In an act of further smugness, I can cheerfully report that The Kindly Ones has now also been knocked off - in fact this was last week, but I've been busy.
I'm less convinced by this volume, though it is clearly aiming for 'significance' and seriousness as it takes us into the war. Schematically I found it a bit annoying, with the long Proustian childhood sequence and the obvious attempted parallel between the outbreak of the first and second wars, down to recurring characters in each. In theory this is fine, I just thought it was a bit clumsily done. Elsewhere, it pretty much meanders around, with some goodish unrelated scenes - Widmers again doing good work - and it ends pretty well, in a very Powellian twist where random acquaintance suddenly resolve the issue whereas figures well known to the narrator had proved their uselessness. It's all a bit familiar and even the plot twists are not as exciting as one feels they ought to be.
Much more surprising is the news that Keanu Reeves went on record last week saying he had just finished Proust. Do you think he'd be up for Powell?
Wednesday 17 December 2008
Time to start afresh...
I have been a bad, bad, boy regarding Mr Powell... Having started volume one, I never even finished it, let alone got as far as the dizzying heights of Mr Garrood. Anyway, as of tomorrow, I shall be at home in Co Durham almost permanently until the Autumn, in an attempt to find some peace and quiet in which to write up the D.Phil.
And so, I promise to start again, and to catch up... It's not as if I will have anything else to do!
And so, I promise to start again, and to catch up... It's not as if I will have anything else to do!
Tuesday 16 December 2008
Mollified
I've been prompted into updating on my recent progress. I knocked off Molly's almost two weeks ago but have sadly been reading nothing more exciting than a huge stack of UCAS forms since then (unless you count Titus Groan, the first of the Gormenghast books, which is, frankly, a bit of a drag). Well, I concur entirely with M. Garrood on this one - ALM was superb. Utterly delectable, and I hope the rest of the series continues as such. The character development of Jenkins is welcome, albeit offset by the appalingly sparse description of his new token female - honestly, if his fascination with Widmers, Quiggin, Erridge et al doesn't scream closet homo I don't know what does.
The undercurrent of political tension in Europe, and the suggestions of appeasement are curious - most certainly background music to the main dance at the moment, and one wonders how aware/bovvered the Upper Middle Classes really were of events cross channel. It's tempting, in an age of 24 hour news channels, for us to disregard the characters' relative indifference to Hitler as not being particularly credible - particularly when compared the constant barrage of outrage against Mugabe/China/Dubya/villain-of-the-week that El's employers espouse. For Powell's set there were clearly far more important matters to consider at the time, such as the three or four social events per day to drop in on and those coincidental bumpings-in-to at the Albert Memorial or in Chelsea apartments. In the next, bleaker, volume and thereon the seriousness of the situation seems desitined to bite them on the backsides. For now though - the dance is on!
P.S. Irittatingly, given we are now playing with the Experimental Law Variation of 3 volumes per 2 months, I am on an enforced sin-binning whilst volumes 5-9 lie gift-wrapped beneath a Christmas tree chez mes parentals. Chaps - please keep a seat for me at Casanova's Chinese Restaurant but go ahead and order, I'll be with you as soon as I am able.
The undercurrent of political tension in Europe, and the suggestions of appeasement are curious - most certainly background music to the main dance at the moment, and one wonders how aware/bovvered the Upper Middle Classes really were of events cross channel. It's tempting, in an age of 24 hour news channels, for us to disregard the characters' relative indifference to Hitler as not being particularly credible - particularly when compared the constant barrage of outrage against Mugabe/China/Dubya/villain-of-the-week that El's employers espouse. For Powell's set there were clearly far more important matters to consider at the time, such as the three or four social events per day to drop in on and those coincidental bumpings-in-to at the Albert Memorial or in Chelsea apartments. In the next, bleaker, volume and thereon the seriousness of the situation seems desitined to bite them on the backsides. For now though - the dance is on!
P.S. Irittatingly, given we are now playing with the Experimental Law Variation of 3 volumes per 2 months, I am on an enforced sin-binning whilst volumes 5-9 lie gift-wrapped beneath a Christmas tree chez mes parentals. Chaps - please keep a seat for me at Casanova's Chinese Restaurant but go ahead and order, I'll be with you as soon as I am able.
Wednesday 10 December 2008
That's better
I'm glad we upped the pace. Casanova's Chinese restaurant was good, in many ways I think the best of the lot (I feel I have said this before), but wouldn't have worked so well if I hadn't read it in such close proximity to the previous book.
In fact, quite a few things become very obvious by reading in close tracking to one another. The structure of the books become a lot clearer, with the dominant characters of the books really assert themselves when you aren't desperately trying to remember who they are. Moreland, the key man in CCR, is easier than most because he appears from nowhere (I had to check in Spurling) and gets a flashback at the beginning before we reconnect with time from ALM (in the intervening period our narrator has got married - we get no description of this passage at all).
It's an altogether bleaker book than the previous ones, ending depressingly and with a nice little twist. I reread the end of ALM and the contrast between them is striking. Because it tracks back at the beginning (brief cameo reappearance of Deacon), we get a much greater sense of a narrative arc, rather than the often fragmented and episodic nature of previous books. This one isn't perfect, but there is a real sense of a story in itself.
It also yielded my favourite line of the saga so far, more for the barb than the writing (Quiggin on Erridge):
He appears to have treated POUM, FAI, CNT, and UGT, as if they were all the same left-wing extension of the Labour Party. ... If you can't tell the difference between a Trotskyite-Communist, an Anarcho-Syndicalist, and a properly paid-up party member, you had better keen away from the barricades.
In fact, quite a few things become very obvious by reading in close tracking to one another. The structure of the books become a lot clearer, with the dominant characters of the books really assert themselves when you aren't desperately trying to remember who they are. Moreland, the key man in CCR, is easier than most because he appears from nowhere (I had to check in Spurling) and gets a flashback at the beginning before we reconnect with time from ALM (in the intervening period our narrator has got married - we get no description of this passage at all).
It's an altogether bleaker book than the previous ones, ending depressingly and with a nice little twist. I reread the end of ALM and the contrast between them is striking. Because it tracks back at the beginning (brief cameo reappearance of Deacon), we get a much greater sense of a narrative arc, rather than the often fragmented and episodic nature of previous books. This one isn't perfect, but there is a real sense of a story in itself.
It also yielded my favourite line of the saga so far, more for the barb than the writing (Quiggin on Erridge):
He appears to have treated POUM, FAI, CNT, and UGT, as if they were all the same left-wing extension of the Labour Party. ... If you can't tell the difference between a Trotskyite-Communist, an Anarcho-Syndicalist, and a properly paid-up party member, you had better keen away from the barricades.
Monday 8 December 2008
Pace duly upped
I glided through At Lady Molly's last week - all rather effortless I thought and I feel we're really getting going - about time! I'm very pleased with the decision to move to three volumes in two months, and have moved straight into Casanova's Chinese Restaurant.
I am hugely gratified to see our narrator actually doing something. Art books have been replaced by film scripts, which looks like proper hack-work, and suggest that our narrator might not be able to prance around thoughtless of money forever. I definitely noted a few choice quotes that I promptly forgot to write down.
There is some real grit in this volume as well, and I think it captures the strange unreality of serious politics in the 1930s, Spain and a European war both get major mentions, though as signs of points of view, not with any urgency attached. The symbolism of the retired general who has read Freud & Jung - and I'm straying into pretension - is here potent, and funny.
In many ways, Widmers and Erridge dominate the book, as poles of aristocratic leftism and middle-class 'getting on'. However, while Widmerpool is clearly ever more memorable and blackly comic in this book, I wonder if he is overplayed here. The situation are becoming a little absurd and straining reality. I'm part of the way into Casanova and he seems to have receded - so much for the better I feel.
Still no female characters of substance.
I am hugely gratified to see our narrator actually doing something. Art books have been replaced by film scripts, which looks like proper hack-work, and suggest that our narrator might not be able to prance around thoughtless of money forever. I definitely noted a few choice quotes that I promptly forgot to write down.
There is some real grit in this volume as well, and I think it captures the strange unreality of serious politics in the 1930s, Spain and a European war both get major mentions, though as signs of points of view, not with any urgency attached. The symbolism of the retired general who has read Freud & Jung - and I'm straying into pretension - is here potent, and funny.
In many ways, Widmers and Erridge dominate the book, as poles of aristocratic leftism and middle-class 'getting on'. However, while Widmerpool is clearly ever more memorable and blackly comic in this book, I wonder if he is overplayed here. The situation are becoming a little absurd and straining reality. I'm part of the way into Casanova and he seems to have receded - so much for the better I feel.
Still no female characters of substance.
Thursday 27 November 2008
Upping the pace
Is anyone else thinking that we could profitably up the pace on these novels. I am finding one a month a little slow - and I keep forgetting who people are. As we have done a full season, surely now is the time to start knocking them off quicker.
I would have thought two a month would be fine. That would leave us in good shape in finish in April as we did with Proust (well, not all of us, but close). Always best to clear the summer for other stuff.
Alternatively, we could do a season in two months, which would mean June.
I would have thought two a month would be fine. That would leave us in good shape in finish in April as we did with Proust (well, not all of us, but close). Always best to clear the summer for other stuff.
Alternatively, we could do a season in two months, which would mean June.
Thursday 20 November 2008
Well, firstly huge apologies for my lack of posting: down to indolence rather than anything else I'm afraid.
As for The Acceptance World I enjoyed it much more than book two and less so than book one. It's a relief that Things Seem To Be Happening now. A bit of plot never did anyone any harm after al. But I'm consistently dismayed as to how much of it all seems driven by conincidence and bumping into people rather than any sort of agency from any of the characters. That statue at the Albert memorial must have been a rather busier pedestrian interchange than it is nowadays.
I'd agree with Will that Widmerpool is turning out to be the most interesting character, though on reflection I think there's not much ambiguity in how Powell feels about him. He's a grasping, slightly stupid, thick-voiced man who still lives with his mother and has no understanding of social context whilst imagining himself to be the most socially adept person in any given circumstance. I think it's interesting that I only half want him to come a cropper, perhaps it's a side effect of the narrator's own inability to condemn Widmerpool.
I'm also waiting for a solidly believable female character to appear rather than the current roster of volatile femmes fatale/whores (Yes, there's an obvious joke to be made here but I'm not going to).
Perhaps it's a limitation of the narrator's world view, though I'm thinking it's more likely to be a deficiency in Powell's writing. Proust managed to create believable women who had a vividly depicted internal life, even if the narrator's frequently bizarre interpretation of that life was often foisted on the reader. At least they stuck in the mind, which is not something I could say about any of Powell's women.
Overall I have to say I'm finding this to be something of a Peter F Hamilton of novel sequences: lots of words but light on characters. And actually it's doing PFH a bit of a disservice, at least his plots are driven on by more than random chance.
Hmm. Time to order Summer from Amazon I think.
As for The Acceptance World I enjoyed it much more than book two and less so than book one. It's a relief that Things Seem To Be Happening now. A bit of plot never did anyone any harm after al. But I'm consistently dismayed as to how much of it all seems driven by conincidence and bumping into people rather than any sort of agency from any of the characters. That statue at the Albert memorial must have been a rather busier pedestrian interchange than it is nowadays.
I'd agree with Will that Widmerpool is turning out to be the most interesting character, though on reflection I think there's not much ambiguity in how Powell feels about him. He's a grasping, slightly stupid, thick-voiced man who still lives with his mother and has no understanding of social context whilst imagining himself to be the most socially adept person in any given circumstance. I think it's interesting that I only half want him to come a cropper, perhaps it's a side effect of the narrator's own inability to condemn Widmerpool.
I'm also waiting for a solidly believable female character to appear rather than the current roster of volatile femmes fatale/whores (Yes, there's an obvious joke to be made here but I'm not going to).
Perhaps it's a limitation of the narrator's world view, though I'm thinking it's more likely to be a deficiency in Powell's writing. Proust managed to create believable women who had a vividly depicted internal life, even if the narrator's frequently bizarre interpretation of that life was often foisted on the reader. At least they stuck in the mind, which is not something I could say about any of Powell's women.
Overall I have to say I'm finding this to be something of a Peter F Hamilton of novel sequences: lots of words but light on characters. And actually it's doing PFH a bit of a disservice, at least his plots are driven on by more than random chance.
Hmm. Time to order Summer from Amazon I think.
Sunday 16 November 2008
Accepted!
I'm done now. I found this the best of the three too, with the beginnings of a point emerging. I've had a quick chat with E about this though, and it's very unclear what the point is. And - in a real blast of proper (maybe not) reader - reception theory and other twaddle, I'm not sure the point I'm taking is what Powell meant, but, as with the French revolution, it may be too soon to say.
Anyway, I'm beginning to find Widmerpool the most interesting of the lot. Quiggin and Members are too obviously archetypes of the main strands in 1930s literary society to be of interest, while Templer (and obviously our narrator) is pretty much a plot device. But I think what is interesting about Widmerpool is how his rise is reflected. I have a feel that Powell hated people like that, and creates this monster (not a horrifying one) to showcase just how awful he felt new men were and how mystifying their rise was to him, while his main protagonist flutters away publishing a mysterious (and presumably quite bad) novel doubtless backed up with some private income and a non-job, affecting this slightly tedious affectation of the world rushing past him. Stringham and - plot device notwithstanding - Templer are much more sympathetic - at least they do things (and fuck up badly). In some senses of course, I'm reacting to Jenkins because there is something of that aspiration in me - he is probably the best dinner option of the lot, but it's not a side to be proud of.
Oh, and Andrew, you're not a Quiggin. I suspect there are no bollocks 'ultra-modern' dialectical theories coming out of your work - I'm willing to bet there will be in his.
Anyway, I'm beginning to find Widmerpool the most interesting of the lot. Quiggin and Members are too obviously archetypes of the main strands in 1930s literary society to be of interest, while Templer (and obviously our narrator) is pretty much a plot device. But I think what is interesting about Widmerpool is how his rise is reflected. I have a feel that Powell hated people like that, and creates this monster (not a horrifying one) to showcase just how awful he felt new men were and how mystifying their rise was to him, while his main protagonist flutters away publishing a mysterious (and presumably quite bad) novel doubtless backed up with some private income and a non-job, affecting this slightly tedious affectation of the world rushing past him. Stringham and - plot device notwithstanding - Templer are much more sympathetic - at least they do things (and fuck up badly). In some senses of course, I'm reacting to Jenkins because there is something of that aspiration in me - he is probably the best dinner option of the lot, but it's not a side to be proud of.
Oh, and Andrew, you're not a Quiggin. I suspect there are no bollocks 'ultra-modern' dialectical theories coming out of your work - I'm willing to bet there will be in his.
Tuesday 11 November 2008
Entirely Acceptable
I've a sneaking suspicion that I may just have crept ahead of Will, which will hopefully annoy him a little.
Knocked off The Acceptance World in a few days, mostly over the weekend. It's pretty easy going stuff - not as fluffy as Volume 1, but with more momentum than Volume 2. Pleasingly, the character of Jenkins (Powell) is developed a lot more in this book. We also get our first hints of the decline of some characters - the artists Isbistor and St John Clarke, Le Bas, Stringham and even Peter Templer's powers begin to fail him. This is all accompanied by the inexorable rise of Widmerpool, and to a lesser extent Quiggin too.
I think I enjoyed this volume especially, because we are all, quite obviously, in the Acceptance World (not italicised) ourselves to a greater or lesser extent. At what point in our lives do we accept that the futures we have invested in may or may not give us the returns we'd expected. I certainly don't feel I've settled with my lot, but I've got younger friends who have and much older friends who haven't. Of course, the depressing thing, and I've spoken with Will about this, is that I am probably the equivalent of Quiggin - the overtly ambitious state school/Oxbridge alumnus who tries just a little too hard (thankfully not a Marxist though) - and it seems that whilst even Widmerpool is redeemable, nobody, it seems, loves a Quiggin.
Knocked off The Acceptance World in a few days, mostly over the weekend. It's pretty easy going stuff - not as fluffy as Volume 1, but with more momentum than Volume 2. Pleasingly, the character of Jenkins (Powell) is developed a lot more in this book. We also get our first hints of the decline of some characters - the artists Isbistor and St John Clarke, Le Bas, Stringham and even Peter Templer's powers begin to fail him. This is all accompanied by the inexorable rise of Widmerpool, and to a lesser extent Quiggin too.
I think I enjoyed this volume especially, because we are all, quite obviously, in the Acceptance World (not italicised) ourselves to a greater or lesser extent. At what point in our lives do we accept that the futures we have invested in may or may not give us the returns we'd expected. I certainly don't feel I've settled with my lot, but I've got younger friends who have and much older friends who haven't. Of course, the depressing thing, and I've spoken with Will about this, is that I am probably the equivalent of Quiggin - the overtly ambitious state school/Oxbridge alumnus who tries just a little too hard (thankfully not a Marxist though) - and it seems that whilst even Widmerpool is redeemable, nobody, it seems, loves a Quiggin.
Friday 7 November 2008
Off the market!
Very relieved to be able to use a blog title that I came up with several weeks ago (can you tell?). I finished A Buyer's Market last night as the bus pulled up at my stop. The last hundred pages or so flew by actually, and I think I'm now getting to grips with the interconnected style of the books, which may have hampered my progress through BM initially.
The change of tone did for me at first - I miss the jolly japery of A Question of Upbringing, but that's right I think - don't we all miss our college days? I know I do, even though to some extent I still have them. The transition from volume 2 to 3 is less dramatic and I suspect we'll now see more gradual progressions through the Dance after a frantic opening movement.
Overall, this is definitely Jenkins' Budding Grove period, and the book is obviously littered with rites of passage - a wedding, an engagement, a funeral, even, we presume, Jenkins losing his virginity in a splendidly bathetic moment. We're also treated to his overly-earnest musings on love and which women might be suitable for/worthy of him, and did I detect a hint of jealousy when it's revealed that Widmerpool has got his end away before him? This theme, by the way, is picked up almost immediately in The Acceptance World, and I suspect, will continue at least until the end of the "spring movement".
The other comment I have is to semi-seriously (sorry!) note the Proust influence beginning to creep in. Not just the musings on time or the interminable salon scenes, but Jenkins pondering art and a career as a writer, the strange way in which people drop in and out of each other's lives (these people really need Facebook), and the emergence of Widmerpool as a Charlus-esque comic character. Perhaps Stringham is to become our Saint-Loup.
Finally, I had a good discussion about Powell (pronounced Pole apparently), with a Fellow of Kings a week or so ago. He read the books as they appeared, which must have been great fun to do, if a little confusing each time when trying to remember all of the characters after a break of a year. He concurs, by the way, with Mme Garrood that the middle volumes are a joy, but the final one a bit of a let down. I told him I'd get back to him with my thoughts next August.
The change of tone did for me at first - I miss the jolly japery of A Question of Upbringing, but that's right I think - don't we all miss our college days? I know I do, even though to some extent I still have them. The transition from volume 2 to 3 is less dramatic and I suspect we'll now see more gradual progressions through the Dance after a frantic opening movement.
Overall, this is definitely Jenkins' Budding Grove period, and the book is obviously littered with rites of passage - a wedding, an engagement, a funeral, even, we presume, Jenkins losing his virginity in a splendidly bathetic moment. We're also treated to his overly-earnest musings on love and which women might be suitable for/worthy of him, and did I detect a hint of jealousy when it's revealed that Widmerpool has got his end away before him? This theme, by the way, is picked up almost immediately in The Acceptance World, and I suspect, will continue at least until the end of the "spring movement".
The other comment I have is to semi-seriously (sorry!) note the Proust influence beginning to creep in. Not just the musings on time or the interminable salon scenes, but Jenkins pondering art and a career as a writer, the strange way in which people drop in and out of each other's lives (these people really need Facebook), and the emergence of Widmerpool as a Charlus-esque comic character. Perhaps Stringham is to become our Saint-Loup.
Finally, I had a good discussion about Powell (pronounced Pole apparently), with a Fellow of Kings a week or so ago. He read the books as they appeared, which must have been great fun to do, if a little confusing each time when trying to remember all of the characters after a break of a year. He concurs, by the way, with Mme Garrood that the middle volumes are a joy, but the final one a bit of a let down. I told him I'd get back to him with my thoughts next August.
Wednesday 5 November 2008
Not furnishing mine
I took delivery of the remaining volumes today - I now have all 12, and am beginning to regret not having gone down the 12 volume option. While my four are handsome enough, they lack the real impressiveness of the full run.
It is all a little academic anyway, they are in face lining my desk at work, rather than furnishing my rooms at home due to ongoing decoration needs. I'm now pursuing a slightly odd policy of reading books to bring them into work, and leaving them there - causing some concern there.
Nonetheless I will begin vol 3 imminently - in the meantime, I am mostly reading travel literature as it's one of the only categories that isn't in boxes or dumped on the spare bed.
It is all a little academic anyway, they are in face lining my desk at work, rather than furnishing my rooms at home due to ongoing decoration needs. I'm now pursuing a slightly odd policy of reading books to bring them into work, and leaving them there - causing some concern there.
Nonetheless I will begin vol 3 imminently - in the meantime, I am mostly reading travel literature as it's one of the only categories that isn't in boxes or dumped on the spare bed.
Tuesday 28 October 2008
Champagne, Beards and Tiaras
Oh bother it! I'm having quite simply the most frustrating reading month in a long time. I actually haven't finished a single book since returning from the Windies in the middle of September! This is partly because I have 3 on the go, partly because I pounded out a book per day on that trip and partly because I just can't be bothered. That said, I've been caned by the start of the new term and the realisation that I am now fully integrated into the Cambridge system, so no-one's cutting me any slack (least of all the 5 students in my lab, but a few grant deadlines rathered killed the passion for reading, so to speak). I didn't get a chance to read in Korea - I was too busy being wined, dined, shown around and offered prostitutes by my hosts.
The good news is that things are now back on track with A Buyer's Market. I've finished the first, killer chapter - never was a fan of those salon scenes in Proust, and it's finally getting going now. Plus, the re-introduction of Stringham (hurrah!) has lifted the mood. Quite why Jenkins is currently wandering around a rather salacious party pontificating on whether Uncle Giles would approve of it is beyond me though.
Although I'm out every night, I'm going to have a push this week to try to finish it and segue straight into The Acceptance World. I had the same problem with Budding Grove last time out - perhaps I suffer from difficult second volume syndrome.
The good news is that things are now back on track with A Buyer's Market. I've finished the first, killer chapter - never was a fan of those salon scenes in Proust, and it's finally getting going now. Plus, the re-introduction of Stringham (hurrah!) has lifted the mood. Quite why Jenkins is currently wandering around a rather salacious party pontificating on whether Uncle Giles would approve of it is beyond me though.
Although I'm out every night, I'm going to have a push this week to try to finish it and segue straight into The Acceptance World. I had the same problem with Budding Grove last time out - perhaps I suffer from difficult second volume syndrome.
Thursday 23 October 2008
Come on chaps. Anyone would think they were long.
Now, there is no shame in not reading, but much shame in not posting. I feel this blog as an enterprise is lagging for want of communication between members around matters Powellian and otherwise. We somehow didn't seem to have this problem with Proust, but maybe Powell is not pretentious enough - this I find not to be true. So pick up your (metaphorical) pens and write.
As an aside, I gave my mother the guide for her birthday. Apparently volume 12 is rubbish, but the middle ones excellent. We have much to look forward to.
Wednesday 8 October 2008
Bought!
I get the feeling sometimes that I am taking this more seriously then everyone else, but volume 2 complete now.
This felt much more substantial than the first volume - not least because it is actually longer. However, key themes are starting to emerge: we have a greater sense of recurring characters, some of whom - Widmerpool and Quiggin in particular - positively scream generic archetype too much for my liking, though both are starting to become a little more specific and human. No explicit Proust references, though some banging on about time - with differing levels of profundity and success - and for fans of the interminable Proust salon scenes they are replaced by a slightly racier party, with fictitious royalty rather than some real nobility - boo.
Overall though it's a tricky second volume. E was right to point to a serious difference in tone, but structurally it's the same - i.e., big disconnected chunks - which could get quite annoying as we flit through a few years. Unlike Proust where the only two datable sections are the Dreyfus affair and WWI, I get the feeling that dates are going to be important in this one, so it would be better if we had some help. I'm still looking forward to vol 3, but I am feeling that this is still struggling to get into its stride. I hope it does.
And we appear not be the only people doing this.
This felt much more substantial than the first volume - not least because it is actually longer. However, key themes are starting to emerge: we have a greater sense of recurring characters, some of whom - Widmerpool and Quiggin in particular - positively scream generic archetype too much for my liking, though both are starting to become a little more specific and human. No explicit Proust references, though some banging on about time - with differing levels of profundity and success - and for fans of the interminable Proust salon scenes they are replaced by a slightly racier party, with fictitious royalty rather than some real nobility - boo.
Overall though it's a tricky second volume. E was right to point to a serious difference in tone, but structurally it's the same - i.e., big disconnected chunks - which could get quite annoying as we flit through a few years. Unlike Proust where the only two datable sections are the Dreyfus affair and WWI, I get the feeling that dates are going to be important in this one, so it would be better if we had some help. I'm still looking forward to vol 3, but I am feeling that this is still struggling to get into its stride. I hope it does.
And we appear not be the only people doing this.
Monday 29 September 2008
Not drowning, but waving
Forgive the unforgivably crass allusion in the title... Anyway, I am (a) still alive and (b) still only on Chapter 3. Progress has been impeded by a (paid) job which overran by about a week, and which is still dragging on, so I never started as early as I needed to have done to finish and think and blog by the end of the month. Added to this, I think it might be wise to do some preparation for my job-interview on Wednesday...
But enough excuses: I am enjoying it, although not quite as much as I thought I would. Perhaps it's because I am tired, but I am finding the prose a little flat in places. It feels like a slightly less rich version of Brideshead at the moment, which may be a function of misconceived assumptions on my part. It has yet to become a distinctive world for me - probably because of the number of similar period books I have read.
But anyway, rest assured, I should be done by the end of the week, and may even then keep up with the rest of you. Achilles and the tortoise, remember...
But enough excuses: I am enjoying it, although not quite as much as I thought I would. Perhaps it's because I am tired, but I am finding the prose a little flat in places. It feels like a slightly less rich version of Brideshead at the moment, which may be a function of misconceived assumptions on my part. It has yet to become a distinctive world for me - probably because of the number of similar period books I have read.
But anyway, rest assured, I should be done by the end of the week, and may even then keep up with the rest of you. Achilles and the tortoise, remember...
An unquestionably different upbringing
Two days to go before A Buyer's Market opens for business, and it looks like half our number may have fallen at the first, which would be a sadness. Still time to catch up though, particularly given how easy the first volume was to read and how much fun it was. I have a train journey on Wednesday, plus a weekend chez mes parentals, so I expect to have Vol 2 done and dusted before I go to Korea next Tuesday.
In the meantime I've been reading two books. The first is Murakami's latest short stories. Yes, still trying to finish it from holiday. I've been frustrated by this, as I feel I often am by longer collections of short stories - >6 by one author and they suddenly all begin to sound the same... certainly the case here. I also can't make up my mind about whether the stories themselves are mystical and profound modern day fairy stories, or just slightly weird but ultimately vacuous nonsense. I've found it helps by tackling them one at a time on the bus in the morning, rather than trying to read a chunk in one go - by taking my time, I'm enjoying them more.
I'm also reading Nelson Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom, which is a chunky volume and not conducive to commuter reading. Interestingly, by tackling this in parallel with Powell I seem to have dovetailed the appropriate stages of Nelson's upbringing with Jenkins', making for interesting, amateurish and entirely superfluous comparisons... so here we go:
1. The Trust is an obvious starting point, with Nelson having been left certain items by his father (notably a revolver) but having been adopted by the local tribal chief, his father's one-time employer, and thus coming into an inheritance, as well as having early brushes with society. The setting, however, of the Transkei bushveld in NM's case and London in Jenkins' case is a clear difference. In fact NM doesn't even hit the big city (Jo'burg) until Chapter 8, aged 24, and is overwhelmed by it.
2. Both, however, attend the pre-eminent public school in the area (although co-ed in NM's case), and Mr Mandela does describe his higher education college, renowned in the area and indeed across all of South Africa, as being to him "Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard and Yale all rolled into one".
3. Both appear to be equally clueless with members of the fairer sex, yet have a companion who is far more accomplished in this area. I suspect this would apply to most teenage/early 20s boys though.
4. On the subject of companions though, both would appear to be keeping questionable company up to this stage - liable to lead them astray at some point. Nelson's hanging out with communists at the moment though, which are clearly far more dangerous than Messrs Templer and Stringham, though I'm not yet sure what to make of Kenneth Widmerpool.
Sadly however, this interesting synchronisation is unlikely to succeed much further as an experiment in comparative literature. I'll probably bash through the rest of ALWTF in and on the way to/from Korea. Besides, we already know how Nelson turns out anyway... only time will tell whether Jenkins evolves into a black freedom fighter. I suspect he won't.
In the meantime I've been reading two books. The first is Murakami's latest short stories. Yes, still trying to finish it from holiday. I've been frustrated by this, as I feel I often am by longer collections of short stories - >6 by one author and they suddenly all begin to sound the same... certainly the case here. I also can't make up my mind about whether the stories themselves are mystical and profound modern day fairy stories, or just slightly weird but ultimately vacuous nonsense. I've found it helps by tackling them one at a time on the bus in the morning, rather than trying to read a chunk in one go - by taking my time, I'm enjoying them more.
I'm also reading Nelson Mandela's Long Walk to Freedom, which is a chunky volume and not conducive to commuter reading. Interestingly, by tackling this in parallel with Powell I seem to have dovetailed the appropriate stages of Nelson's upbringing with Jenkins', making for interesting, amateurish and entirely superfluous comparisons... so here we go:
1. The Trust is an obvious starting point, with Nelson having been left certain items by his father (notably a revolver) but having been adopted by the local tribal chief, his father's one-time employer, and thus coming into an inheritance, as well as having early brushes with society. The setting, however, of the Transkei bushveld in NM's case and London in Jenkins' case is a clear difference. In fact NM doesn't even hit the big city (Jo'burg) until Chapter 8, aged 24, and is overwhelmed by it.
2. Both, however, attend the pre-eminent public school in the area (although co-ed in NM's case), and Mr Mandela does describe his higher education college, renowned in the area and indeed across all of South Africa, as being to him "Oxford, Cambridge, Harvard and Yale all rolled into one".
3. Both appear to be equally clueless with members of the fairer sex, yet have a companion who is far more accomplished in this area. I suspect this would apply to most teenage/early 20s boys though.
4. On the subject of companions though, both would appear to be keeping questionable company up to this stage - liable to lead them astray at some point. Nelson's hanging out with communists at the moment though, which are clearly far more dangerous than Messrs Templer and Stringham, though I'm not yet sure what to make of Kenneth Widmerpool.
Sadly however, this interesting synchronisation is unlikely to succeed much further as an experiment in comparative literature. I'll probably bash through the rest of ALWTF in and on the way to/from Korea. Besides, we already know how Nelson turns out anyway... only time will tell whether Jenkins evolves into a black freedom fighter. I suspect he won't.
Thursday 18 September 2008
A step behind
I've been a little remiss. I finished this volume over a week and a half ago, at the start of my own marathon holiday reading fest, but have failed to blog until now. As astute readers will recall, I was planning to head to one of the remaining outposts of the Evil Empire, however Richard Branson had other plans and refused to fly me to Havana... it was a bit windy apparently. Left with the choice of postponing or a largely uninspiring list of alternatives I found myself finishing Powell on a flight to the West Indies, before enjoying an unexpectedly pleasant week in Barbados. Etymologically, I'm sure that this would meet with the approval of the Beard Liberation Front (perhaps I have revealed Branson's motive after all).
That holiday reading list in full:
Anthony Powell; A Question of Upbringing
Graham Greene; Our Man in Havana
Michael Frayn; Towards the End of the Morning
John Fowles; The French Lieutenant's Woman
Ernest Hemingway; The Snows of Kilimanjaro
Kingsley Amis; The Old Devils
Pedro Juan Guttierez; Dirty Havana Trilogy
Haruki Murakami; Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
You'll notice an unfortunate Cuban flavour to the selection. Still, I'm not sure what Barbadian offerings I could have chosen from - I am acutely aware that my knowledge of Caribbean/Carribbean-based literature is limited to Cuba and Jamaica (Wide Sargasso Sea, Small Island for the latter). For the most part the books I did read were hugely enjoyable. Clear highlight was the Fowles, which was gloriously pretentious. The only real disappointment was the Hemingway, which was very patchy - I'm beginning to wonder if I have grown out of him... a sadness.
Still, to return to Powell, and bearing in mind I read it 8 books ago, I did enjoy it very much and concur largely with Will and El's thoughts. The oddest experience, for me, was the familiarity with the types of character and plot. Perhaps this is not so strange for the second half of the book, given my past membership of two of Oxford's most traditional colleges, but my school (whose most celebrated alumnus, according to Wikipedia, is rather alarmingly the most recent winner of Channel 4's Big Brother) couldn't have been more different to Powell's Eton. I offer two examples of that vague familiarity that may have struck a chord with other Powellanauts:
1. The portly, unmarried, elderly gentleman who dines alone in the same Italian restaurant every evening.
2. The Don with strongly-held political beliefs (ignoring the fact that Sillery was a liberal) and a penchant for admitting well-connected public school boys, who boasts that his students run the world.
Moreover, the legend of Widmerpool's coat, and his subsequent reputation that outlives all memory of the precise nature of said coat, parallels any number of anecdotes and probably unfair social brandings that litter every stage of my time in formal education. The kind of harmless inconsequential occurence that just seems to stick. Much joy! I also considered writing down a list of the large number of literary references, but thought this would look like a very weird thing to be doing in Economy Class. I'll refer to my recently ordered guide instead.
Well, I'm looking forward to the next volume very much. One other thought before I sign off, we have discussed Powellathon socials. I am assuming a similar lack of choreographic ability amongst the other Powellanauts, thus ruling out an actual Dance to the Music of Time, but as a rough schedule:
December: A Pub Trip to the Music of Time (Casual dress)
April: A Cocktail Party to the Music of Time (Smart casual)
July: Dinner to the Music of Time (Black Tie)
October: A Ball to the Music of Time (White Tie)
Thoughts?
That holiday reading list in full:
Anthony Powell; A Question of Upbringing
Graham Greene; Our Man in Havana
Michael Frayn; Towards the End of the Morning
John Fowles; The French Lieutenant's Woman
Ernest Hemingway; The Snows of Kilimanjaro
Kingsley Amis; The Old Devils
Pedro Juan Guttierez; Dirty Havana Trilogy
Haruki Murakami; Blind Willow, Sleeping Woman
You'll notice an unfortunate Cuban flavour to the selection. Still, I'm not sure what Barbadian offerings I could have chosen from - I am acutely aware that my knowledge of Caribbean/Carribbean-based literature is limited to Cuba and Jamaica (Wide Sargasso Sea, Small Island for the latter). For the most part the books I did read were hugely enjoyable. Clear highlight was the Fowles, which was gloriously pretentious. The only real disappointment was the Hemingway, which was very patchy - I'm beginning to wonder if I have grown out of him... a sadness.
Still, to return to Powell, and bearing in mind I read it 8 books ago, I did enjoy it very much and concur largely with Will and El's thoughts. The oddest experience, for me, was the familiarity with the types of character and plot. Perhaps this is not so strange for the second half of the book, given my past membership of two of Oxford's most traditional colleges, but my school (whose most celebrated alumnus, according to Wikipedia, is rather alarmingly the most recent winner of Channel 4's Big Brother) couldn't have been more different to Powell's Eton. I offer two examples of that vague familiarity that may have struck a chord with other Powellanauts:
1. The portly, unmarried, elderly gentleman who dines alone in the same Italian restaurant every evening.
2. The Don with strongly-held political beliefs (ignoring the fact that Sillery was a liberal) and a penchant for admitting well-connected public school boys, who boasts that his students run the world.
Moreover, the legend of Widmerpool's coat, and his subsequent reputation that outlives all memory of the precise nature of said coat, parallels any number of anecdotes and probably unfair social brandings that litter every stage of my time in formal education. The kind of harmless inconsequential occurence that just seems to stick. Much joy! I also considered writing down a list of the large number of literary references, but thought this would look like a very weird thing to be doing in Economy Class. I'll refer to my recently ordered guide instead.
Well, I'm looking forward to the next volume very much. One other thought before I sign off, we have discussed Powellathon socials. I am assuming a similar lack of choreographic ability amongst the other Powellanauts, thus ruling out an actual Dance to the Music of Time, but as a rough schedule:
December: A Pub Trip to the Music of Time (Casual dress)
April: A Cocktail Party to the Music of Time (Smart casual)
July: Dinner to the Music of Time (Black Tie)
October: A Ball to the Music of Time (White Tie)
Thoughts?
Sunday 14 September 2008
A Jam Crisis
Not something, fortunately, which I have direct experience of, but a worrying proposition nevertheless.
I have returned from the forty degree heat of Sicily almost read out, a blissful and (for me) rather unusual state.
Powell in that context was like a strong cup of tea and a biscuit, and managed to make me feel an odd kind of homesickness. This whole first book felt a bit like grown-up Enid Blyton. In a good way, I hasten to add, but hot on the heels of V by Thomas Pynchon it felt a little lightweight.
I'm sure that's hugely unfair though. It's unfettered by Pynchon's inability to approach any narrative event head on for a start, and some memorable characters who have the ring of truth about them.
I wonder about the narrator's apparent colourlessness (is that even a word?) though, and whether it will start to grate; or if he were as much of a Character as his school chums perhaps that would grate even more. Certainly he evokes well the sort of hesitant uncertainty that plagued my teenage years.
Hell, even my not-so-teenage years.
Hmm. And he does seem awfully naive for a lad of seventeen.
Anyways, as English as jam and crumpets, and just as enjoyable. Some thoughts:
- Was it designed to be written in yearly chunks? Would explain the first two publication dates and why this one feels so introductory
- Had a look at the next book (yes, yes, I know, very naughty) and was immediately struck by the difference in tone. I think a monthly timetable very wel suited. Just a shame we're starting Spring in Autumn but can't be helped
- There's a slightly terrifying handbook to the series. Anyone come across it yet?
That's all for now, pip pip
I have returned from the forty degree heat of Sicily almost read out, a blissful and (for me) rather unusual state.
Powell in that context was like a strong cup of tea and a biscuit, and managed to make me feel an odd kind of homesickness. This whole first book felt a bit like grown-up Enid Blyton. In a good way, I hasten to add, but hot on the heels of V by Thomas Pynchon it felt a little lightweight.
I'm sure that's hugely unfair though. It's unfettered by Pynchon's inability to approach any narrative event head on for a start, and some memorable characters who have the ring of truth about them.
I wonder about the narrator's apparent colourlessness (is that even a word?) though, and whether it will start to grate; or if he were as much of a Character as his school chums perhaps that would grate even more. Certainly he evokes well the sort of hesitant uncertainty that plagued my teenage years.
Hell, even my not-so-teenage years.
Hmm. And he does seem awfully naive for a lad of seventeen.
Anyways, as English as jam and crumpets, and just as enjoyable. Some thoughts:
- Was it designed to be written in yearly chunks? Would explain the first two publication dates and why this one feels so introductory
- Had a look at the next book (yes, yes, I know, very naughty) and was immediately struck by the difference in tone. I think a monthly timetable very wel suited. Just a shame we're starting Spring in Autumn but can't be helped
- There's a slightly terrifying handbook to the series. Anyone come across it yet?
That's all for now, pip pip
Wednesday 3 September 2008
First dance
It's impossible to find a good one liner about first dances - well, from a minute of Google anyway. Nonetheless, I completed my first volume yesterday.
It's quite a curious book, in many ways. If I had read it as a standalone work, I think I would be mystified and not a little irritated. Quite frankly, having read it as part of a 12 part series, it's not entirely clear what the point is either. The sensation, though not the plot or setting, is reminiscent of the first volume of Durrell's Anignon Quintet, though infinitely less barking.
That said, I enjoyed it greatly, and evokes very well that strange inter-war era in Britian where entrenched privilege went hand in hand both with a need for service or a career, but a kind of haphazard approach to preparation for it. From the protagonists perspective, the nineteenth century, possible the Edwardian era is still the dominant template. Uncle Giles' abiding interest in the Trust is reminiscent of no other author so much as Trollope. And I love Trollope.
It's quite a curious book, in many ways. If I had read it as a standalone work, I think I would be mystified and not a little irritated. Quite frankly, having read it as part of a 12 part series, it's not entirely clear what the point is either. The sensation, though not the plot or setting, is reminiscent of the first volume of Durrell's Anignon Quintet, though infinitely less barking.
That said, I enjoyed it greatly, and evokes very well that strange inter-war era in Britian where entrenched privilege went hand in hand both with a need for service or a career, but a kind of haphazard approach to preparation for it. From the protagonists perspective, the nineteenth century, possible the Edwardian era is still the dominant template. Uncle Giles' abiding interest in the Trust is reminiscent of no other author so much as Trollope. And I love Trollope.
Monday 1 September 2008
Entering the fray
I seem to have adopted military allusions for my posts on this one. Given the subject matter, that's probably inappropriate. I've had a good reading month in August, with my list here. The standout was David Lodge, which was great value, and less than 250 pages - perhaps not ideal preparation.
Anyway, I also had a Eurostar jouney this morning, most of which I spent asleep, but did allow me to get cracking, and it's going to be great. It's also jolly easy to read. I knocked off 100 pages or so before I got to work and am thoroughly looking forward to more.
Anyway, I also had a Eurostar jouney this morning, most of which I spent asleep, but did allow me to get cracking, and it's going to be great. It's also jolly easy to read. I knocked off 100 pages or so before I got to work and am thoroughly looking forward to more.
Hurricanes and Hurricane Lamps
Has anyone started yet?
I read the first sentence this morning, as a token nod to the official start date, but it may not be until the end of the week before I start in earnest. I had a productive weekend's reading in preparation. I finished Dune which I had been reading last week - partly because it features on a list of significant 20th Century novels that I have been working through, and partly on Mr Garrood's recommendation - still, wasn't that impressed I have to say. I haven't read any Sci-Fi since my teenage years and I remember why now - cardboard cut-out characters, linear plots and contrived situations, all wrapped it in a handy mythology which allows the author to get away with pretty much any kind of nonsense that he wants to. I took particular exception to the irritating asides, where one "hears" what a character is thinking... per-lease... don't insult my intelligence Mr Herbert.
On the other hand, I re-read Julian Barnes' superb collection of Guardian columns, The Pedant in the Kitchen, having given it to Will's wife for her birthday last week. It's lost none of it's sarcastic, anti-faddist charm, despite being easily dated to the early 2000s post-River Cafe/Jamie cookery book boom. For fans of Barnes, it is clear that he is every bit the cantankerous old sod that many of his most-lovable protagonists are. Plus, it is short.
Before hitting The Dance later this week, I am reading Stephen Smith's book on Cuba, The Land of Miracles (a semi-ironic title), which is so far excellent. I want to polish it off before my trip to the Gustav-swept isle next Sunday. Powell is top of a list of about 8 books being taken to Havana if not finished before, which also includes the appropriate Greene and Hemingway. I shall blog on my return.
I read the first sentence this morning, as a token nod to the official start date, but it may not be until the end of the week before I start in earnest. I had a productive weekend's reading in preparation. I finished Dune which I had been reading last week - partly because it features on a list of significant 20th Century novels that I have been working through, and partly on Mr Garrood's recommendation - still, wasn't that impressed I have to say. I haven't read any Sci-Fi since my teenage years and I remember why now - cardboard cut-out characters, linear plots and contrived situations, all wrapped it in a handy mythology which allows the author to get away with pretty much any kind of nonsense that he wants to. I took particular exception to the irritating asides, where one "hears" what a character is thinking... per-lease... don't insult my intelligence Mr Herbert.
On the other hand, I re-read Julian Barnes' superb collection of Guardian columns, The Pedant in the Kitchen, having given it to Will's wife for her birthday last week. It's lost none of it's sarcastic, anti-faddist charm, despite being easily dated to the early 2000s post-River Cafe/Jamie cookery book boom. For fans of Barnes, it is clear that he is every bit the cantankerous old sod that many of his most-lovable protagonists are. Plus, it is short.
Before hitting The Dance later this week, I am reading Stephen Smith's book on Cuba, The Land of Miracles (a semi-ironic title), which is so far excellent. I want to polish it off before my trip to the Gustav-swept isle next Sunday. Powell is top of a list of about 8 books being taken to Havana if not finished before, which also includes the appropriate Greene and Hemingway. I shall blog on my return.
Tuesday 26 August 2008
Preparations...
August has been slightly book-heavy for me, as an obvious consequence of working in a 2nd hand bookshop (Waterfields on Oxford High Street, for those of you who know it). So, in addition to the piles and piles of trash novels that I have read, I also have the following lurking in a reproachful pile next to my bed:
- Robert Blake's Biography of Disraeli (which I've started, and is jolly good);
- Karl Popper's intellectual autobiography, "Unended Quest" (double ditto);
- Hayek, Road to Serfdom, which I bought new, feeling it was some kind of gap in my political knowledge. Anyway, 150 pages in, it is excellent, although sometimes prone to attacking paper tigers.
I've still not got any further with Trollope, which I think may be permanently shelved. There's also a large pile of (popular) history books which I will try to fit around Powelling - top of the list being various tomes on the English Civil War and its aftermath..
Does anyone else use www.librarything.com by the way? My trash novels are all on there (username "hackloon"), as is a good number of my academic books, but there are some massive gaps which I haven't got round to cataloguing, and can't do until I am back home for a while.
- Robert Blake's Biography of Disraeli (which I've started, and is jolly good);
- Karl Popper's intellectual autobiography, "Unended Quest" (double ditto);
- Hayek, Road to Serfdom, which I bought new, feeling it was some kind of gap in my political knowledge. Anyway, 150 pages in, it is excellent, although sometimes prone to attacking paper tigers.
I've still not got any further with Trollope, which I think may be permanently shelved. There's also a large pile of (popular) history books which I will try to fit around Powelling - top of the list being various tomes on the English Civil War and its aftermath..
Does anyone else use www.librarything.com by the way? My trash novels are all on there (username "hackloon"), as is a good number of my academic books, but there are some massive gaps which I haven't got round to cataloguing, and can't do until I am back home for a while.
Monday 4 August 2008
A call to arms
September approaches. We have effectively aimed for a September 1st start date by, er, no-one actually starting in August.
I've given some thought to the rules. Here we go:
1. Read a volume a month for the next 12 months (catch-ups allowed)
2. Write at least one blog entry a month, ideally when you have finished
3. Don't write plot spoilers until everyone is finished
4. Write other blog entries on a Powellian theme or about your (lack of) progress at any time
I have my bumper three volumes in a book. I am ready for the Autumn.
I've given some thought to the rules. Here we go:
1. Read a volume a month for the next 12 months (catch-ups allowed)
2. Write at least one blog entry a month, ideally when you have finished
3. Don't write plot spoilers until everyone is finished
4. Write other blog entries on a Powellian theme or about your (lack of) progress at any time
I have my bumper three volumes in a book. I am ready for the Autumn.
Monday 7 July 2008
First steps
Ever since the demise of the Proust blog (link alongside) and the recent malaise of Facebook's Books application there has been a distinct lack of a suitable location in Cyberspace in which one can discuss one's reading in an appropriately pretentious and over-indulgent manner. Alas, no longer.
This blog ostensibly exists to chart our progress through Powell's Dance, but proclamations, however ridiculous, on Powell, Proust or anyone/anything else are entirely welcome, indeed are very warmly encouraged.
Mr Garrood, I am certain, will furnish us with further complicated ground rules for the Powellathon, but for my part I am in favour of simplicity. 12 volumes, thus one per month for a year. Each Powellanaut should blog at least once per volume/month.
As for the start date - we can either begin in August or September. Opinions please?
This blog ostensibly exists to chart our progress through Powell's Dance, but proclamations, however ridiculous, on Powell, Proust or anyone/anything else are entirely welcome, indeed are very warmly encouraged.
Mr Garrood, I am certain, will furnish us with further complicated ground rules for the Powellathon, but for my part I am in favour of simplicity. 12 volumes, thus one per month for a year. Each Powellanaut should blog at least once per volume/month.
As for the start date - we can either begin in August or September. Opinions please?
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