of a beautiful writer.

I wish I'd read this before 'Cannonball,' which was quite bad, whereas each chapter of this is better than Cannonball. I wish I'd read this before all the other books I've read. I also wish I'd read this when I could understand it, which might be never. But I'm glad he wrote it. Side note: this was published by Knopf. things like this just don't happen anymore.

A harrowing tale of one woman's fight to overcome the bourgeois oppression of the husband who she was forced to... if I wanted to read a D. H. Lawrence novel, couldn't I just go read one? When White isn't at the peak of his style, his ideas become more noticeable. And that is no good for anyone.

'The Way Home' sees our hero rise, unequivocally, to the the upper class of the colony. I don't know if this is true, but I feel that the further we get from his humble origins, the greater the freedom Richardson takes with her style, the more modernist tricks she uses. Could be interesting as a sustained technique.

'Australia Felix' rests behind me. I doubt I could take quite so much realism if it wasn't by the Australian George Eliot and about Australia, and I was feeling homesick. As it is, a great nineteenth century novel, which hints at a great twentieth century novel to finish it off. The Proem is astonishing.

Only Volume the sixth to go. Volume the fifth included one of the worst chapters in the whole thing--a list of Byzantine emperors which makes the Biblical Begats seems like a worthwhile exercise--as well as a couple of the best: that on Muhammad and the first caliphs, and that on the Normans. In general, the 11th century AD is surely one of the most interesting of all time.

Half way through the whole thing: farewell, Western Empire. You sure weren't as much fun as the Eastern empire or the Dark Ages will be.

My sober and considered opinion, after volume the first: this is the greatest work of literature between Dante and Moby Dick.

What exactly does it mean to write a 1000 page realist novel with a half dozen passages of meta-narrative that complain about realism? I'm honestly not sure yet.

Much to my surprise, this is written in the same style as the first Brunist book, with two differences: first, Coover flits between points of view more quickly, which is usually a good thing, although there are a lot of characters; second, it's better written. And, so far, more intelligent.

Selections: "Why may not a poet suppose himself to have the gout, as well as suppose himself in love?" "There are inexcusable lies, and consecrated lies." "That man sat down to write a book, to tell the world what the world had all his life been telling him." "There have been many sad victims to absolute power./ So, sir, have there been to popular factions./ The question is, which is worst, one wild beast or many?"

Incipit my winter of Boswell. So many pearls already: "I have Johnsonised the land; and I trust they will not only talk, but think, Johnson." One can only hope.

Johnson's English instructor "published a spelling-book, and dedicated it to the UNIVERSE; but, I fear, no copy of it can now be had." And Goodreads won't allow me to put all of the gems in this little mention. I must note the phrase "complicated misery."

I've finished part one and I'm taking a breather before part 2. It's fairly clear that Cervantes is an enchanter, for how else could 80 pages of funny, clever faux-knight-errantry, leading into 350 pages of not particularly inspiring storytelling on the 1001 Nights model, and a 50 page end section of literary criticism *make me want to cry with joy and genuine sadness*? He's a magician, that's how.

Half way through. Less exhausting than I thought it would be!

First 2 volumes down: interesting oppositions b/n authority & independence; b/n fear & love.