The two stories in this volume (Ward No. 6 and The Story of an Unknown Man) were a short break for me while I am reading and writing almost exclusively for my master thesis, because I needed some change and some literary input. This is the first time, I read prose written by Čechov, so far, I only enjoyed his late plays, in which, I have to say, the language is a bit more refined.
Still, I really enjoyed both stories and I cannot decide which one was my favourite. While Ward No. 6 definitely had the more interesting topic, The Story of an Unknown Man was captivating due to its unique mixture of elements from Čechov, Lermontov and Dostoevskij. I was (pleasantly) surprised by the amount of philosophy explicitly thrown into both stories, basically because this is something I haven’t seen Čechov do in his plays.
Bottom line: one can never read enough of Čechov.
I needed a short break from all the materials and even the topic of my master thesis and what better to read in this case than Čechov?
I just finished Čechovs story Ward No. 6, which I can assure you is amazing!
Slow but steady is what I would call my reading progress here..
The book is super interesting though. I just wish, I'd have more time to read!
Minae Mizumura IS BACK!
… at least in my bookshelf. As far as I know, the real Minae Mizumura didn’t go anywhere, so why would she be back.
Anyways, this is her first non-fiction book and so far it is written (= translated) so beautifully!
Well, this was disappointing.
Player Piano was not a good book, although everything about it seemed so promising at first – I hate it, when that happens! I really adore Vonnegut, therefore it is hard for me to admit, that he really did come a long way since his first novel and that he was not born the amazing writer I know him to be. Also, on the bright side – I am now convinced, that there is hope for every single amateur writer out there.
The whole story of a couple of very smart people planning a revolution and to overthrow the system (which I had a very hard time getting into right from the start) reminded me a lot of Superstoe and I am wondering if Mr. Borden was a fan of Vonnegut as well? Probably.
But instead of rambling and complaining about why I didn’t like Player Piano I tried to find something to take away from having read it. You know, always focus on the glass that is half-full. So I interpret it as a search for a purpose in life, because as comfortable as it is if you’re provided for concerning all your basic needs, it does not quite make life worth living per se (especially if machines are doing all the providing-work). Everybody needs a purpose in life and wants to feel useful in some way or another. The other thing I am taking away from Player Piano is the importance to just give a damn about what you are doing. I think this is something I (if not we all) ought to embrace more these days.
"History has a way of showing us what, in retrospect, are very logical solutions to awful messes."
It took me quite some time (time equals pages in this case) to get into the story of Player Piano, but now I think, we're getting somewhere.
The first 121 pages follow a clear concept, namely to explore the life of the Core-Beat poets Kerouac, Ginsberg and Burroughs. Those stories are either pretty much focused on their homoerotic sexlife or on the very basics of them moving around a lot while switching from one odd job to the next or running out of money. And those facts are somehow presented in a less entertaining way than in any reasonable wikipedia article.
The second half is a bit more random. Different illustrators and writers focus on various poets, on some special perspective or aspect associated with the Beats, but they never get enough space to adequately deal with the subjects. I got the impression, that their goal was to somehow cram as many poets in there as possible, sort of a better-than-usual-because-illustrated name-dropping.
The constant changing in the style of the artwork in the second half of the book gets really annoying and speaking of the artwork in general, I think it was shockingly mediocre and the portrayed poets did not necessarily resemble their real life alter egos if you compare them to actual footage or photographs. Don’t get me wrong – it is better than anything I could ever do, but also, I am not earning my living as an illustrator.
This is a book that needs some time for digesting. Even today and even for me.
Das Menschenschlachthaus (The Human Slaughterhouse) was a bestseller back in the days of 1912, years before books by Barbusse or Remarque were written, even before WW1 broke out. Lamszus, a cocksure pacifist who devoted his life to fight for peace tried to warn his audience of the dangers and devastating consequences of industrialised warfare. In his fictional scenario of a war between France and Germany he features the euphoria at the beginning and the resignation in the end, there are trenches, mines, shitty weather, the effects of machine guns against flesh and blood, the horrors of wounded soldiers, the nightmare visions of field hospitals, so basically WW1 without the gas.
The language is incredible, Lamszus knew how to make a point (no wonder, Barbusse was a fan of his). It’s great and easy to read, yet hard to take in.
I am still very much into dystopian fiction and Logan’s Run seemed like a classic must-read to me.
The story in a nutshell would be a future earth society in which everybody has to go or is being put to „sleep“ at the age of 21. If you want to live longer, you can try to run. But you will most likely be hunted down by the so called Sandmen or be killed by some renegades, outlaws, cyborgs or robots. Logan and Jessica run, survive various adventures, fall in love aaaand happy (yet kind of open) ending.
The novel has a classic late 60s setup – a strong, smart, goal-oriented, enduring white male protagonist and a pretty, quiet, cooperative, helpless female companion who stumbles and falls down a lot or who gets stripped naked and tied to a rock, waiting for rescue. And these rescue manoeuvres sometimes get quite ridiculous. I mean, at one point, Logan is forced to have sex with six lovely ladies in order to get an antidote and to save Jessica. Need I say more?
Logan’s Run is an okay entertainment, definitely no world-class literature and filled with 60s sexism, racism and all sorts of prejudices, also, the writing sometimes jumps between first and third person narration. But, let’s face it – it had me with words like „rebel hipsters“ or „pleasure gypsy“ on page one.
…just a side note: this is one of the rare occasions in which I think that the movie really is way better, because the story (in the movie) makes more sense and is less focused on showing what a tough guy Logan is.
Reading All Quiet on the Western Front made me not only appreciate our (more or less) peaceful present here in Europe, but it also made me wonder about WW1 in general. Although I am from Austria, the country which had a finger in both World War pies, I have to admit, that I am frightfully uninformed about this section of history. In school we somehow tend to briefly mention that WW1 happened because of the assassination of the Habsburg heir in order to focus the rest of our history classes almost exclusively on WW2.
After reading what Remarque had to say about the Western Front, I wanted to know what the other side of the story looked like in the French trenches straight across No Man’s Land, because when it comes to history, nothing is worse than a one-sided view. Since Barbusse’ novel Under Fire appeared in 1916, it was one of the first non-propaganda books about WW1 and although Barbusse and Remarque had similar aims and viewpoints, their novels differ considerably.
Under Fire basically tells the reader about the common soldiers’ everyday life in the French army, therefore not focusing so much on fighting action, but mainly on hopes and dreams, boredom, physical strains, angst and chaos. It is at the same time more humane and universal than Remarque’s novel, but in comparison doesn’t do such a good job at conveying the deep personal struggles of the protagonists.
Although Under Fire was a huge-ass success when it was published, I can now understand why All Quiet on the Western Front is completely overshadowing it. Barbusse’ writing style is something to get used to – it is partly realistic, yet extremely expressionistic and overly symbolic. Also, the many episodes of the novel are somewhat disconnected from each other in terms of time as well as space (=setting) and it as hard as it is annoying to try to follow the disjointed snippets of different conversations which are interrupting and overlying each other all the time.
I hoped that Barbusse’ novel would be as easy and exciting to read as Remarque’s All Quiet on the Western Front, but no. So far, definitely no.
I haven’t written anything in quite a while, because I fell ill and, of course, it was the worst time possible to be sick, because I had so much work to do which just kept piling up and had to be done. So, reading had to be halted for a couple of days as well. Also, my head hurt.
So, hi there! I am back again.
The most striking feature of Player Piano so far is the writing stlye. Since this is Vonneguts first novel, he clearly hasn’t found his distinctive style yet.
This is Steadman’s take on our dear old Sigmund Freud and his book Jokes and their Relation to the Unconscious. Even though this is by no means a scientific accurate book, you can still pick up some facts about Freud here and there – and if you are into psychoanalysis, you can probably learn a lot about Steadman through his drawings.
It is great to see some of Steadman’s art that is not Gonzo style and to really appreciate him as the superb artist he is. I could never take Freud seriously and I have been wondering for a long time if anyone in 2018 still does. Well, even back in 1981 Steadman obviously didn’t.
Btw, I bought this book for the art, not the text, because I simply adore Steadman’s work, therefore I was in no way disappointed. The text itself is okay and if you are seriously interested in Freud this is not the book you would pick up anyway.
Hey there! I hope everyone had a fantastic start into 2018!
I always like to take the first days of January to look back and recap what I read in the past year – which books did I love, which ones did I like ok and which ones did upset or disappoint me. So here we go – quick and dirty!
Books I loved
There were a lot of books which I really liked in 2017, so I wrecked my brain to distil the three absolute best of the best for you:
My favourite book must have been The Letters of Herman Melville – interesting, well written and as an highlight I recommend reading the letters he addressed to Nathaniel Hawthorne.
Another one of my favourites was A True Novel by Minae Mizumura which I binge read in 11 days despite the sheer amount of nearly 900 pages. And last, but definitely not least was the mother of all dystopian novels We by Evgenij Zamjatin.
Books I was disappointed in
Luckily, in this category there were not that many books to choose from. The biggest letdown and as I can remember also the most exhausting one to read must have been The Hunchback of Notre-Dame, which is sad, because I expected so much more from this classic. What the Hell did I just read was no favourite of mine neither, although this did not come as a surprise, because David Wong’s books are gradually declining in quality. And since I mentioned We as one of the best books, I have to admit that 1984 wasn’t really a good one, despite its status as the dystopian novel par excellence.
And some honourable mentions
Сердешна Оксана as the first (and so far only) book I read in Ukrainian, So long a letter as a fascinating account of the life of African women and both books written by Oscar Zeta Acosta (The Autobiography of a Brown Buffalo and The Revolt of the Cockrach People), because Acosta proves that even lawyers can be amazing writers and fight for what is right.
Who indeed. There is so much I didn’t know about Tom Baker, but reading his autobiography has made me appreciate him so much more.
What an odd fellow he must have been in his youth, growing up in a labouring class environment in Liverpool, always feeling a bit dissatisfied and out of touch with his fellow human beings. As much as I was trying, I just cannot picture this goofball as a monk (even less after reading about the thoughts he had during that time).
One marriage, two sons and a quite remarkable number of odd jobs here and there later and he finally stars in different theatre and movie productions (with various amounts of success). In this time he also befriends people like Anthony Hopkins – just imagine those two staggering out of a pub and wobbling down the street together, uniting those mighty voices!
Before becoming the Doctor, Tom Baker had quite a roller coaster life and luckily he survived a lot of suffering, self-doubting and states of depression. Naturally, his autobiography features quite a bit on Doctor Who, but less than one might think. It was especially those parts that brought tears to my eyes though, because reading about how happy it made him being the Doctor and bringing as much joy to children as he possibly could is heart warming beyond anything.
Some other parts were quite bitter and my heart sank while reading how disillusioned and frustrated he is concerning some parts of life like religion, friendship and relationships with women, despite the fact that he disguises his retrospective with a thick coat of irony.
Additionally, Tom Baker swears a lot and is quite occupied with his dick.
Even though most of us probably know him as two hearted gallifreyan Time Lord from another time and space, the man behind this role is so incredibly human! Throughout most of his life he had a sense of confusion and simply did not know what and how and why to which I can relate to more than I would like to admit.
After all, this is his autobiography and the way he wants to be remembered. For me Tom Baker made it quite clear, that he is way more than the fourth Doctor and that his life still has so much more to offer. A great last book of 2017.